Shirt Stains: $layer
Raining cash from a lacerated wallet.
I was right. I called it. It took a little longer than expected, probably due to Covid, but Slayer are back. As expected. No amount of animosity or side projects could deter the alluring scent of cold, hard cash to shrug out a 55-minute set at a festival. It’s not a surprise. Not really if you know anything about the band members and these festivals that will shower old, semi-retired bands with money to headline their stages because there’s fewer and fewer name-grabbing named out there these days. How should you show your support for the band? By wearing some of these choice pieces of merchandise, of course.
Can I get a “whoop whoop” for all the Slayerallos, out there?! The Great Arayalo? Kingmaster? Bang! Pow! Bostaph? This shirt feels like it boils modern Slayer down to their essence: A spooky, demon face that gets sillier the more you look at it. It’s some serious “You wouldn’t like me when I get mad” energy without any actual follow-through. The shirt isn’t even confident enough it itself to show the entire face. It has to be surrounded by…fire? Smoke? Faygo Redpop? Ugh. I can actually hear this shirt wheezing.
Hitting the beach during your court-appointed weekend with the kids? What better way to show you love for the band that wrote Playing With Dolls than wearing a Slayer bathing suit? Strut your stuff in this blood-red-and-gravel ensemble among all the other people sitting in hot dirt or walking along a boardwalk while proudly letting everyone know that you have a cool record collection. What’s that, little Diabolus? No, you can’t get funnel cake! I spent the alimony check your mother gave me on the Soundtrack To The Apocalypse soundtrack. Now, go get your sister In-Musica and let’s go to that bare that does half price Jager shots.
Hey, something for the more fashionable Slayer fans out there: Slayer leggings. Slayeggings? Late to English class? Throw on some Slayer leggings and insist Repentless is a real word. Want to show Traffic Court you’re not some chump that can drive the speed limit? Show off your Slayer leggings while blasting their cover of “Born To Be Wild” from your phone that’s about to be shut off. Someone asking you “Why?” Point to the missing “Y” in Slayer on your Slayer leggings and say “That’s Y!”
Feeling a wee bit chilly on your smoke break? Slayer has you covered. Specifically your hands, and, even more specifically, not your fingies. Do you need fingerless Slayer gloves? No. No, you don’t, but they exist, and they are for sale somewhere between $20 and $30 dollars, depending on where you look. It’s for the discerning Slayer fan that takes way too many smoke breaks in the middle of winter. Or for a Slayer fan that likes to lick their finger tips after eating chocolate. Either one. Trench coat sold separately.
If all that isn’t good enough for you, try your shaky hands at the official Slayer Meat Brand. Sure, it’s meant for scorching the Slayer logo on whatever disappointing cut of meat you bought at Stop and Shop, but when has that ever stopped a Slayer fan from doing something incredibly stupid to their body? I fully believe that a fan, buzzed on Black Tooth Grins and Pall Malls, would endure seared flesh and a guaranteed infection on their ass while spit-screaming “SSSLLLLAAYERRRRblaaargghghgahghghgh” at the family BBQ. I also fully believe they would continue to use the brand on raw meat after it was done. Sanitary practices are not \m/ metal \m/.
