So you
see the title of this week’s harrumph and you say: “You wait one minute, Mr.
harrumph-man, that’s just not fair to say that there are only two positions on
tattoos: stupid or dumb. What about people that like tattoos; they
don’t think they’re stupid or dumb!
Just what do you have to say about that!?” Well, I’ve only got to say one thing about that: they’re wrong on both counts. Sorry, that’s just the way it is.
You see,
tattoos were, at one time, solely the province of people that were, well,
not exactly the pinnacles of society.
Think back to a time when western men, wearing large pith helmets, and
even larger handlebar mustaches, took to the wilds of uncharted South Sea
Islands, to the deserts of Persia, to the mysterious dark continent of
sub-Saharan Africa, and the exotic plains of India. Well, how exactly did they tell the friendly natives from the
bloodthirsty, human-flesh eating cannibals, before they found themselves in a
pot of boiling water? That’s right,
tattoos. The evildoers always wore
strange markings upon their faces and arms.
Permanent masks of harrumphedness that simultaneously frightened and
intimidated those that they dealt with…before dinner was served… hahaha. After all, Tarzan was a good guy, and he
never sported a tattoo.
And
then, of course, this horrible ritual of self-mutilation came back to the
shores of the mighty British Empire through the good offices of the East India
trading company and the Royal Navy. Who
else but those scalawags of history, the pirates roaming the seven seas, would
actually want to be tattooed? Of
course, in addition to the usual skulls, swords, and “mom” labels, there was
the occasional “P” that appeared on an unwilling arm or two, courtesy of the
local Brigadier or Governor. Sure,
maybe those “P’s” can be classified more as brandings than tattooings, but
let’s not quibble when I’m on a roll, hmmm?
Once again, it’s the bad guys who end up with the permanent marks.
Speaking
of brandings, how about convicted cowards in the Union army receiving an
unwanted “C” on their face, courtesy of the great emancipator during the civil
war? Yep, as you can see, a tat equals
“bad.”
So let’s
fast-forward to today’s modern society.
With the emergence of motorcycle gangs in the ‘60’s (I don’t include
‘50’s motorcycle gangs because we all know that Fonzie would never get a
tattoo) the ink flowed like blood in the streets. Now, I’m not one to disparage any particular group of people…
especially ones that are heavily armed and organized, but I think that even
motorcycle gang members would agree that they’re rather nefarious
characters. I mean, really, that’s the
look they’re going for so there’s no need for them to be offended. And if they are then let me suggest one
thing that’ll make everything right:
please substitute the word “ChiCom” for “motorcycle gang” throughout
this entire paragraph.
Ok, so
let me get to the point of this harrumph so that motorcycle gang members will
realize that I’m actually doing them a service here. Remember, tattoos throughout history have been used by miscreants
to signify strength and power… intimidation, right? Well, what the heck happened?
Why is it that those evil-looking, intimidating tattoos worn by tough,
motorcycle riding, denizens of the dark side, have been cheapened… have been
diluted… have been, yes, even overshadowed by “tramp stamps” and colorful vines
creeping up legs… “sleeves” depicting scenes from the Sistine chapel… “Charlie
Brown”-like zigzags around arms?
I want
to know who that first bimbo was that walked into a tattoo parlor (of course,
on the wrong side of town,) and demanded that the hulking needler behind the
chair put a pretty little unicorn with a rainbow horn right above her ass
crack? And, I also want to know who
that hulking needler was that let himself get talked into starting us down the
path leading to the fall of western civilization?
 |
| Are you kidding me? |
Oh, I’m going
too far here, you say? I think not. With tattoos now the new style, the new
“urban” art form, just how do you propose we tell the good guys from the bad
guys? Besides that, as tattoos become
more accepted as “the norm” in society, these human canvases compete with each
other on the elaborateness of their body art.
More and more skin is being inked… all these tattooed 20-somethings out
there are turning into Queequegs! (Check your Herman Melville for that
reference.) And have you seen some of those idiots out there, usually seen on
“Ripley’s Believe it, or Not!,” that are transmogrifying themselves into lizard
people? Tattooed scales, cosmetic
surgery to give them horns & stuff… I once even saw some loser with a tail!
Smarten
up, people. This can only lead to our
destruction. No, I’m not exaggerating
this point either. Remember the
explorers from earlier in this harrumph?
Remember how they knew friendlies from enemies? Remember Tarzan (good guy,) no tats;
cannibals (bad guys,) lots of tats? So
who do you think other explorers will see as good guys & bad guys in
today’s modern world? You know, “other”
explorers… maybe ones with big, saucer shaped ships… with death ray rifles and
transporter beams? With technology so
far advanced from ours that we would be like the dime novel natives of
old? Technology that we can’t stand up
to (but maybe I’ll finally get a flying car out of?) So who will THEY see as friendlies? Those with natural skin (like Tarzan) or those of you who have
chosen to become human monstrosities like those lizard people. Just sayin’… maybe something to think about
before they sell out of bleach & steel wool down at Walmart… Harrumph…
