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Wednesday, June 13, 2012

THINK BEFORE YOU INK! A Public Service Message From Me: If You Think 80s Hair Is Embarassing Now, Wait Until Your Kitty Tattoo Is 25 Years Old

Frankly, I can't always write about politics. First of all, only like half of you people even get what I'm talking about and the other half call me bad names. Plus, Barack Obama isn't polling at the 4% he should be polling at, so obviously America is hell-bent on destroying itself anyway, regardless of what I say.

With that in mind, I've decided to write about fashion today.

I notice a lot of people getting tattoos. By "a lot of people" I pretty much mean everyone under thirty years old. Tattoos used to be a sign of rebellion. A sort of in-your-face-statement that you were living your life to stick it to the man. Now, people with ink are just cluttered up cliches of an aimless generation that thinks it's one giant collective bad-ass.

There was a time, when I was of the barroom brawl ilk, that if a guy with a sleeve tatt came in looking for trouble, I'd gently slide down to the end of the bar and wait for the trouble to begin, knowing I was about to lose another fight. Pretty much nowadays, if you are a male with a tattoo, your skinny jeans and emo tee-shirt tell me everything I need to know about you. Ink doesn't make you tough any more than borrowing money from your retirement account to buy a Harley-Davidson makes you a biker.

Let's talk about girls now. I like females, I married one, so I am qualified to speak about women's issues. If you are under thirty and you have any of the following:
  • a sleeve tatt
  • a chest tatt
  • a tramp stamp (especially if it is a Harley-Davidson logo)
  • a partial sleeve tatt
  • an insect on the back of your neck
  • wild or plant life on one or both legs
please listen to what I am about to say:

The chances are your mom had pretty big hair right around the time you were born. Find her yearbook from high school or college and check it out if you don't believe me. Now, think how funny your mom would look today if she was still sporting the big hair with her mom-jeans and fanny pack as she struts her decrepit stuff through the mall. I know you don't think that's going to be you in twenty-five years, but you're wrong. Your mom, ladies, is your future.

Now think of you sporting the 2030-style mom-jeans as you zoom around town in your jet pack. The only difference between you and your mom is your mom changed her hair-style and uses hair-coloring to keep from looking like my fifth grade teacher, (who's actual real name was Mrs. Leadbeater). You, on the other hand, will be stuck with that rose vine wrapped around the unicorn horn with the setting sun casting its funky yellow light over that digitally reproduced picture of that kid in high school who died from a heroin overdose. Trust me, in 2037, your arm will  embarrass you beyond your ability to comprehend right now.

Here's some visual aids to help you understand that bad hairstyles last a decade, but tattoos are forever.

Hair grows out. Tattoos just turn blue and wrinkly, but luckily they're permanent reminders of all the bad fashion decisions you will make in your teens and twenties.

Tattoos are the big hair of the 20-teens. Think about your future, and the embarrassment your children will suffer 25 years from now when that butterfly on your belly looks like a slug crawling through a salt mine.

Think before you ink, won't you?

1 comment:

MarkStoryJenks said...

Good old Mrs. Leadbeater. We may have been in the same class, Jack. I too had her as my fifth grade teacher. She was the first one on the list of teachers I had, that I can honestly say I hated.
Wonder what ever became of her and her distinct odor?
She was also the first teacher (of many) to falsely accuse me of plagiarism. In her snide way, she'd say "oh sure, YOU wrote THIS." I attribute her and a few lousy teachers I had later, for my complete loss of interest in school.