I'm an elitist jerk and therefore it's my practice to quietly refrain from bonding with the thousands of metal people who've attended the same shows, shopped at the same record stores, and barfed off the same balconies as me. My high school boasted this killer clan of smiley heshers (replete with rusty van), but from my high horse, it appeared they favored pot over metal. Which seemed like a justifiable deal-breaker for some reason. Those cats were probably intimidated by my startling beauty anyway. It's my cross to bear.