Here I am in my new Tat Parlor with some of my newest, latest tats. There’ll be more right next door, three shops in all. I’m wearing my cool face tat, which I’ll have for sale real soon. This is my first shop since 2013, and I’m very proud of it. My tats are all magickal in nature, not tribal or sexual.
I believe in “tit for tat”, my Dad Horace would introduce himself to a young lady back in the ’50s, “may I offer you some tat?”
Little did he know that tattoos would become the standard for Americans, that 90% of all kids born in 2014 will have tattooed faces, hands, torso, feet and genitalia. You’ll be able to pick off the Old Ones by their lack of tattoo.
Tattoos are supposedly tribal. Bullshit. The Tribal part of tattoos is strictly marketing, and it came around 1980, when the Tramp Stamp became the Gramp Stamp and sexy tattoos were on everyone.
It’s all about calling for attention.
No matter what the bullshit story is that someone gives you about why they got a tattoo, it’s all about marketing the body as a sex machine for the purpose of attracting a mate. Gosh, I hate that word “mate” — it gives it away that there’s something ape-descendent about a partner, but you have to have a partner, to make it through the rough life ahead and to get your parents and friends to shut the freak up.
What, is there never a magickal use for tattoos?
Sure there is, but not in this frantic, raw, street-wise funkedelic twerking cultural nightmare there isn’t.
Imagine your disgust at getting a Tramp Stamp back in the 1970s, when it carried the message “screw me now, screw me hard”, and then living into the 21st century when not only does everyone have a lower back tat, they have lower abdominal and labia tats, so the game of who’s the whoriest girl in the room gets even grittier as time goes on.
Nobody’s the whoriest, by the way; that’s all marketing to get a guy’s interest. It just shows that she knows guys well enough to recognize that they go for the whore tonight, but marry the princess tomorrow.
Being too available is a turn-off to most guys. I saw a couple of video street interviews on guys and their reactions to Tramp Stamps, otherwise known as “targets”.
Most of the 20 or so guys interviewed either made the sign of the cross or said something on the order of “uh, oh, trouble”, yet these are the same guys who will go into a topless bottomless bar and stare at the flesh for hours at a time.
It’s not about sex, or being horny or wanting to have raw sex with an untested unprotected partner, although that’s the suicidal bent of today’s kids…
It’s not at all about how available you are, because everyone, married or single, is available under the right seductions and circumstances, such as emotional stress vulnerability, which makes emotional rape so easily possible by sexual predators both male and female.
It isn’t about sex at all. It’s about being just a bit too available, too easy, too much out in front with your needs.
If you’re offering your body up as some sort of prize, with the bell-ringer at the professionally coiffed vagina, above which is a tribal tat pointing to the entrance with the message “THINK BIG”, you have to be clear on this one point:
It can’t be a prize that anyone can win easily on the first try.
Another point; if you’re thinking your body is some sort of prize, there are 7.8 billion more just like it, all for sale or rent at the asking price or best offer.
Nobody wants to die alone.
A life-partner can sometimes help there, but one of them is gonna get stuck for the drinks.
The only real way to deal with old age and death in an elegant style is to form or join some sort of Tribal group that indicates caring, sharing and bearing.
That’d be a brick-and-mortar Healing Ashram, and I’m still waiting for that check for $300,000 that will buy us an Ashram that can be a Beacon in this galaxy.
See You At The Top!!!
gorby