Flying green flame forks down your left temple, while on your starboard side the identity of the best damn band you’ve yet to know throbs and shines and blazes.
In you walk to the party. Or the festival. Or the airplane. Or the doctor’s office. Or the adoption agency.
You get it. With these goggles strapped to your demeanor, you can’t screw up.
Are they as good as Ray Bans? No. They’re better. When did you ever see a pair of Ray Bans with a goddamn oak-cleaving thunderbolt the color of jealousy on the arm? Never. Why? Because in trying to apply the design, they melted their glasses. Again and again and again, they melted them. Why not ours? Why not melting, though a thousand pairs glazed? Maybe because we counterweight that devil-green darter with our own smart logo — the logo of the best, toughest, bravest mother-damn band you or any of your friends can imagine.