It's hot. The summer sun is upon us. I'm seeing a lot of skin right now and on that skin...a lot of tats.It's fine. Some of your body art is exciting. Even beautiful.
You are a walking Picasso with your sex sleeves and you back murals and your fierce words written across your knuckles. You are expressing yourself and you are God's creature created in his own image (that dude must have tattoos all over his divine body!!!).
But holy fucking shit.
What the hell?
Does EVERYONE need ink did?
No they do not. You- bank teller on Robson Street. Why was Yosemite Sam starring up at me when I handed you my cheque yesterday? Why were you wearing a tank-top at work? I asked myself these questions today and then realised there's a bigger picture here. The more appropriate question is:
Why has douchebaggery infiltrated the very fabric of our society....so much so that douchebags don't even know they're douches?!!
It's like that new Terminator movie with the robot that doesn't know he's a robot. Today's douche is totally oblivious.
It's a mental condition actually. Being dillusional is a sickness. I fear for the future. I'm officially asking you to tell your friend/ brother/ sister/ dad/ aunt/ grandma/ cousin/ bank teller to consult a friend before inking. Getting the wrong tattoo is the first step toward douchedom and you can take it from there.
Like seriously....YOUR BARBWIRE ARM BAND DOESN'T MAKE SENSE.
HAVING REAL BARBWIRE WRAPPED AROUND YOUR ARM WOULD HURT YOU QUITE A BIT.
Oh wait. Is that what you're trying to say? That you are so tough you have an extreme pain threshold and could totally wear barbwire?
That's actually kind of cool. Now I'm a little intimidated.
BUT IT DOESN'T DISMISS THE FACT THAT IT'S BEEN DONE TO DEATH. GET AN ORIGINAL IDEA.
Listen, here's the bottom line: THINK BEFORE YOU INK.
Cordially yours,
Jay
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