Tattooed man

My youth was conflicted.

You might ask: Whose was not?

Fair enough. However, my youth lasted 52 years.

tattooAt 19, I came close to suicide. Happy now that circumstance worked against me. Whew!

Part of my conflicted youth was that I got tattooed. You might say: Tattoos are “cool.” Lots of folks have them. Actually, tattoos are a relatively modern fad.

Half a century back, only sailors and bad boys got them.

And me — neither sailor nor bad boy.

By the time I was 26, I had six tattoos.

What brings this topic to mind? The city government in Washington, D.C., a bunch of typical, nanny-state Democrats, wants to meddle in the tattoo trade, which is none of its business.

You might ask: And what happened at age 52?

Entheogens happened to me.

Otherwise, pushing 70, I would still be a conflicted youth, and that would be beyond silly.

Back to tattoos: After my second divorce, I went to the VA hospital in Houston, and had six of the seven removed at government expense.

Ain’t socialism sweet?

I kept one on my forearm, a green snake wrapped around a skull, because it makes me intriguing to the ladies.

Looking like a bad boy can be good.