Tattoos & Harleys

A colleague of mine is married to a Marine. As he has been retired from the Corps for some years past, it might be objected that he is an "ex-Marine." To tell the complete truth, I don't know how many Marines you've met, but personally I've never met an "ex" Marine. It is not entirely clear to me what one would look like.

But to return to our story: Not only is this fellow a Marine, but a pilot. And not only a pilot, but a fighter pilot. And one more fact is necessary: He is, well, how shall we put this delicately? He is becoming older. Like the Gentleman Farmer, when the President promised that Social Security would not be reduced for those born before 1950, our Marine was content. Do we understand each other? Good. Let us move on.

When the Gentleman Farmer passed the semicentennial anniversary of his birth, he thought it appropriate to reward himself with a pickup truck. A Ford. Blue. Used.

But your humble correspondent is, of course, a Gentleman, and a Farmer, while the subject of our story is neither: He is a Marine, and a fighter pilot.

As a consequence, we have learned, he has recently rewarded himself, like the Gentleman Farmer, with a conveyance. But, being both a Marine and a fighter pilot, not just any conveyance would serve. He has purchased this:

.

A Harley-Davidson, Dyna / FXR : FXDXT Dyna T-Sport, Centennial 2003.

You ask, of course (and properly so) if our Marine is content. Surely, you infer, in addition to his Harley, he has acquired the associated apparel and accessories, has he not? Your correspondent understands that he has. Indeed, it is reported that his buzzing about the neighborhood, black helmeted, has frightened the horses, as we used to say. But he is not content, because his alternate persona is not complete: He is, alas, without tattoos.

Let a humble farmer be of assistance. While I am without knowledge of the ins and outs of tattoo parlors, I am aware of a solution to the problem. This can be YOU:


While you may THINK this illustrates a fellow who has submitted to hours of painful and expensive ministrations from an extremely fat woman with an electric needle, you are wrong. Instead, the fellow is wearing a slip-on sleeve, which merely SIMULATES gross personal disfigurement. Other patterns are available, [HERE].

We must warn, however, that we are unable to predict the entire effect this ruse may have if it is discovered to be a sham by a large group of outlaw bikers, far from frequented thoroughfares.

But, of course, your correspondent is a Gentleman Farmer, and neither a Marine, nor a fighter pilot.

Semper Fi!