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As we’re all very aware of, life for the average Black man can be very stressful. Dangerous, even. Not a day goes by when you don’t have to expend energy thinking about something that could very easily fuck your shit completely up; a list that includes police, hypertension, White people at work, Black people at work, waaaay-too-long omelet lines at brunch, haters, catalytic converters, Paper Zetas with advanced degrees and admittedly understandable grudges, Klay Thompson, drive-by shootings, “fresh out” cousins who want to kick it, regrettable tattoo decisions, inefficient condoms, and even Macbook charger deaths. Which is why, when good things happen, some of us have a tendency to go all Antonio Brown with joy.

We also learn to appreciate and celebrate minor victories. Things that may seem mundane at first glance, but have the ability to put a smile on a day and improve an entire week. And, if you’re a Black man between 12 and 112 years old, one of the most dependable things on this list is new Timberland day, a joyful occasion I had the pleasure of experiencing last weekend.

Now, the benefits of New Tims Day are both obvious and subtle, like a nice ass slightly poking its way through some baggy sweatpants. First, you stand and walk a bit taller than usual because, when you’re wearing Tims, you’re literally standing and walking a bit taller than usual. I’m 6'1 and 3/4 on a good day. On Tim day I’m like 6'7. And, a pair of Butter Tims go with literally every outfit. Besides suits, there’s nothing in my closet that a pair of butters couldn’t be rocked with.

Also, I have a newborn daughter. She is a week old, which means her days are spent doing one of the following things: eating, sleeping, crying, shitting, slobbering, burping/throwing up, peeing, and just sitting with her eyes occasionally open. That’s eight things — four of which involve her expelling some type of liquid. Yet, it is still easier to keep my shirt clean around my daughter than it is to keep a pair of Butters blemish free. New Tim Day is literally the last time you’ll see them without any scuffs or stains. Which is why New Tim Day is so celebrated.

In fact, the only other mundane and randomly awesome day for the average Black man that compares to New Tim Day is Fresh Cut Day. Which, as I’ve said before, has the ability to make you feel like you’ve gone from a solid “6" to a strong “8.5" in less than an hour.

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But, which day is greater? If you had to choose between New Tim Day and Fresh Cut Day, which one do you choose? I’m initially inclined to lean in New Tim Day’s direction. Because, unless you’re Diddy or Gilbert Arenas or something, buying new Tims is a rare experience. Because those shits are expensive. Plus, Tims have a long self life. After you get that first blemish — which you try your damndest not to do — you’re generally good until blemish 65. And that could take years to happen.

But, ultimately, Fresh Cut Day prevails. Mainly because of the psychic benefit. After 30, buying new Tims is a spontaneous experience. You don’t go to the mall specifically to cop some Tims. You go to the mall, see that they’re on sale for $124.99, and think “You know what? I’m gonna make today New Tim Day!” Fresh Cut Day, however, is a plan. You’re looking forward to it all week. It becomes inspirational. Aspirational. On Monday, you’re already thinking about when you’re going to go to the barbershop, and where you’re going to go directly after the barbershop. Because you can’t waste fresh cut today by just going home afterwards. (“Maybe I’ll go walk around the mall or something.”)

And then, maybe, you combine Fresh Cut Day with New Time Day. Which makes you want to go all Antonio Brown again.

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