Why I’ll be a metalhead until the day I die

I’m going to die in a metal T‑shirt. I’m 98 per cent sure of this. Yes, there’s a chance I may be wearing some situationally-specific outfit when I croak – swim trunks, Santa suit, gimp mask, the usual – but more likely than not, when that charley horse forms in my chest and I fall gasping to the floor, I’ll be wearing a shirt with an unreadable logo on the front and a column of tour dates on the back. My only hope is that the coroner who examines my body will be cool enough to admire my good taste before he cuts the thing off of me. Subject is a Caucasian male in his mid-60s, about 200 pounds, and, hey, look at that, fuck yeah Scumpulse! This realisation hit me while I was planning my honeymoon. When I brought up potential locati...

unsplash-logoLilith Redmoon