Skin Deep

Standard

So, after cleaning up all the scrapes and scraps and cuts and bits that came from my fight with the garden, I tried to be extra conscientious about keeping it clean and sterilized and, of course, it took about a day and a half to get infected.  I wound up on antibiotics that I finished yesterday, yay, with only puking once.  Any prescription that ends in “…xin” is guaranteed to do a job on my delicate stomach.  So that’s over, I’m guzzling yogurt to replace all the flora and fauna that the meds killed off in my gut and things will be great very soon.

In the meantime, let us turn our attention to a much more appealing topic, the ever popular Muscle Pussy.  I always try to include some example of it in my posts because 1) it amuses me and 2) there is so much of it available now through the magic of the internet.  When I was a young poof, I could never have dreamed of a day when there was such a wealth of beefcake spread out before us.

Usually, I just paste up some taut skinned youth and don’t really discuss it, but today I have to protest this beauty’s tragic choice of body adornment, or “ink” as the youth of today would have it.

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Look at that flawless, smooth, clear, satiny skin, tagged with the stupidest array of strip mall tattoo parlor art I’ve ever seen.  It looks like he just wandered in between his shifts at the Olive Garden and had them slap on whatever they had time to finish before he had to get back to work.

Oddly enough, considering what an old codger I am, I don’t mind tattoos in general, but if you’re going to cover a lot of ground with them, there should be some idea or concept that pulls them together in a cohesive style.  You know this boy, on the other hand, doubtless has Bart Simpson in there somewhere.  “Molly.”  Really?  What happens when Molly decides she’s a lesbian after all and dumps you and your beautiful tits?  And “1994”?  I remember 1994, sort of, what about it?  I know, it’s probably when he was born, which makes having this much numbnuts stupid tats just that much worse.  I can’t get over how lovely his skin is.  It’s like he has no pores.  To cover any of it seems like a waste.

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Then we have this boy, with a much more discreet and attractive… something.  And I’m talking about the tattoo, by the way.  I don’t know, is it backwards?  So he can read it while he admires his big, fat man piece in the mirror?  Is it “This end up” in latin?  Who knows?  And leopard skin hair!  I haven’t seen leopard skin hair since I was a gay young thing.  And that was a long time ago.

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And this last boy just because I thought he was pretty and had such lovely eyes.

All these came courtesy of the fascinating tumblr site Sparticus 2000 .  I cannot recommend cruising around there enough.

23 responses »

  1. Darling! I agree wholeheartedly with your opinion of “tats-for-tats-sake”. I mean, look at Tom Hardy’s face and one can quite imagine all sorts of sordid adventures, but I see his hideously “inked” body and just feel a bit like I’m looking at an Edwardian “circus sideshow”. David Beckham, too, has gone too far. It’s such a shame. Jx

    PS I’d forgive cock #2 any number of sins, however, despite the “illuminated manuscript” [I think it says “Fuck It” backwards; and I would] adorning his belly…

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  2. When ever I see a young person with lots of tattoos I think what the tattoos will look like in a few years as the body spreads. Not an attractive look.

    For some strange reason poeple think Old English script is “classy”. It isn’t.

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    • Exactly. The old age homes of the future will be filled with all the horrors of today, plus stretched out, blurry ink.

      And picking that Illuminated Manuscript, or whatever they call it, because it looks so fancy says something about his taste. Now that I think about it, I would like to find out first hand how he tastes.

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  3. “how lovely his skin is. It’s like he has no pores”

    Photoshop. He’s as airbrushed as a Playboy bunny.

    Best wishes for your continued recovery from the gardening contretemps.

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    • Thank you so much. And I suppose you’re right about Photoshopping. It seems odd to put that much effort into a borderline smutty picture, but I guess every new picture that winds up out on the web has gone through the Photoshop mill.

      Although, I would point out that I have been lucky enough to have engaged in carnal acts with boys who really did have skin that clear. One shudders to think what they must look like now. Time is so so cruel.

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  4. I have tattoos, but they all have a meaning and work well together.
    So I agree with the randomness of ink, splotched over the body like some skin condition.
    In the end, i’ll take the bottom man, or top man, as it were.

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  5. I’m glad you’ve recovered from your attempt to emulate Jack of “Jack and Jill” fame. As for your illustrations, # 1 needs bleach and a scrub brush, stat! The skin graffiti on #2 seems to be medieval Transylvanian for “I’m with Stupid.” And I’ll take a dozen of #3.

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  6. Molly is an old English word for a homosexual and a Molly House is where the ‘mollies’ meet. I would like pic 2’s body with picture 1’s head on it, then he could cock whip me into submission, it wouldn’t take much doing.

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    • I don’t know, I’m really quit taken with Number 2’s expression which implies a complete lack of intelligence but still quite amiable. Cock whipping supplied for a nominal fee.

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  7. The rubbishly tatted yoof appears to be made of plastic, but I suppose he’d be easy to wipe clean afterwards? At least number Two seems real enough, albeit from the Victorian era. Which leaves number Three who certainly is pretty, and certainly does have lovely eyes. Looks like I’ll have to get in line behind your other commenters…

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  8. Add me to the anti-tattoo brigade – I simply spent too much time as a small child at an old people’s home (long story), and the knowledge of how all those Spanish-American and First World War vets looked is more than enough to remove any allure.

    Specimen number two, despite the unfortunate lettering (and the leopardy hair), looks something like what I imagine the result would be of a collaboration between M. Jean Cocteau and Mr. Tom O. Finland, and a rather salubrious one at that.

    I’ve been trying to think of what, by the bye, the leopard coiffure reminded me, and it finally struck me that it was this

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    • I keep hoping they’re going to become passe, but so far they’re showing more staying power than I expected. And I’m disappointed, but the link didn’t work, so now we’ll all be left wondering.

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