Thanks to my baby, I now own a REALLY nice pair of shoes. I’m talking super fancy, the kind of shoes that the Great Gatsby would put on when he had to put the smooth on some dime in the thirties by singing her a song in a rowboat or some shit. At least I assume this is what the Great Gatsby did when he ran a game on a girl, I never finished reading that book. But I digress. Behold:
SLAYER SHOES.
For those of you who may not be familiar with Slayer, allow me to explain. Slayer are a group of four grown men who are united by two universal truths:
1) Satan is radical.
2) Playing your instruments slow is for pussies.
They may also be united by the belief that
Dave Mustaine should just shut up already (because seriously the statute of limitations for respecting him for writing
Four Horseman expired like a million years ago) but it might only be Kerry King who thinks that. Slayer should not ever be confused with Buffy the Vampire Slayer, who is also pretty cool, but who did not ever write a song about
cutting someones face off and wearing it as a mask. Actually I do not know for a fact that she didn’t, but if she did they did not ever show it on TV and therefore it is not germane to this discussion. When listening to Slayer it is traditional to drink the kind of beer that homeless people look at and go “No thanks, I still have some Listerine back at the refrigerator box.” Although it is no longer always observed, it is considered good form to always pronounce the name of the band as “SLAAAAAAAAAYER!” at the top of your lungs
while your friend carves their name into your arm with an exacto knife.
I heard from a friend who is a doctor that this one time, a kid was born with a tattoo of a goat head in a pentagram on his neck because his parents were totally rocking out to Seasons in the Abyss on the stereo when he was conceived.