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Employers Should Probably Start Making Peace With Tattoos

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While it’s still absolutely a company’s prerogative whether it chooses to hire visibly modified folk, it’s becoming an increasingly poor business decision for a variety of reasons. Sure, there was a time when the conventional wisdom was that tattoos were strictly the domain of the lowest rungs on the ladder, but that’s a borderline indefensible position nowadays. Hell, when 24-percent of people in the coveted 18-50 age-range have at least one tattoo, it seems almost senseless. And apparently, human resource departments are catching on!

At some point, a blanket no-tattoos policy will almost certainly compromise your ability to hire the talent you need, and it would appear to move against a general trend to be more tolerant of tattoos. Educational level and social status no longer predict who has body art. The young financial officer who handles your business banking may have a Celtic symbol on her ankle. The lawyer who works your case may simply take out his nose ring when he goes to court.

As a result, many major employers have revised their tattoo policies, making them more lenient. Disney is good example. After polling the people who visit their theme parks and finding little objection, the company lifted tattoo restrictions. Faced with talent shortages, many hospitals have moved from a no tattoo policy, to a “no highly visible tattoos” stance.

This may seem like old news — indeed, it certainly is — but it’s undeniably positive and surprisingly progressive. Of course, the trend is not as far-reaching as some would hope:

That said, the professionals who responded to the SHRM survey made it clear that body art still leads to stereotyping. Furthermore, in a 2007 survey 85% of respondents said that tattoos and body piercings impede a person’s chances of finding a job.

Now, as someone who often laments the fact that he was born in an era in which wearing a three-piece suit at all times isn’t quite necessary, I personally love the cognitive dissonance of seeing an impeccably dressed person with hints of tattoos peeking out from behind cuffs and collars. There should be some sort of decorum when it comes to the way one dresses for work, but I don’t think a dress code and body modification are irreconcilable, either. My favorite take on this comes from Keith Alexander, who was, among many other things, a heavily tattooed ball-breaker that flourished in marketing and advertising:

[…] the older generations [are] dying off and the younger generations [are] coming up, and the majority of them have [tattoo] work. […] So, look, we’ve reached critical mass as far as public awareness goes: Everybody knows there’s people like us and people crazier than us doing these things. So, they’re aware of it, it’s just a matter of your resumé and experience being able to back it up. I don’t think that, given the choice between a person who is somewhat qualified and not pierced or tattooed and a person who is extremely qualified and pierced and tattooed, I think that the business environment is such these days that you have to make the right choice to go for the person that’s best for the job, visible work or not.

[…]

So it’s really … I hear so many people just whining about, “My quote-unquote mods keep me out of jobs,” and I really don’t buy into that. If you have a full facial tattoo and you got it when you were 16 and it’s shitty art, then maybe that is working against you, but I don’t have much sympathy for you. So again, I’ve never really had a problem, it’s always just a matter of setting the goal and going for it. I’ve counseled and helped so many of my friends with going through transitions like that because I’ve done it so many times, and the advice that I give them is to just pick what you want to do and go for it.

[…]

The best thing to do is just live your life and lead by example. You know, that’s what I like to do; I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been in big presentations, I’ve just given a great presentation, everyone’s just kind of blown away, and then I roll up my sleeves and people are like, “Holy shit, that’s a lot of work,” and you know, I’m totally aware of when I do it, how I do it, why I’m doing it, and so on. So you just have to set an example by the way you live your life.

Tattoo News [CollegeRecruiter.com]
RTFM: Keith Alexander [BMEzine.com]

Full Coverage: Links From All Over (Sept. 11, 2008)

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[Military.com] If the History Channel has taught me anything (aside from providing a God’s-eye view of everything that ever happened to Hitler), it’s that the military has a proud tradition of commemorative tattoos, with each branch rather attached to its own unique iconography. In March 2007, however, the Marine Corps cracked down on and banned full-sleeve tattoos for Marine recruiters or security guards, though those with work completed before a certain date were grandfathered in. Now, a new administrative decision has extended the ban even to those who were granted an allowance:

[The decision defines] sleeve tattoos as a large tattoo or collection of smaller tattoos that covers or almost covers a person’s arm or leg. This also includes half and quarter sleeves if they are visible in green-on-green, physical training gear. […]

“Sleeve tattoos degrade our professional Marine image,” said Staff Sgt. Aaron McMullen, canvassing recruiter, Recruiting Substation Clarksville, Ind., Recruiting Station Louisville, Ky. “We keep our uniforms pressed, our brass shiny and our shoes polished. Sleeve tattoos don’t fit with that image.”

Marines with tattoo sleeves who are already on recruiting will be allowed to finish their tours however, recruiters wishing to submit a career-recruiter package “may not be favorably viewed” but will be considered on a case-by-case basis. The decision will ultimately rest with the deputy commandant for manpower and reserve affairs.

Photo credit: ESPN.com

It’s an unfortunate decision; one would hope their contributions would be highly valued enough that a tattoo sleeve wouldn’t have to inhibit Marines’ official interaction with the public. On the other hand, decorum seems vital to the USMC, and if they won’t truck with a moo-stache, maybe this shouldn’t be a complete surprise.

[ESPN.com] ESPN the Magazine recently put out a call for readers to send in photos of their College football-related tattoos, and at least 18 did! Nothing particularly striking, though I have to say, sports tattoos is one area in which BME is definitely lacking. I’m putting you on notice, sports fans! Start sending in photos of your tattoos. We know you’re out there.

[ThePittsburghChannel.com] Lindsay Lohan totes got tattoos to match Samantha Ronson’s! In more exciting news, the driver on the bus I take had his hair parted to the opposite side than usual this morning.

[Technoccult.com] OK, this is just plain awesome. I don’t know the context (or if the title, “Religious Body Piercing in India,” is in any way accurate), but this is the video to which they link — never mind the safety pins:

BREAKING NEWS: Angry Guys Are Angry

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OK, maybe Internet vitriol doesn’t quite count as breaking news, but when it’s as enjoyable as this, it deserves its own headline. Local hothead and 9/11 Truther Anthony Bosco really, really doesn’t like your stupid tattoos. Hates them! And by golly, he wants you to know it.

Tattoos are nothing but a commitment towards future embarrassment and ridicule. You may think that who you are now will never change. And if you are a wilfully ignorant or narrow-minded person who will always refuse to change their perspective on the world, irrespective of how much things around you change, you may be right. At least in terms of your mental retardation, anyway. But, what you are most certainly incapable of retarding, is the inevitable physical changes to your body as you begin to age.

And yes, I have heard all the argument before…”It’s okay if I get saggy and my tat ends up looking stupid, because I’ll be old and covered up anyway, so no-one will see it”. Really? Isn’t people seeing it the whole point of getting ink injected permanently beneath five layers of dermis? Because this excuse sounds an awful lot like an admission of the temporary relevance of whatever statement, symbol, character, etc. you have had tattooed to your body.

He says what we’re all thinking! But wait, there’s less:

And before anyone pulls the “But I got my children’s names tattooed across my heart because I’ll always love them” card, just hold up a minute. You can’t be serious, can you? If you need a massive tattoo across your chest, back or forearm to stand as a reminder of how much you will always love your children – then you really don’t love your children! You just want other people to think that you do. People who really and truly love their children do not need to advertise it on their flesh!

Now, this is something with which I agree. Displays of affection for loved ones? Over it! While we’re at it, all you poseurs who hang pictures of deceased family members in your homes? Cut the crap. We know you’re just trying to trick visitors into thinking you loved Grandma. God, you are so selfish.

Elsewhere on the Internets, Tyler F. Williams unleashes the hate for Danielle Lloyd — allegedly some sort of British pseudo-celebrity — who just recently got this transliterated Hebrew tattoo:

(photo removed due to copyright request)
Williams, a scholar of religion and theology, took issue with Lloyd’s facacta ink:

Not only is the tattoo gibberish; it isn’t written in Hebrew (i.e., the language) at all! When I first looked at the pictures of the tattoo, I couldn’t figure it out. It wasn’t Biblical Hebrew. I didn’t think it was modern Hebrew. I was looking up words in my modern Hebrew dictionary and starting to think that I shouldn’t be teaching Hebrew this semester! Then I figured it out. The tattoo isn’t written in the Hebrew language, but is English written with Hebrew letters! If you transliterate the Hebrew characters into their English counterparts, voila!, you get the supposed translation: “Only God can judge me, only God can judge me.” What makes this even more silly utterly ridiculous is that the transliteration isn’t even consistent. In the first occurrence, “can” is spelled qof-nun (קן) while the second time it is spelled kaf-nun (כן). Not only doesn’t Danielle know Hebrew, she apparently doesn’t even know how to spell “can” in English! (I won’t even comment on the rest of the supposed transliteration)

If there was a prize or award for the dumbest tattoo, this should certainly win. I just can’t believe it… this is beyond stupid.

In all fairness, Williams’s objections are based in the fact that the tattoo is an affront to his passions and his studies. Bosco is just a dick.

A tattoo is a permanent reminder that you are an idiot [Anthony Bosco’s Weblog]
Danielle Lloyd: The Dumbest Hebrew Tattoo Yet! [Codex: Biblical Studies Blogspot]

One Needle for Another

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It seems strange, at first blush, to be ashamed of a disease, especially a hereditary condition to which you may be genetically predisposed. Sure, if you eat like crap or are a furious chain-smoker, there may be parts of your life on which to look back and regret (not to say a person should feel shame about the resulting illness, of course), but to harbor those sorts of feelings because of an affliction caused by little more than dumb luck? Seems a little harsh.

Photo credit: Spencer Weiner / Los Angeles Times

But consider the imposition rather than the disease itself — to have your life and livelihood restricted by a force out of your control, and to be inadvertently singled out among your peers as a result. So was the case for Joshua Sandoval, who was diagnosed with diabetes as a 12-year-old.

Says Sandoval:

Some kids pretend they don’t have diabetes, giving in to the temptation of sugar and refusing to exercise regularly or monitor their glucose levels. Some go to the other extreme, constantly checking glucose levels, exercising every day and openly discussing their disease.

I fell somewhere in the middle. I was obsessive when it came to checking glucose levels, and I stayed active in sports like baseball and basketball, but I was unwilling to discuss my illness.

His parents struggled to get him to embrace the imperfect part of himself, though, and, when he was 16, his mother gave him the idea of getting a tattoo as a way to own the disease and the rituals of a careful diet and daily injections that came along with it. Permanence in any respect can be daunting; it’s hard to fault someone for wavering when faced with the terms of a lifelong commitment, especially one that’s been decided for you. It’s not uncommon to see people get tattoos to commemorate challenging events — events some people would rather just forget — and Sandoval’s decision seems to follow that line of thinking: Combatting permanence with permanence, and turning a purveyor of shame into a source of pride.

Two weeks after the tattoo healed, I was in line at the post office when the pen tip crept out from a short-sleeved shirt. A woman standing in line with no visible artwork of her own asked to see the rest of the tattoo.

After she took a picture with her camera phone and commented about the detail in the feather, she asked about the tattoo’s significance.

For the first time in 10 years, my head didn’t slump between my shoulders.

A diabetic turns to the tattoo as medical I.D. [Los Angeles Times]

Full Coverage: Links From All Over.

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[Premiere.com] Long-time BME supporter (and full-time-job-having sell-out) Jenni recently interviewed Vera Farmiga, co-star of the new amputation-fetish film, Quid Pro Quo. Nick Stahl takes the lead as wheelchair-bound journalist Isaac, who, while researching the subculture of voluntary amputees (some of whom mention their jealousy of Isaac’s condition), meets Fiona (Farmiga), a woman with Body Integrity Identity Disorder who wants nothing more than to spend her life in a wheelchair. Something tells me Farmiga’s been reading BME. From the interview:

Farmiga: You know, you read these testimonies online and there’s such a sense of aloneness and this desolate feeling of despair, just feeling so alone in this, and self-demand amputation is illegal [except] under only the most rigid psychiatric evaluations and testing. There’s only a handful of doctors and hospitals that will approve self-demand amputation, so people go to great lengths… throw themselves in front of trains, use shotguns, hurt themselves. I don’t know what to think. I can’t even imagine… This obsession completely possesses these people, and there is a real sense of spiritual unrest. The cases I’ve heard of and read about of people actually going through [amputation] — whether they’ve done it themselves or had it professionally taken care of — there is a ninety-something percent satisfaction, that these people say that they feel more spiritually fulfilled and it’s not a case of being disabled any more, it’s becoming able-bodied… feeling whole in relation to that broken person within. I cannot pretend to comprehend it, and it’s very difficult. I mean, this is like the same thing as transgenderism a while ago; people couldn’t fathom it… I have no personal feelings towards it; I couldn’t, especially having to play Fiona.

[InkedMag.com] Athletes with tattoos hardly qualify as breaking news, but Inked Magazine just put together a rather entertaining profile of Florida Marlins pitcher Justin Miller, who is pretty much tattooed from asshole to elbow. He’s so heavily covered, in fact, that Major League Baseball insisted that he wear long sleeves, as his various pieces of work were apparently too much of a distraction to opposing batters. Luckily, his teammates seem fine with it:

[…] it was revealed that Miller had “I (heart) Billy Koch” tattooed on his ass after losing a bet with teammate and friend Billy Koch. In exchange, Koch gave Miller $2,000 for his trouble and paid for the tattoo. As word of the bet spread, Koch felt so bad that he gave Miller’s wife $500 as compensation for her pain and humiliation.

“It was a silly bet. Honestly, at the time I was getting a lot of tattoos. [Koch and I] got traded for each other a couple of years before. I have fun telling that story, and we’re boys to this day. He’ll definitely never let me forget about it,” Miller says. “I think [my teammates] wait until the shower just so they can peek instead of asking to see my ass.”

Of course, it’s hard to live down the reputation one receives after getting teammates’ names etched on one’s hindparts, I guess:

Marlins pitcher Scott Olsen, who had been pulled over by Florida police the previous summer and charged with DUI before allegedly being shocked with a taser, approached Miller with a proposition of his own. “He wants me to get his mug shot tattooed on my ass. I don’t think that’s going to work,” says Miller. “I don’t think my wife wants to see Olsen’s picture there. So we’re not going to go with that.”

Geez, you lose one bet and everyone treats your ass like the community mural. Remind me to convert to a religion that prohibits gambling. (Via Deadspin)

[MSNBC.MSN.com] Speaking of religion (Ed. Note: That’s how you do a fucking segue, friends), Jessa sends in this story about Todd Bentley, an evangelist from British Columbia, Canada, who is not the average preacher. Bentley, the founder of Fresh Fire Ministries, leans toward the Pentecostal range of practices — none of which, luckily, seem to conflict with the fact that he is likely one of the more heavily pierced and tattooed evangelical ministers around. Apparently, such appearances are insignificant when you can flex your God-ceps the way he claims to be able to:

Bentley claims that God has used him to supernaturally heal hundreds of people of diseases ranging from glaucoma to diabetes to even cancer.

[…] he doesn’t know exactly why now, why him, […] and he does not promise that everyone who comes to him will be healed. But he does maintain a pragmatic posture toward prayer.

“I say, you have nothing to lose but your sickness. If the doctors can’t help you, why wouldn’t you give God a chance?”

Pragmatic indeed! But I hear you saying, “Well, religion is a crutch and a fairy tale, why travel such a distance and at such an expense when I could just as easily pray to the water stain on my bathroom wall?” To which I say, if you’re not willing to give yourself up to the will of a man who lists on his MySpace page the people he’d most like to meet as “Jesus, King David, Paul the Apostle [… and] Hulk Hogan,” well, then you probably deserve the Gout or whatever the hell it is that’s wrong with you.

How I Learned to Stop Being a Vapid Moron and Kind of Love a Guy With a Tattoo.

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Via those sassy dames over at Jezebel (“sassy dames” is the preferred nomenclature, right?) comes this inspirational story of a courageous woman named Sarah Robbins who learns to see past the gruesome disfigurement terrorizing the precious corpus of her boyfriend. Or something. Let’s give this the thorough FJM’ing it deserves.

Is Love Skin Deep?
One guy’s scary body art puts his girlfriend to the test.

Hey, we’re all pretty experienced, erudite fans of body modification here, so the chances of one of us finding body art “scary”? Probably pretty low. That said, I can certainly sympathize with the average un-modified person (let’s do everybody a favor and bury the term “plainskin”) who may be fascinated, disturbed or even, yes, scared by someone like, say, Skullboy. If body modification were totally foreign to me for whatever reason and I ran into him randomly? Might be a little spooked.

So … clearly the “scary body art” referred to in the title here must be something like that, right?

[…] on our third date, he made me dinner at his place. By then, I was really liking what I saw: a handsome, short-haired, glasses-wearing guy who owned his own business and attended the ballet with his mom.

OK — probably no skull tattoos on his face. Split tongue, perhaps? That might be scary. Come on, split tongue!

I was admiring the way he decorated his apartment with both framed photos and living plants when suddenly his lips were on mine. Kissing him was even more warm and wonderful than I’d imagined.

Damn it. Genital beads? Gotta be it. Hulking, intimidating, mountainous, pulsing genital beads.

Then he pulled off his sweater, and something came between us.

Third arm! Fuck! That was totally my next guess, too.

Technically, it was someone: a tattoo on his upper left arm of a vibrant, crazy, and most unmistakably skinless man. Not a skeleton, mind you; a man with no skin—just organs, graphically rendered in sickly red, orange, and yellow swirls.

Oh. Just … a tattoo? Huh. That sounds like a pretty cool tattoo, actually. Attention, gentleman with the crazy girlfriend who writes for Marie Claire: please send a picture of your cool-sounding tattoo to BME.

I was shocked by the aggressiveness of it. He’d seemed so…normal. Gentle, even.

Little did she know that he kidnaps men, peels off their skin, uses a complex system of rays to shrink them down and then buries them deep within his arms! Ahhhh!

“What is that?” I blurted.

Totally the sort of thing you’d blurt out after … seeing … a tattoo … on a grown man?

I regretted it right away. With those three words, our makeout session came to an abrupt end, as he pulled back, giving me the chance to sneak another look at that thing on his arm. Yes, there was no getting around it: a man made entirely of muscles and guts, with piercing green eyes.

I’d say he was probably actually made mostly of ink. And some sweat. And maybe just a little bit of love.

“What, this?” he asked. “It’s a tattoo.”

Excellent answer. Quick, to the point.

Uh, yeah. It was actually the biggest, brightest, scariest piece of body art I’d ever seen close up. “But what…is it?” I inquired, a little more gently this time. “What does it mean?”

Maybe I’m just antisocial, but I hate answering this question more than just about anything. I’d rather every meathead on the subway ask me, “How much them shits in you ears hurt?” than have to explain away my ill-fated high school interest in sacred geometry.

Anyway, not to be too much of a jerk, but I have a hard time imagining a place in modern-day North America where a grown woman could live 25-30 years (I’m guessing) without ever seeing (what sounds like) a half-sleeve in the flesh. Were you just released from a basement in Austria?

He tried to explain: It had something to do with his interest in the medieval artist Hieronymus Bosch. And there was a mention of total respect for the tattoo artist. Oh, and, “These designs are exactly what brain synapses look like…”

I’m seriously liking this guy more and more. Is it too late to invite him to ModProm?

I wanted to like it—to dig the anatomical accuracy and artistry—because I liked him. But the truth is, it was a turnoff. Skeletons and synapses? No thanks. While my mind reeled, he kept talking.

Was your mind really reeling? It sounds like you two were about to get busy, and now all you can think about is the tattoo on his arm? If someone were trying to tattoo a skeleton onto his penis while you two were having sex, sure, maybe that would be a turnoff, but you’re just being ridiculous, lady.

“…And I can’t wait to finish it.”

Turned out, he hadn’t had time yet to complete his masterpiece.

I hope when you’re cooking him dinner some day, he walks over, tastes a piece of uncooked chicken and then, in between retches off the balcony, makes a bunch of bullshit catty comments about how lucky he is to have such a talented gourmet chef in the house.

When my friends heard the story, they reminded me that not only are tattoos totally common (more than a third of 20-somethings have at least one), but ink is, for many, a big turn-on. Bottom line, they said: A tattoo, no matter how weird, should not be a deal-breaker. The guy had too many other great qualities. Plus, it was still winter—there were plenty of months of sweater weather ahead of us.

They “reminded” you of this? Because you were just so mortified, so absolutely dumbstruck that these difficult and complex points just could not penetrate? You are so brave.

As the weeks wore on, I tried befriending the skinless man who slept between us. One night, after a few glasses of wine, I gave him a name: Telly Savalas, after the late, bald actor who starred in a detective series when I was a kid. Let’s face facts: It’s not like the tattoo was going anywhere. I was naming the elephant in the room.

You should have made an ultimatum. No, really. I would have loved to see how that played out. Also: you were seriously still hung up on this after a few weeks? Apparently Marie Claire needs to get you copyediting or something to occupy your time.

Our meet-the-parents moment came in the midst of a serious heat wave. Even sandals felt stifling; long sleeves were out of the question. Although Telly peeked out just a few inches past my boyfriend’s T-shirt sleeve, I was a nervous wreck, keeping tabs on which side of my mother my boyfriend walked on. Blessedly, my folks didn’t say a thing.

“Well, Jim, you’ve got a good job, handsome features, a winning disposition and you’ve never been anything but a perfect gentleman to Sarah. Unfortunately, it’s been brought to my attention that you have a small tattoo on your arm. In light of this, the guards will escort you to the gate, and a laser fixed to a satellite will disintegrate you if you come within 100 yards of my daughter. You asshole.”

As the work of art neared completion, strangers couldn’t help but take notice.

“Dude! What is that?”
“Can I see?”
“Where’d you get that?”
“Why’d you do it? Did it hurt?”

The questions came from all sides—in the subway, on the street, at restaurants and movie theaters. My boyfriend just blew them off. “Imagine complete strangers feeling entitled to touch you,” he told me. “Plus, I did it for me. I shouldn’t have to explain myself.”

Uh … yeah! I can totally see why you’re into this guy. Fuckin’ on point, man. Are you doing anything later? Let me buy you a beer. As friends! Just friends.

I was surprised, and a little irked, by his reaction: Why walk around with something so nutty if not to provoke a response?

Because not everybody is a narcissistic dingbat who puts the minutiae of their lives up on a national pedestal for everyone to scrutinize (and, ideally, praise). You know, like a columnist writing a dumbshit article about how difficult it is to love a wonderful man who has a single tattoo.

Seriously though, is this for real? You don’t understand why getting a tattoo in a visible place isn’t an invitation to strangers to come and touch it? This is surprising? Irksome, even? Did you get your journalism degree from the University of Phoenix?

I started thinking about our future. After all, a tattoo in your 20s is one thing, but what about in your 70s? If we had kids together, would they be terrified of that monster on Dad’s arm?

No.

[…] Telly has actually taught me a few things. A little about anatomy, sure, but more about the ways I can be superficial. I’d long trusted that my boyfriend’s love for me runs far deeper than the way I look; now I can say unequivocally that I feel the same about him. It’s a truth that, every once in a while, bears repeating.

So, you acknowledge that you’re totally superficial, and rather than try to change that wholly unappealing part of you … you embrace it completely and, in fact, claim some sort of moral victory due to the fact that you’re occasionally able to set aside your own glaring flaws and not be disgusted by this entirely inconsequential part of your boyfriend (who sounds awesome, by the way) that actually means a lot to him?

Um … sweet.

BME AT NIX 2008 – ART FUSION EXPERIMENT AT M.O.C.C.A.

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Click the image to read more.

As a precursor to the Northen Ink Xposure tattoo convention (NIX), Toronto’s Museum of Contemporary Canadian Art played host to the Art Fusion Experiment (AFE), which ran June 11-12. On Saturday night at M.O.C.C.A., canvases from the AFE will be auctioned off to benefit Art City in St. James Town, a Toronto-based not-for-profit organization “committed to providing free and accessible art programs to the children of St. James Town.”

BMXnet Conference 2007/2008

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I’m glad to be able to republish the recap of the BMXnet conference to help support the efforts of INKstar and others in putting together a great educational conference. Click the image to read last year’s recap and find out information on this years convention. I’m happy to be a sponsor this year and should be attending the conference, even though due to Germany’s restrictions, BMXnet cannot link to BME.


BMXnet Conference 2007

By IAM: INKstar

In early November 2007, about 150 piercers, tattooists and other body modification artists came together to attend and participate in the first BMXnet Conference. This is an account written by one of the organizers, and was translated from German to English by Hillary.

The NBA: Where Tattooed Freaks of Nature Happen.

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One of the drawbacks of being a columnist is occasionally having to write insane, rambling, borderline incoherent insane ramblings and then try to justify these random words and phrases as a cogent thought you squeezed out of your very own mind grapes. For example:

In NBA playoffs, less ink means more viewers.

Sigh. Excuse me while I go all Fire Joe Morgan on what is sure to be quite the tone poem, after the jump.

Over the next couple of weeks you’ll hear lots of theories about why TV ratings are surging for the NBA playoffs.

Hmm, well, there may be lots of theories, but the correct ones will be the ones that mention (A) the fact that this season has been repeatedly noted by the press as being one of the most exciting ones in recent memory, and (2) that the NBA has trotted out some pretty great advertising campaigns this year, including these rather awesome split-screen TV spots. Also, with the Boston Celtics and the Los Angeles Lakers now in the Finals, two of most popular franchises ever have been playing their asses off.

Of course it helps that large TV markets with storied franchises (Boston and Los Angeles) are still alive and favorites to make the NBA Finals. And, yes, it helps that the league’s two most successful franchises over the last five years (San Antonio and Detroit) are competing against the Lakers and the Celtics.

Hey, that’s almost like what I said!

But there’s one issue driving improved ratings that likely won’t be touched by all the NBA talking heads on TNT and ESPN.

I’ll mention here that Jason Whitlock is, at times, one of the better sports writers in America — or, at the very least, one of the most fearless. He speaks to bloggers more frequently than most other mainstream media personalities; he takes controversial positions on race relations, but seldom backs down and is always ready to defend himself. Also, along the way, he gained the fabulous nickname, “Big Sexy.” All of this is to say, I like Jason Whitlock, and if he claims there’s another important issue at stake here, I’m willing to listen.

Tattoos. Or rather the lack of tattoos in the conference finals.

Oh, fuck.

Part of the reason more people are watching these playoffs is because the average fan isn’t constantly repulsed by the appearance of most of the players on the court.

Maybe I’m bad at being a basketball fan, but I’m usually more concerned with the incredible feats of strength and agility being performed on a basketball court than the barbed-wire some guy has on his bicep.

Most of the key players left in the playoffs don’t look like recent prison parolees.

Neither do most of the players who have been eliminated, but hey. You’re the nationally respected sportswriter, I guess.

The only accurate way to describe Garnett, Pierce, Duncan, Allen, Manu, Parker and even Kobe is “clean cut.” Yeah, there are a couple of tattoos in that group — Duncan has something on his back, Kobe still has his post-rape-allegation tat — but the Lakers, Spurs and Celtics have far less ink on average than your typical NBA franchise.

For those keeping score at home: Tim Duncan’s tattoo is the exact same as the metaphorical tattoo Kobe Bryant wears in the form of residual shame after being accused of raping a woman. If you have trouble understanding this equation, please see Dr. Whitlock to pick up your crazy-pills.

Allen Iverson and Carmelo Anthony have more tats on their hands than the entire Spurs roster.

Also, they’re incredibly talented players and often seen as being far more interesting as human beings than the robotic Spurs, who are renowned for lacking anything resembling human qualities.

I know many of you probably think the number of tattoos doesn’t influence viewing habits.

*raises hand*

*shakes hand wildly*

*starts pounding head on desk with hand in the air*

You’re wrong. Like everything else televised, appearances matter. There’s a reason you don’t see nude scenes in movies with fat people. Trust me, fat people have sex. It’s just no one wants to see it. Not even fat people.

And take it from Whitlock, a bona fide fat dude! Anyway, of course appearances matter, but we’re talking about a professional sport where the average height is like eight feet. People watching the NBA should be used to seeing humans who look slightly different than the average person.

No one wants to watch Delonte West or Larry Hughes play basketball. It’s uncomfortable and disconcerting. You don’t want your kids to see it.

True story: West and Hughes are bad at playing basketball. Especially Hughes. Terrible form for your kids to take after. Makes me kind of sick just thinking about it, actually.

You don’t want your kids to think they should decorate their neck, arms, hands, chest and legs in paint. You don’t want to waste time explaining to your kids that some millionaire athletes have so little genuine self-confidence that they find it necessary to cover themselves in tattoos as a way to mask their insecurities.

Oh … you meant because they’re tattooed. Right. Well, I mean, Allen Iverson seems about as self-assured as professional athletes come: when his Nuggets were about to face Kobe and the Lakers, he made several comments saying that Kobe — this season’s MVP — is still not as good as he is. Maybe he just likes tattoos?

You just want to watch basketball and feel like you’re watching people you can relate to a little bit, people you somewhat respect.

Like I said, you’re watching eleven-foot-tall supermen who make no less than $275,000 a year. I’m sure many of them are very nice guys, but on what level are you relating to them? Sure, Gilbert Arenas likes to hang out at home and play video games, but his home is a castle the size of your street and his plasma screen is made out of the actual plasma of endangered leopards.

We finally have that again on the NBA’s biggest stage, and everyone can see it because the league’s substance isn’t covered in a barrel of tattoo ink.

OH BECAUSE OTHERWISE WE COULDN’T SEE BECAUSE OF ALL THE INK LOL

It’s a television show. Pleasant smiles, non-threatening people sell products better than menacing, tattooed brutes.

Like Signal to Noise mentioned, the latest issue of Sports Illustrated features a cover story on Josh Hamilton, the heavily tattooed center fielder of the Texas Rangers who happens to be one of the best players in baseball this season. I mean, considering I don’t know what the fuck Sports Illustrated is and can only assume they’re a brand new “sports” “blog” or something or other that was only created in order to fail miserably, it would stand to reason that they would put this totally unmarketable, tattooed freak on their cover. Fucking idiots. I bet he doesn’t even have a winning smile.

If I was David Stern, I’d commission Nike and/or Under Armor to create a basketball jersey with long sleeves, all the way down to the wrists. I’d make Iverson wear a turtleneck jersey with sleeves. I’d cover the tats.

Good idea. Luckily, David Stern isn’t a moron and would have you forcibly removed from his office before you could even finish making this suggestion. You know, the Nazis had turtlenecks they made the Jews wear.

Do you think Sports Illustrated would let its swimsuit models cover themselves in tattoos? Models are paid to look good.

Also, Sports Illustrated swimsuit models are very frequently airbrushed with colorful designs that may as well be tattoos. And, hey, they still look good! Admittedly, though, I do mean good enough for this so-called Sports Illustrated thing that neither I nor anyone else has ever even heard of.

Athletes are no different from models.

They’re actually completely different, aside from the general lack of body fat.

It’s unfortunate that too many young athletes are too unenlightened to approach the game like a business. They resist almost all ideas that would put more money in their pockets. They have to be forced to do the little things that would help them make more money.

You know, I’d argue the more unfortunate trend is that young athletes are encouraged to be all about the business end of things. Not to say that they shouldn’t be coached and expected to be as professional as possible, but treating the game strictly like a business leads to athletes with no real personalities of their own — just soulless shills for their sponsors, driven by the desire to squeeze a few more dollars rather than enjoying themselves and their status as some of the best athletes in the world in one of the most physically taxing sports leagues in the world. Isn’t there a certain purity in a player who would rebuff sponsors and, instead, get all tattooed and kick ass on his own terms?

Growing NBA ratings is what’s best for the players in the long term. Adopting a non-prison-ready appearance would help everyone in the league earn more money. But no one will talk about it.

Ratings were high all season long, even when these miscreants and ruffians were still in action. Also, the idea that, “no one will talk about it” is as absurd as it is incorrect: just a few seasons ago, NBA commissioner David Stern instituted a new policy that required all players not playing on a particular day to follow a fairly strict dress code and to not wear “street clothes,” which is kind of the same thing, right?

Maybe Stern (correctly) assumed that, considering how many of the league’s elite players have tattoos — I would wager it’s somewhere around 99% — it would be idiotic to tell them to, you know, not get them? Or to punish the ones that do? Wouldn’t that be worse for business — to water down the talent pool to just the ink-free — than letting these goddamn thugs and circus freaks just play basketball?