Douchiest ‘Bag Trend: The “Ink Dicky”
Mr. Scrotato Head hands out the award:
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If there’s one thing Douchebags aren’t its original. If they were, Christian Audiger would be standing on a street corner in his own thread worn designs waiving a sign that reads “Will destroy your way of life for pretentious vodka”.
Trapped in their extended adolescence, nut muggers express their individuality by aping the behaviors of those they aspire to both hang with and ultimately replace in the Vegas pool-side pecking order. But it’s never enough to just copy the repulsive trends of scrotestain society. In order to achieve true individuality, each douchal signifier must be pushed to a new level of absurdity, to go, if you will, to “11” on the scale of remove-my-eyes-with-a-rusty-urine-coated-melon baller.
And so it is that the Full Circle Neck Tatt, or “Ink Dicky”, is crowned 2011 Douchiest Bag Trend.
What started with the Maori arm sleeve has now been pushed so over the top that as a form of self loathing and lack of intelligence it is literally spilling over the tops of more and more Ed Hardy v-neck tee shirts.
It takes real balls to spend your last unemployment check on a tattoo that will ensure that you never qualify for unemployment again. And these guys have got them. Look close. They’re tattooed on their Adams Apples.
True fact: I was in Las Vegas District Court recently (as a lawyer, not a defendant) and saw a human pustule standing beside the docket, looking for his name, who had an entire lime green lizard tattooed on the side of his face (it covered his cheek, wrapped around his eye socket, went up to his forehead and wrapped down (its tail) around his neck.
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.No doubt, the sentencing judge was MOST impressed.
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.Roy’s Beans
Question: leaving aside my deep-middle aged disgust with all things tattooed (and understanding that some of them have some significance to someone…) does ANY chick really get her loins lubricated over looking at an ink dicky? .
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.Unless they’re on their third gram of meth that weekend?
“It takes real balls to spend your last unemployment check……..”
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Amen brother Scrotato.
I thought I won, but I just mis-read it as “Icky Dink”.
Anyone that saunters around with a bottle of Corona gripped firmly by the neck like it’s his cock deserves to get kicked in the anus.
I thought it said “Dinky Dick”. Which would also be appropriate I am sure.
Mr. Head has gone right to the heart of the problem. But, as true capitalists, we can all profit from this most heinous trend. Invest now, my fellow hunters, in Doc Wilson’s Wrecking Balm. http://www.wreckingbalm.com
Trending Next Year: The Inky Dick; rating a 14 on Mr. Scrotato Heads scale…
There will be always something about certain tattoos that irritate me profoundly, and there is nothing quite like irritation to get the juices circulating and the mind working. However amongst those certain tattoos I find irritating there are the ones that infuriate me. Which makes them worth observing all the more; for it must be confessed that indignation is one of the most rewarding of all emotions, as well as one that automatically gives meaning to life. When one is indignant, one does not wonder what life is for or about, the immensity of the universe does not trouble one, and the profound and unanswerable questions of the metaphysics of morals are held temporarily in abeyance. Witness: we are social beings because we have a capacity to feel humiliated – or perhaps it’s the other way round. Be this as it may, there could be no prospect of humiliation if there were no actual means by which we might be humiliated. The desire to blur limits and boundaries, in order to overturn society, has long marked out a certain kind of leftist. Because in social phenomena there are always borderline cases, they wish to undermine the very idea of categories. They are like people who would deny that anyone is tall because there is a fine gradation between tallest and shortest. Thus, because some things were considered crimes that are so considered no longer, and some things that were once legal that are now deemed criminal, they deny that the crime is anything other that an arbitrary social construction. A criminal is someone who merely has difficulty in his relations with society as some men have difficulties in their relations with their wives (and vice versa). What could be more natural, therefore, than that they should all be stamped with ink, which will have the miraculous effect of not merely redeeming their shortcomings, but converting their shortcomings into virtues. Mr Scrotato Head you obviously recognise just how preposterous and deeply condescending this profound sickness of the age truly is: the desire, the overwhelming urge to be more-inked-than-thou. You sir, not only notice this trend of generosity of spirit at other people’s expense, you sir, let us know how you feel about it. Congratulations!
Wow. It does take balls.
From that link, Uncle Ritchey and Aunt Maureen look like something you may see on a day old battlefield gauze dressing covering necrotic tissue.
Those two are just yuckie.
Nice one, Mr S Head. It was a natural progression from the “Glory Hole Doiley” to the “Ink Dicky”.
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Acceptance is the reason.
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I still do not understand how one can look at the people photo’d above and say they want to be/look like them. These guys aren’t just douchebags to the Fuck² power they are criminally insane.
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Luckily they are still the minority, outcasts, low level citizens. Right? I hope I’m right
VD – Being as that’s John Tuturro on the right, I’m not sure that you’re correct.
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And I’m scared.
Very nice. I hate ink dickies way more than regular dickies. There is only one person that can get away with a dickie. That person is Mr. Belvedere. And by Belvedere I mean coming straight at us from New York…
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Garth Brooks and…Kiss?
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You surely take Dj requests, right, Kroeger? Tower of Power, please.
Please refrain from addressing Mr.Douchal by his initials.
Hey Kroeger, if you’re gonna spin T.O.P. please use something other than “What Is Hip?” because Vin just spun that one the other day. How about “We Came to Play” or “Down To The Nightclub”?
@ Tall Guy
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Allow me to take this one.
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If you’re gonna want some more T.O.P. the new videos are good because they have better sound/visual quality. But in my opinion as a dude that has seen T.O.P. at least 50 times, been backstage to meet my hero , Rocco Prestia and have followed them from the cavern-like blacked out disco basement days of the 70’s to the anonymous 80’s when they would play on a back hill at L.A. Fair to the present day where they pack the stands everywhere you can NOT beat the original line up:
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Songs to showcase Lennie Williams singing, Willy Fulton on guitar and the incomparable Chester Thompson on the Hammond B-3 Organ as Lenny Picket dances like a canibal:
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Or Lenny Taking ovre the entire free world with his sax and badassed red head afro:
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Regarding T.O.P, how’s bout when they played with The Grateful Dead and Etta James for a 3rd set on NYE’s 12/31/82.
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Turn on Your Love Light
Tell Mama
Baby What You Want Me to Do
Hard to Handle
Midnight Hour.
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Oh and as always Mr Scrotato kicks ass!!!!!
T.O.P. recently did a cd of American soul hits from over the years . They had Joss Stone , Sam and Dave a few other greats but their current singer Larry Braggs is a great frontman pulling off great versions of Me and Mrs Jones and this one:
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^You had to mention Hammond B3. When I was in university I had a student painting company. We were painting a house that an old lady died in to cover up the stink cause she was dead for a while. Her son asked me if I wanted the organ and leslie and tone cabinet when he was handing me the cheque. I said no cause I didn’t know anything about it other than my uncle had one and played polka music on it. I was 21. Fuck, fucky, fucking fuck, fuck, fucking fuck. Now all I got is a Wurlitzer piano and drums in boxes.
The Inky Dicky is indeed quite appalling and even harder to remove than a normal dicky. I really have nothing more to add since Mr. Scrotato did such a great job. A round of boobs on the house, that’s what you people drink right? Anyway I would like to make a request for the DJ to play “Pumped Up Kicks”. It’s my jam, yo.
I have the luxury as being as tattooed as I like. I take great pride in not looking like a circus freak. In long sleeves and jeans, you can’t tell me apart from anyone else, save for my Sideshow Bob hair. No tattoos on my neck, my hands, my feet. Come to think of it, I don’t have a single tattoo on my torso and I really have no ambition to change that. I find it odd that when I see people like Ink Dicky here, I’m repulsed. I think, “What a trashy piece of shit.” I see girls with tattooed hands and I think, “Skank”. Why? I don’t know. Maybe my sense of aesthetic is not what the rest of the industry likes. And that’s fine, to each his own, and I’m not foolish enough to deny the fact that people like Ink Dicky are the reason I live in a 4 bedroom house and drive a vintage luxury car and have been to Europe so many times. But I feel no compulsion to join these people. I don’t want to be part of that competition, that screaming-for-attention contest that is leading to this and this and, oh for crying out loud, this.
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I had the pleasure of meeting Brian Setzer at a shop I used to work at. About tattoos, he used to say that his father once said, “Never get a tattoo where a judge can see it.” I concur. I’ve had small run-ins with the law, and you bet your sweet ass I was in court in a suit, hose, heels the whole thing. If I hadn’t been so young, I could have been mistaken for a prosecutor. And i looked around at the sea of tattooed dudes with their pants around their ankles and fifteen rings in their faces. I found it no coincidence that, time after time my cases were thrown out and these guys were getting sentenced.
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The world does indeed judge by appearances. Once upon a time i was charged about “breaking down stereotypes” about weirdos. Then I grew up and realized people abandon stereotypes when they decide they want to, not because some girl with hot pink hair held the door for them at the mall. These hopeless jackasses might have the same idea. However, when, if ever, they grow up and realize that they’re never going to change people’s opinions, that neck dicky isn’t going away. Nor is it going away when they’re ignored in the fight for jobs in favor of others who don’t look like sideshow escapees. Nor is it going away when they’re shunned by potential mates who don’t want to be married to wild junkies and outlaws, even if they’re only so in appearance. Good luck, neck dicky. When even a tattoo artist thinks your look is a grave mistake, you know your future is dismal.
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A stellar write-up, my hot potato.
There’s a lot of fine skin for decorative lamp shakes. That is all.
Well played, Scrotato, and well pwned. You hit the spot with this scum.
Awe-fuccen-some Mr. Scrotato. Well done sir! We have another new term to add to the lexicon here. Ink dicky. It will always make me giggle and full out drive me to contortions if I ever actually see one in public.
Scrotato’s opening line really sets the tone about DB all sharing “unoriginal” as a determining factor.
Gotta back up Medusa – I have a few cool tats, they can be hidden, and as a jaded artiste, I feel they do add to stage presence.
Ink Dicky and friend (and those Medusa displayed) are the opposite – and they rightfully deserve the mock. They are the ones dying to be noticed – and that is also something all DBs share, regardless of bracket.
This guy however, never needed ink for stage presence. 😉
Check out live Bowie from the early 70’s on TV.
. . . remove-my-eyes-with-a-rusty-urine-coated-melon baller.
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I may never stop laughing.
Well spoken and properly aimed.
Mr. SH, truer words–now where’s that melon baller?
Now the he has the well deserved award, all he needs is a penis tattooed to his forehead and he’d be set.
Better to be tattooed on the Adam’s apple than date-stamped “Expired” on the nuts, balls, gonies, whatever.