From Henry Mueller,
I miss the days when tattoos were only the hallmark of scumbags. Now they’re billboards for sluts and f@ggots.
There’s a “male” in one of my martial arts classes who fits the prototype: tall, thin, pale, nice, self-effacing, problem glasses. His noodly arms are covered shoulder to fingertips with a hideous hurricane of ink.
I find that almost more offensive than the tragedy of a beautiful woman tainting her virgin skin. At least some of them are intense and can fuck like beasts.
“He’s got a beard and menacing looking tattoos. My girl could definitely take him.”
Clown world indeed.
Tattoo rule of thumb:
Don’t (if you’re a girl).
If you’re a man, the size of your muscles should be larger than the expanse which the tattoo occupies. If you have noodle arms, no one will tremble before your steampunk butterfly tattoo that starts and finishes all the way around your concave bicep, leaving you looking like a domestic abuse victim.