Smurfish
Emulating the Smurfs and wearing an oversized sock on your head does seem pretty small beer next to the seven pounds of ironmongery adorning a young woman's otherwise pretty face I saw recently, or the slew of tattoo-fetishists from Generation Zed who will be figuring out which laser specialist to enrich a few years down the road. But who am I to talk?
I just need to check out some photos from the 1970s to humble up, and I wasn't even into disco! Truly, there is no accounting for tastelessness. It does puzzle me, however, that many young men wear baseball hats canted at strange angles. Do they think it makes them look gangsta and sinister, or did they just lose the instructions?
The French have this great word: déclassé. It prevents certain freedoms of self-expression - like a reluctance to wear pants - from disturbing court-rooms, boardrooms and churches across the globe. Levity aside, I recall a surreal conversation with a tattooed, pierced young per-son who defended her right to self-expression by saying it made her an individual and that everyone else was doing it, in the same breath. Besides, this stuff's been done before and to far more esthetic effect. Check out Malcolm Kirk's superb study on New Guinea tribesmen, Man as Art, and a rebuttal to Connor Got-tfried's essay can succinctly be put as: "Meh."
Los Angeles County Sheriff's homicide investigator Kevin Lloyd was looking through pictures of tattooed gang members in 2008 when he noticed what appeared to be the murder scene inked across gangster Anthony Garcia's chest, according to the newspaper.
On her left hand I spot the famous tattoo often cited as evidence of her wildness: it's a lakesh, comprising two interlocking crosses, which she had done in her 20s when she was drunk. It looks blurred and muddy-green. She has variously claimed she