The Shirt Tales gang's innermost thoughts are betrayed by their cursed T-shirts.

I've always been bothered by how unrealistic the cartoon Shirt Tales was. I was willing to believe that a group of animals who were in some cases natural enemies all lived together in a park without preying on each other. I could accept that the aforementioned animals all wore T-shirts (but no underpants) and spoke English. I was even willing to suspend my disbelief that these T-shirts were indeed magical and revealed the wearer's private thoughts. What I could not tolerate, however, was that their supposed intimate thoughts were always innocuous, insipid phrases such as Hug Me or Smile. Where was the rage? The fear? The vulgarity? The ennui? The lust? Where was the vast range of thoughts and feelings that humans and presumably anthropomorphic animals actually experience? You know who should have directed Shirt Tales? Werner Herzog.