Schwing


Let’s just establish this right off the bat, to avoid any arguments: It says “Party Time.” Not “Potty Time” (even though that would be great), not “Party Lime” (though that does sound tasty), and not “Larry Slime” (he prefers to be called “Lawrence”). We have that settled? Now, if so much as one person posts a link to a calligraphy site, I’m turning this blog around, so help me God.

It’s “Party Time.” Get stoked.

(This righteousness is featured on thewhaler, and was done by Derek Hutchinson at Sacred Skin in Des Moines, Iowa.)

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Son the Father


David writes in:

I was raised in the traditional Roman Catholic home. “Normalcy” was the standard. Throughout my formative years, I was focused on having a good education. The “real” world remained outside of my realm of existence; a private education saw to that. It was not until I entered college that I came in contact with a larger slice of life. I met people who were not Catholic, not white, and not straight. By the end of my collegiate years, I discovered that my real education was just beginning.

After graduation I discovered that I was not going to give my family the grandchildren that they wanted; stereotypes have a foundation, but are not the norm; leather has a function that has nothing to do with fashion; and piercings piqued my interest. The last twenty years or so have brought many revelations and piercings. I currently have nine. Not a lot by many people’s standards, but I ain’t dead yet! The simple stud from the mall piercings kiosk is gone. There are three ear piercings. They are currently holding tunnels and the possibility of making them larger exists. The erl through the bridge of my nose causes vast discussions. My kids, (students — nope, the parents have no grandchildren from my loins. All of that seed went into mouths and asses) from time to time, ask why I have a hole through my nose. I tell them that I was a parakeet in a former life. My friends laugh or cringe when I stick drink toothpicks through my septum. I have started keeping the labret in at work. The other piercings cannot be seen. My pierced nips work in concert with my last piercing, the PA.

What does the future hold? This summer I think I am going to work on an eyebrow piercing. Dermal piercings are hot, but I think they would interfere too much with my leather gear. Before I’m dead, the plans are a Jacob’s Ladder for the cock; a full body tattoo (including the shaved head) telling the story of the eternal battle between the Berserker and the Ulfendhar (sorry, I have never found a consistent spelling) within me (see? I told you that I learned a lot after college); and whatever shit we create in the future.

Damn, did not realize how epiphanic this writing would be! Whoda thunk it?

Concrete Warfare


Huh. You know, I usually just use a rolled-up newspaper or a wet towel when I want to swat at an angel, but hey, to each his own.

(This excellent piece is, of course, by Marc from Swastika Freakshop in Radolfzell, Germany. Is there a more distinctive tattoo artist working right now than him?)

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Waves and Radiation


Oh dear Lord, there appears to be some sort of white flakey substance falling from the sky in Oregon and landing on basophobic_angel. Is it the result of an airborne toxic event of some description? Let’s not take any chances. If anyone needs me, I’ll be in a motel room, under the highway, eating handfuls of Dylar like it is sweet, delicious candy.

(Piercings by Jason Odd at Modern Epic in Hoodriver, Oregon.)

See more in Madonnas and Medusas (Lip Piercing)

Merry Fishmas!


The catch of the day declined to comment, but when a reporter asked if he would mind singing his response — much to the amusement of the news scrum — he angrily shouted, “I’m a catfish, you jackass, not a bass!” and then proceeded to smash a photographer’s camera. No charges have been filed.

See more in Madonnas and Medusas (Lip Piercing)