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Perhaps its the never ending drone of the vuvuzuelas, or maybe it's the fact that it is Father's Day today (happy Father's Day, dads!) -- but I am compelled to tell you all about black socks.

I received a pitch a few days ago from a company called, you guessed it,<a href="http://www.blacksocks.com/g3.cms/lang/us/s_page/79080/s_name/homepageus" target="_blank"> blacksocks.com</a>. I was about to delete it when I read this line, "the target <a href="http://www.blacksocks.com/g3.cms/lang/us/s_page/79080/s_name/homepageus" target="_blank">Blacksocks</a> demographic is any man who's looked down to find his toe yawning out of a hole in his sock."

I thought that was charming, and well, I know of a certain SOMEONE who fits that description so I checked out their site. Sure enough they sell socks. Black ones.

I love the simplicity of that business model. There's something to be said for having a laser-like focus.

Anyways, Father's Day = black socks in my mind, apparently.

I did take them up on their offer to send me, or rather, the man with the yawning socks in my household, a pair of socks.

They came the next day.

They were Italian made.

They were black.

He loved them. Because he always needs black socks.

Perfect.