On my Forbes blog, I did a fun roundup of the year in vice. For some reason, Memphis was a standout for me. Was it the fried chicken, the strip club money wars, the faded grandeur of Graceland? Looking back, it's hard to say, but sometimes you find joy in unlikely places, and in this case that was Bluff City.
Filtering by Tag: TATTOOS
Well, drug tattoos, that is. I spent way too much time searching Instagram for drug tattoos to create what I think is actually a pretty cool post for my Forbes blog, which should've been titled: "Instagram Your Drug Tattoo And Everyone Will Heart You." Or what have you. Do you know how goddamn hard it is to get good results for #cracktattoo? You're looking for someone who's posted a shot of their crack-inspired tattoo, and you end up looking at people's ass cracks with tattoos in them or on them. Also: #coketattoo. You think it is easy, but it is not. Do you know how many idiots have Coke the soda tattooed on them? Way too many. Also: People, get more XTC tattoos. Or at least let me know what hashtag to search so I can find them. There was also this insanely interesting one that had to do with like heroin and a pregnant woman combined in a tattoo -- or something??? -- and I saw it once, but I couldn't find it again. What I think ended up being the most interesting part were the sobriety tattoos. They were powerful, and I like how they had a function: to remind their owners not to go down the road again. Kudos. Oh, one more thing: Where the hell are all the flakka tattoos? Man. All I got was Waka Flocka Flame.
Buy THE TUMOR! "This is one of the weirdest, smartest, most disturbing things you will read this year."
Porn star Stoya has a blog: Graphic Descriptions.
Here, in Paris, she shows off her new tattoo:
"Jessa tattooed me; 'Negative Impact on Public Health,' quoted from the 9th circuit’s decision to uphold Measure B. The catalyst for both my politics and my writing, under my skin.
I think it’s important to remember—how I felt reading that ruling, that to parts of the world I and all sex workers will always be reduced to inhuman vectors of disease and societal ill."
After she left me, I went in the garage and gathered together a series of spare parts: a broken muffler, the faded keys of a vintage typewriter, a rag dipped in motor oil. For years, I worked on the machine, adding and subtracting items, dumpster diving to make ends meet. I had no time for a job. A decade passed. One day, I finished. That afternoon, I presented it to her: a device that embedded my words on her body like some kind of spoken tattoo. She tinkered with it for hours, adjusting the lettering, bleeding out around the sentences.
Time: 13 minutes
Word count: 100 words
From Trent Wolbe's "Is It Real, or Is It 'GTA V'? A Trippy Travelogue on the Streets of Los Santos":
"Tracey’s misguided quest for fame finds her at the beck and call of yet another ponytailed douchebag, a Seacrestian talent show host called Lazlow. After a blackmail mission fails to keep the star-making predator away from his daughter, Michael turns to the tattoo parlor to create a more indelible impression — Rockstar raises the bar in the 'fulfilling disgusting ambitions of teenage males' game by allowing the player to tattoo a giant cock and balls on an enemy’s back."