Sunday

Don't Ask--Don't Tell--Don't Matter



Celebrities love to tell the general public their sexual preferences, (doggy style is my favorite...FYI) and I suppose that a superhero is as "celebrity" as it gets...sort of.
Well, some of us have always suspected that Batman and Robin were more than just SuperFriends--they were downright creepy sometimes...usually... always.

Bruce Wayne was a super rich, handsome, single guy, who spent all of his time with "The Boy Wonder"--his pointless companion who lacked Super powers, but looked damn cute in his little panties. If not for Batman's gadgets...oh, hell...nevermind.

Do you remember where you were when you first heard that Lance Bass was gay? Remember?-- you were all like "Duh! I have known that since No Strings Attached was released." People have always wanted to know how other people get their swerve on...everyone wants to know who is hetero, homo or the mysterious omnisexual Bi. For celebrities, these revelations can make front page news. Sometimes, this can be shocking. Like that guy k.d. lang--when he announced that he was a fruit, I was like "Really? No way!"





Extra deduction for the wannabe shock factor that falls flat.





What this tattoo says about the wearer:

"Holy Improbable Buttocks, Batman!"







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Thursday

Double Gobble



I met Grady in a little town called Vernon, Florida. Grady was missing his left arm, clear up to his elbow...just like Amos Moses. The weird thing was, most of the people I met there were missing a foot, or a hand, or something. I figured they just lived too close to some power lines, or some Gator had been making meals out of them for years, but Grady told me that he had done this to himself for an insurance scam. That is fucking dedication. You can fake a limp, but amputation is forever.


Grady was an avid Wild Turkey hunter....I like whiskey as much as any functional alcoholic, but he meant the actual animal. I told him that if he wanted turkey, I could run over to Subway, and get him a 12 inch sub (on his bread of choice, with chips, and a soda) for like 6 bucks. But he was more into the "mental contest" that is hunting. A turkey's brain is about the size of a walnut. Enjoy the challenge.










Extra deduction because that turkey looks nothing like the outline of my hand.









What this tattoo says about the wearer:

Happy Fuckin' Thanksgiving.








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Monday

Jesus Chrysler



About 10 years ago Jason started dating a Latina gal named Maribel. She had the craziest, thinnest eyebrows I have ever seen. They looked like this: ~ ~


Jason suddenly discovered Hot Rods, and Jesus, and tried hard to embrace both. Sadly, he did not really "get" either of them, evidenced by his "Jesus, the Love Bug" tattoo.


We called Jason "Herbie" for a long time after he got his tattoo, which he hated. Then someone pointed out that the front end of it kind of looked like a smiling whale, so Jason is called "Willy" now. He hates that, too. I have always appreciated the irony of Jesus having a vanity plate.
It just seems so un-Jesusy.







Extra deduction for putting Jesus' name on a car that Satan would drive.
Jesus would probably drive something much more fuel efficient.







What this tattoo says about the wearer:

I love Jesus.
well... I mean, I'm not religious about it or anything...





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Friday

Inappropriate is My Middle Name



When Blake first got this tattoo, we all thought it was supposed to be Tina Yothers. Maybe it is his Grandma? Maybe it is Tina Yothers' Grandma? I have never been sure. Blake is a wiseassy never-got-over-College type, who still throws lots of themed parties. He has been on a "Island-Calypso" kick lately. I went to one, for about 15 minutes, but left when I realized that his asshole buddies were organizing a Limbo contest. I don't like his asshole buddies, and besides, I know that I can't go that low.

Blake's tattoo is special, because I think it might be the first, and only case of a tattoo undergoing transgender surgery. I do give him credit in the realism department, because most tattoos of women in bikinis have large, gravity defying breasts, and stay away from the "old lady shoulder and underarms" look. Not Blake's... I guess he figured my future is now.






Extra deduction for reminding me of the Borat Mankini.








What this tattoo says about the wearer:

When I say I beat off to your mom, I am not joking.








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Monday

Jesus Miser



We were all sitting at the bar, telling lies, when Tommy came in, bragging about his new Jesus tattoo. After he showed it to us, we split into 2 camps--one thought it looked like Neptune or Poseidon, whichever you prefer...the other thought it looked like the dick from Nickelback.

After a few minutes, Neptune and Nickelback were joined by Hippie stickers of the sun, and Heat Miser. I also appreciate that Jesus has gotten rid of any pesky gray hair, by doing a lovely blue rinse. The one thing we DID agree on was that his prominent cheek pouches showed that this was an industrious Jesus, who was collecting seeds and nuts for the coming winter.






Extra deduction for the blue hair and beard. We all know that Jesus was a ginger ninja.





What this tattoo says about the wearer:

...whatever I touch
turns to God in my clutch-
I'm too much!








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Friday

Less Michael Moore



I met Josh in a bar in Lock Haven, Pennsyltucky. I was about a mile past drunk. He seemed to on the wrestling team at LHU. Or at least his jacket was.


"Hey...Man..HEY!!, Lemme see your tattoo."
"OK"

"That might be the best tattoo of a 'Homeless guy' I have ever seen. Actually, it might be the ONLY tattoo of a Bum I have ever seen. What made you"--
(interrupting) "It is Michael Moore, not a bum."

"Michael Moore? (synapses firing) michael moore?....OH!! You mean that homeless bum who makes movies. Gotcha."
"Dude, he is not a bum, he makes huge money. Quit being a fag."

"A fag? You roll around with dudes, wearing leotards, and I am the fag?"
"Yeah. You are the fag, Fag."

"Whoa--whoa...I just wanted to see your tattoo. Besides, I don't have a cute little leotard to put on."
(getting all puffed up) "You are lucky that you don't. I would destroy you."


"Yes...yes. No question. But, when we get back to your place--cover Michael up... it is going to be difficult for me to maintain a boner, with such an ugly face looking at me."


After he beat me up, we became BFFs, just like in the movies! I was able to let him know that his tattoo was great work...I just think it is dumb. And he was able to communicate that he disagrees with my opinion, he thinks that I am an asshole, and his kung fu is better than mine.




Extra deduction because if you needed to feel connected to Michael Moore, you could have just followed him on one of the social media sites. If you need to befriend a guy who needs a shave, and looks like he might smell bad-- here---Twitter, or myspace.






What this tattoo says about the wearer:

Weird things.







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Tuesday

Cause Band-Aid's Stuck on Me



Angie was my ex-girlfriend's best friend. They had a ritual--every Friday they would go out, drink rummy fu-fu drinks--spin the little umbrellas, and talk shit about men. Then they would come back to our place, eat, puke, and pass out. There were a few nights, that it looked like we might have a ménage à trois but that never panned out. I do still have the occasional ménage à un thinking about it, though.

When I first saw Angie's tattoo, she called it a "Tiger-Lily"--I called it a bunch of Band-Aids, (ouchless) with some high school mascot on them. That is when we stopped being civil. She started to tell people what an asshole I am, and I proved her right by humming the "I am Stuck on Band-Aid" jingle whenever she was around, which may be Manilow's most haunting work.






Extra deduction for not believing me that Barry wrote that shit.
Don't fucking ask...






What this tattoo says about the wearer:

They hold on tight no matter what to fingers, toes and knees.





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Saturday

Jesus Pieces 2




When Marty showed me this tattoo, I thought it was a Joan Jett and the Blackhearts tattoo. I was puzzled about the jazz hands and pigeon toes, but I figured maybe it is from a song I am not familiar with...surely she had more than just the two that I know.

(pointing at his tattoo) "Big fan, huh?--I was never that into them, but I would've had sexual intercourse with her "
"Her?! This is for Him!"

"Him?! Who--Jeffrey Dahmer?"
"No! Not him...HIM"

"Ohhhhh, that Finnish band?"
"No, asshole--Jesus."

"Jesus?! When did they chop him up?"
"They didn't... It is the 5 Wounds of Christ"

"But it would be 10 wounds, now that they cut his his hands and feet off, and his heart out."
"Whatever-- Who did you mean, that you would have sex with?"

"What? Oh, no one--nevermind."
"No. WHO?"

"Your mom."
"You're sick."




Extra deduction for trying to make ME out to be the weirdo-- you are the one with body parts tattooed on you, Dexter.








What this tattoo says about the wearer:

CSI:Jerusalem. Wednesday nights, at 9:00, only on CBS.









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Thursday

RIP G.I. Joe




When I was a little kid, I lived down the street from Aaron. Aaron was sort of my friend, until we were 6, and he "shaved" the hair, beard, and most of the lower jaw off of my G.I. Joe, which REALLY pissed me off. We fought...he drifted his asshole-y, beard-peeling way...and I was happy to see him go. All through grade school, we waged open battles against one another, such as the "Aaron Poops His Pants" campaign of 2nd grade, or the "Aaron has Cooties" movement...which led to the "Aaron is a fucking cocksucker" period, from 1978-Present.


When I saw his tattoo, it took me back to that fateful day in my backyard. His tattoo looks almost exactly like my defaced G.I. Joe...yeah Aaron-motherfucker- don't let me see you walking around. Some of my grudges seem petty--even to me--but not this one.




Extra deduction for starting this war.







What this tattoo says about the wearer:

I always wondered if he remembered that day-
Now I know--and knowing is half the battle.







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Tuesday

Don't Play with Fire


Jason played guitar in the worst band I was ever in- Gut Feast...we played at parties, bar mitzvahs, and one very odd wedding. Crappy late '80s metal. We sucked. Like all teenage bands of the day, we were trying as hard as we could to sound like Slayer, without sounding like Slayer. This tattoo is supposed to show that Jay is a bad-ass, and that you had better not fuck with him--or else...

Or else he will unfurl upon you like the black-light poster that inspired this tattoo. And you know that a poster doesn't have to be very big to cause problems. You had better think twice...or ask a friend to help. Or just pay the extra 10 bucks for the framed one. But don't fuck with Jason. Or...








Extra deduction for all those guitar solos. Annoying arpeggio asshole.







What this tattoo says about the wearer:

I am going to live with my parents until I am 30.









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Sunday

Maybe Its Maybelline



When you first pull off the main road, and onto Weldon's property, the first thing you notice is a big sign that lets you know that "If you can read this--you are in range", which is perforated with bullet holes. Weldon owns about 90 acres, in an undisclosed location in Central Texas. It used to be his Daddy's cattle ranch, but Weldon has converted it into a plantation that would have made Bob Marley proud, with a gun collection that would make Iraq nervous. The last time I went out there, he shot a tree not 10 inches from my head. For fun.

Did I freak the fuck out? Yep.
Did I say a word about it? Nope.

Weldon is what is commonly to referred in these parts as a crazy son of a bitch. He was voted Most Likely to Secede by his High School class. Although he has never served in any military organization, he is still fighting several wars, and I like for him to think of me as an ally. I told him once that his tattoo looked like lipstick, and I am lucky to still have 2 nipples, 10 fingers, and no extra holes in my body.






Extra deduction for the goofy font.







What this tattoo says about the wearer:

Watch for me on CourtTV...

















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Saturday

Articles?





What Sort Of Man Reads Playboy?--The man of discerning taste. He's his own man...a man of means who knows how to stand out in the crowd. He is the guy at the party who is mixing cocktails that are just right, ready to have a discussion about the hip iconoclasts of the day...like Orson Welles, Sammy Davis Jr., and Steve Allen. He likes to put some mood music on the Hi-Fi, and unwind. He is always a high-roller, no matter the stakes.

This is Todd...I mean "T-Money". He is reppin' South Central Council Bluffs, Iowa (Central Plains Love, Bee-yotch!!) Todd--er-- T-Money is one of only 482 Black people in the state of Iowa. He has dealt with his share of racial profiling, and knows that pimpin' ain't easy. He spends most of his time chasing White girls, working at the Sup'r-Sav'r grocery stizz-ore, and trying to make sure they don't catch him ridin' dirty.




Extra deduction for the dog leash bling-bling.





What this tattoo says about the wearer:

Bitch--Please!












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