Manolo says, perhaps our long international nightmare is finally over.

Shares of Crocs Inc plummeted over 40 percent on Tuesday, a day after the maker of brightly colored plastic shoes slashed its sales and earnings projections for the first quarter and year, in what one analyst dubbed a “stunning fall.”


“Current macrotrends in the environment” have led to weaker-than-expected sales, according to Crocs Chief Executive Ron Snyder, speaking to analysts during a conference call on Tuesday. Colder weather and the closure of the company’s Canadian factory were also expected to crimp profit.

Factories producing Satan’s feetwear are closing? Sales of ugly plastic clogs are plummeting? Super Villain CEOs are whining at the press?

Can ticker-tape parades and joyous public pronouncements of thanksgiving be far behind?


Sigerson Morrison Gladiator Sandals for the Monday

Sigerson Morrison Gladiator Sandals    Manolo Likes!  Click!Sigerson Morrison Gladiator Sandals   Manolo Likes!  Click!

Manolo says, outside it is the glorious spring Monday! The birds are chirping, the flowers are blooming and, most importantly of all, the sun is shining.

But, sadly, you are locked inside your office, chained to your desk deep in the twilight belly of the corporate galley, pulling relentlessly on your oar.

“Battle Speed!” shouts the Boss Man from the helm.

In response your district manager pounds out the new beat on the top of his desk, quickening the pace at which you must row. The next cubicle over, your immediate supervisor, Ms. Grog, begins lashing Betsy, the new girl.

“Faster, scum! Quarterly projections are down,” She yells.

At that moment the intercom crackles to life.

“Oh, noes!” you think to yourself, between breaths, “here it comes.”

“Ramming Speed!”

And now it is double-quick time, with the pounding on the desk, and the lashings of the coworkers. But it works, and the ungainly corporate ship lurches forward!

You’re pulling harder than ever now–rowing, rowing, rowing–your entire physical being engaged with the work at hand, but your mind drifts away, to Rome and that semester abroad, when Aldo, your Italian “boyfriend”, insisted on circling the Colosseum three times on his Vespa, with you hanging on the back, laughing and full of life!

“Gladiator sandals,” you think to yourself, the sound of Betsy’s whimpering at the edge of your consciousness, “I need gladiator sandals.”