I’ve seen some terrible ideas for tattoos in my time. Hell, I’ve come up with some. But the public does it better. Homer Simpson bending over so the tat owner’s navel is his asshole. The Warner Bros. Tasmanian Devil holding a beer, with the caption, this bud’s for me (alternately with a joint). And I really don’t get the goth girls who get open-mouthed devil faces down there. Thanks, no. Here’s some more that really exist. You’re welcome.
![Terrible ideas for tattoos: I love him till death due [sic] us part. He has a matching one.](https://i0.wp.com/davezilla.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/06/til-death-due-us-part-e1609810840359.jpeg?ssl=1)
I bought this domain. Yep. February 22, 1998. That means next year, my blog will be a quarter century old. One of the oldest on the planet. Crazy town.
Thank you for sticking with me. I am going to be posting a lot more this year. But original stuff. Not the memes. Those can stay on Facebook where they belong!
Remember this shit? I could never get a bubble bigger than 2” and it smelled like a Victorian turpentine factory. The bubbles were generally forest green with the faintest whisper of yellow.
“Here, kids! It’s like lung cancer in a tube. Knock yourself out.”
But don’t take my word for it. This shit was deadly. There’s even a Wikipedia page about it. It was made from polyvinyl acetate dissolved in acetone. You know, for kids!
Longtime readers will know that I have spent the majority of my life in Royal Oak, Michigan — a strange little town with a penchant for weirdness. We could just as easily deserve our own version of Austin’s tagline. “
Keep Royal Oak weird.”
Last night, while walking home with my honey, we noticed another oddity. Only in Royal Oak can you purchase a gallon of Bulleit Rye, Falafel, an Bitcoin, all in the same … gas station.
Just picture being a Cro Magnon. You’ve just gotten a nice cave in the ‘burbs for the fam. Worked hard on the garden damn, those 15 lb. Rafflesia flowers are looking fine.
Then you hear it. Honking. Not the wimpy honk of a long-dead Velociraptor. Nope. There used to be a giant goose named Garganornis. It was so tall, it stood up to Chris Helmsworth’s nipples.
Picture a flock of giant geese shitting on your lawn and not just hissing at you. These fuckers would just eat your face and change your cable channels.
He’s such an introvert. That’s why he’s always alone.
He’s a very private person. Please respect that.
What bugs you about lockdown?
I make things. People buy them.
USD $22.95
USD $22.95
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