ADAPT OR MOVE ON

So, today started out rather shitty. Humid, drizzly, muggy, no movement of air - just plain shitty. On my way to school, I realized that I had a flat. Sweaty, hot and now a tad mad, I got a lift from my ever reliable and sweet girlfriend to a west end bicycle shop. While I was there I struck up a conversation with the flat tire specialist. He was intrigued by my tattoos, showed me his tribal inspired leg piece and asked me where I got mine from. He was pleasant and not overbearing and annoying like a lot of people are when it comes to tattoos and their questions. "Where did you get 'em? What do they mean? How many do you have, anyways? Do you regret getting them, because you know they're permanent, right? Yeah I do. Thanks for asking. The typical questions I always get and ultimately try to avoid. Yes, I know that I have visible tattoos, therefore am open to interrogation from strangers, but... still. I'll get to my point in a bit. I then drove my newly repaired, tuned and tightened woman's cruiser home for some lunch. As I did the dishes and re-heated a three day old surprise, I turned the radio on to Mr. All Sports Radio Show Host, who was gabbing uncontrollably and incoherently about something. Then I paid attention, and realized that he was bashing those with tattoos, referring to them (I guess I mean us) as lower class freaks who defile their bodies and even went on to say that he roots for teams (especially basketball) that have the least amount of tattoos. "Why am I forced to look at them?" the sports jockey asked. Okay, so you don't like tattoos (and piercings as he pointed out later). Good for you. But, first of all, you don't have to look at them. No one is forcing you to watch this years extremely entertaining and dramatic play-off basketball - it's your choice. Just as it's someones choice to be fat, and show it off by wearing ill-fitting clothes (I don't necessarily buy the 'fat gene' theory - I think it's called a lack of desire and laziness). And please Mr. Dick Jockey, don't forget about all the other, every day stuff that we're forced to look at. Like the extremely overweight (and obviously oblivious) person with their belly and ass hanging out all over the street. Don't need to see it. But I do, and that's life. I deal with it. I don't like it, but I deal with it. A disgusting bulge is no different than a noticeable tattoo. It's the personal choice of the person and everybody else has to deal with it. That's how it goes. Obnoxiously loud and rude people who complain about everything. Deal with it. Smokers cough and self-inflicted injuries. Gross and unpleasant sounding and looking, but a part of life. Deal with it or shut up. I don't like seeing a pregnant teenager pushing a double stroller. But I do. And I deal with it. What I'm saying is that tattoos are becoming such a regular sight in everyday society that, for someone to be as ignorant and self-righteous to say that they belong in circus side shows is just plain dumb. Let me ask you a question Mr. Flappin' his gums for the sake of Flappin' - Do you hate your wife and avoid looking at her because of her pierced ears, or growing gunt or whatever else is going on? Filter your arguments a little, so they make sense - and don't make you sound like a supreme idiot. Humans are the worlds greatest adapters, so adapt and move on. You might be a happier and healthier person for it - while not alienating yourself from people based on personal decisions and taste.