Tag Archives: redneck

The Fine Art of the Shitty Tattoo

alexbwMany would argue that there is really no such thing as a “shitty tattoo.” It can be poorly done, a divisive image, or in a bad location, but any work of art (no matter how creative) on the body is arguably “un-shitty.” I disagree entirely–surprise! And this is coming from someone with only two tattoos: a pin-up girl and the RNA symbol from Heroes. That’s right! But just for the sake of argument, allow me to attempt to prove my stated hypothesis.

Exhibit A: What the fuck?

Is it a Unicorn?! Oh, right...who cares?

Is it a Unicorn?! Oh, right...who cares?

Unless your tattoo is an obscure reference to a specific thing or event in your own life, the general purpose of the art is for people to know what they’re looking at. You might be able to get away with an extremely decorative sleeve of tattoos–such a feat that one might actually take the time to study your entire arm canvas. However, once you decide, “I’m going to get a tattoo with no discernible border. Something that looks like a flamboyant rash, perhaps?”…you should really never be allowed to decide anything ever again.

Exhibit B: Illiteracy. 

 

Yeah! Bring that Systsem to the Ground!!

Yeah! Bring that Systsem to the Ground!!

 

There is nothing fundamentally wrong with the illiterate and mentally unstable decorating their bodies with images and messages, but (barring an embarrassing removal) they must know that they will be stuck with this brand for the rest of their lives.

If youre going to put your ignorance on display, do it like a 13 year old white girl.

If you're going to put your ignorance on display, do it like a 13 year old white girl.

When we see these literary abominations in photographs, we can’t help but laugh–laugh for the undoubtedly retarded tattoo artist who slaved over this canvas of skin only to have it become the bane of his existence; but most importantly, laugh at the jackass who shows off his shit online in hopes that the Internet community will somehow be anything less than relentless.

All his friends already know how Awsome he is. He just wants to let everyone else know, too.

All his friends already know how Awsome he is. He just wants to let everyone else know, too.

Exhibit C: The Douche Chill

My soda isnt warm...but its about room temperature. If only there were something that could---BOOM!

My soda isn't warm...but it's about room temperature. If only there were something that could---"BOOM!"

It’s a fucking shame that I didn’t take this picture myself. I could have put it in Dress Down Day. The 1990′s was a troubling decade. Individuals had to find new and interesting ways to express themselves. All your grunge friends start wearing flannel and torn denim, your fat friend starts wearing wolf-shirts and wants to be called “Wolf,” the pretty blond chick shaves her head, and last–but not least–you go batshit insane and scream, “WhatifIgetICEtattooedallovermyselfwouldyouguyscallmeMrCoolIce?!GREAT!” as you scamper with arms flailing into a back-alley tattoo shop.

Exhibit D: Seemed like a good idea at the time…

At least his face conveys the message: Im badass and I made a huge fucking mistake.

At least his face conveys the message: "I'm badass and I made a huge fucking mistake."

There’s a certain understanding that goes with getting your first (and maybe last) tattoo. It’s the acceptance that for the rest of your life, this will be who you are. There’s nothing wrong with a band tattoo, sports tattoo, or pride tattoo as long as you fully understand that you may have to feign interest in whatever you choose to claim undying adoration towards for the rest of your natural life. In some cases, though, putting a quick and easy end to your life may be a viable solution.

You know what makes up for a mistake? An even larger one.

You know what makes up for a mistake? An even larger one.

Exhibit E: “You’re scaring people.”

Who needs facial reconstruction surgery? Just get a face tattooed on the back of your dumbfuck skull.

Who needs facial reconstruction surgery? Just get a face tattooed on the back of your dumbfuck skull.

Although there are many examples on the type of tattoos that make people feel needlessly uncomfortable, I found it necessary to focus on one in particular. People who get tattoos on the backs of their heads shouldn’t be allowed to leave their homes. One of the advantages to having scary gang members and white supremacists sport symbolic tattoos is that you know who they are and you stay away. When a redneck walks into the restaurant in which you happen to be dining, you shouldn’t have to worry…the problem comes when you’re faced to discern which face is real and which is a tattoo.

Exhibit F: The Portrait

When he dies, he can be stuffed and hung above the fireplace.

When he dies, he can be stuffed and hung above the fireplace.

Very few tattoo artists can pull off the portrait; and you don’t know any of them. What starts out as an innocent photo of your wife, girlfriend, or loved one can easily be twisted and deformed to the point that it resembles a cacophony of demonic gremlins joyously sodomizing Barbara Streisand. I’m not saying that getting a photo-realistic portrait is a bad decision, but…if you haven’t done it–don’t.

Exhibit G: The Why?

In prison, the Crane gang has been known to start stabbing riots, then retreating to their cells for a wine and cheese brunch.

In prison, the Crane gang has been known to start stabbing riots, then retreating to their cells for a wine and cheese brunch.

I’m all for weird and intriguing tattoos. It’s noble to have a good sense of humor about yourself and your body, and getting a funny tattoo is an excellent way of showing it. Originality and creativity are your friends, but some tattoo decisions simply cause people to ask: “WHY?” What would persuade someone to make some of these absurd decisions? Drunkenness? A dare? Or perhaps just a lackluster understanding of what is quirky/fun and compared to a tattoo of a fucking chair.

To be fair, this was a necessary cover-up for that embarassing VHS tat.

To be fair, this was a necessary cover-up for that embarrassing VHS tat.

A tattoo conveys a message to those who see it. It says  something about who you are; like a tribal tattoo says you’re probably an asshole. Tattoos like this cement the idea that either you have an infinitesimal personality, or you were repeatedly beaten about the cranium with a sock full of batteries and bad ideas.

Yeah! Now Ill be waist-deep in pussy!

"Yeah! Now I'll be waist-deep in pussy!"

Exhibit H: Is your tattoo artist 7?

This dude must be a graphic designer.

This dude must be a graphic designer.

When acquiring a tattoo, sometimes it is often customary to have the artist either draw it first onto a transfer-sheet, or simply draw it first on your body so that you know exactly what it is going to look like. Once we accept this as fact, it is only fair to deride those who fail to have the common sense to tell the tattoo artist to fuck off back to the Fair grounds where they can practice their obvious lack of talent painting kids’ faces.

Unfortunately, this sea-beauty is confined to a prison of oddly placed body hair.

Unfortunately, this sea-beauty is confined to a prison of oddly placed body hair.

Exhibit I: The Fattoo

If the most evil characters in the Star Wars universe dont scare you off, wait til he turns around!

If the most evil characters in the Star Wars universe don't scare you off, wait 'til he turns around!

When you are obscenely obese, you have a lot more body canvas to work with. Some have the foresight to use this space wisely with either a large image or nothing at all. The downfall that is seemingly unavoidable is when these physically overwhelming individuals decide to fill themselves with either several non-connected images or something that loses its intended form beneath rolls of relentlessly bulging flesh. 

If youre surprised by this, you probably dont live in America.

If you're surprised by this, you probably don't live in America.

Exhibit J: The Nazis and the Unicorns

Nothing says white power like a German Socialist Unicorn!

Nothing says 'white power' like a German Socialist Unicorn!

There are endless symbolic images that, when tattooed, identify you as being affiliated with a certain group. Skulls, 8-Balls and Spider webs (for example) can often be indicative of an allegiance with White Supremacists. It is also a somewhat unassuming way to declare your hatred and bigotry without sporting a giant swastika on your face. Unicorns, on the other hand, have the tendency to declare I’M A PUSSY no matter what social situation you find yourself in. There’s really no way to make a unicorn appear as a symbol of power. So if you’re a Nazi, combining your hate with the faggy spectacle of a magical horse is probably a bad–wait, scratch that…Every White Supremacist should be legally obligated to get this tattoo.

Alex G/

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An Open Letter to Country Star John Rich

AlexDear Mr. Rich,

It may seem odd, and almost awkward, to single you out amongst the perversely immense cacophony of Country Western Superstars and the fine and objectively upstanding, God-Loving American Citizens who enjoy the genre. Let me assure you that my intentions are specific and wholly warranted.

While your career has had its ups and downs (significantly more downs), it is worth mentioning that the true measure of your success and notoriety can only accurately correspond to the staggering rate at which viewers of FOX News and CMT are having babies, buying guns, thumbing through scripture, or power-houring a six pack of Milwaukee’s Best.

Not only have you brought this glorious country of ours such notable songs as Hicktown, Pickin’ Wildflowers, When I Think About Cheatin’, and Redneck Woman, but have also been able to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that the music industry (as powerful, significant, and influential as it is) has not disregarded the vastly important demographic of the comically retarded.

In your recent appearance with FOX News’ Glenn Beck, you exhibited a clear-cut “fuck you” to those nay-sayers who didn’t think you could ever bounce back from being the lackluster sidekick to Big Kenny. When Big & Rich reforms this year (or did you get back together already? I don’t know care) you can celebrate the valuable lesson you learned about Off-Road-Head that unfortunately resulted in Big Ken’s neck injury.

Luckily for me, I was able to catch the last few minutes of Glenn Beck (through which he was conspicuously dry-eyed) while you sang The Good Lord and the Man, a song that not only delivered a swift punch in the cunt to all those faggy America-Bashers out there, but also served to violently alienate damn near everyone with enough severe cranial damage to share your demented opinions.

I can only compare you to Larry the Cable Guy, with respect to his “down-to-earth” humor for the developmentally disabled, in that you’re not necessarily hurting America, but you are accomplishing the valiant task of giving functionally retarded Americans a bad name.

Any individual with enough mental stamina to change the channel was in better condition than I was this afternoon as I suffered through unquestionably divisive verses like:

“…and I see people on my T.V. taking shots at Uncle Sam. I hope they always remember why they can, cause we’d all be speakin’ German, livin’ under the flag of Japan if it wasn’t for the good Lord and the man.”

As the host of CMT‘s Gone Country and one of the judges for NBC‘s Nashville Star, you succeeded in taking the business model of American Idol, making damn certain that everything “watchable” was stripped away, and that you were specifically targeting the willfully ignorant.

With that statement, I must add that there is absolutely nothing wrong with Country Music. Southern Musicians may arguably be some of the best and most talented individuals to ever grace the industry. What you spread, however, does not blur the line between Poetry and Hate Speech, it takes a steamy, grit-laced shit on it.

Your over-the-top sensual love songs about the good ol’ red, white and blue would perhaps be mildly offensive to the brain case of the progressive-minded non-xenophobe if they weren’t so creepily compelling. I never looked at John McCain the same way after Raisin’ McCain…mostly because I kept picturing him as a sun-dried grape.

While I will not viciously spread unfounded rumors that you are somehow racist or homophobic (I mean, who would believe something like that?), I will take a leap of faith and suggest that if our sexy country were to champion an Anti-Intellectual Pride day, you would be among the first to toss in your ridiculous stetson and write a song titled: Smart People Think They’re Better Than Me, But They’re All Gay.

In closing, I must make it crystal clear that this is not a personal attack, nor is it an attempt to persuade you to stop doing what you’re doing. In fact, you could even consider this as a plea to do what you’re doing harder (not in a gay way though, I know that makes you sick).

Keep undressing Lady Liberty with your mind as you cling steadfast to a concept of America that exists only in the minds of yourself and the Michigan Militia. You give High School dropouts something to believe in, and that’s fucking important!

Keep playing the ignorant Cowboy on the T.V. for the sake of masochistic progressives everywhere. After all, if you quit, what will Glenn Beck masturbate to?

 

From the Bottom of My Heart,

-AlexG.

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