Tatoo's

I love Tattoo's. On other people. The cheerleader who gets a dolphin on her foot or ankle. Yuk. The good girl who's trying to be a little bad and gets one behind her ear and has to live up to her commitment. Her commitment to her tatoo. She starts smoking. Lots of things. Buys a Harley and wears leather. Wears her hair in a pony tail or spike just so that the little angel she carved right behind her ear on her neck gets seen. Or how about the guy who gets a tatoo on the back of his calf. He's wearing shorts in the winter time or he moves to LA where he can wear shorts all the time. A Tatt is a big commitment. Its not like back in the Sailor on the high seas days, pulling into the Philippine port and having a seedy little red light district tatt forged on your forearm. Tatts are sophisticated these days. Girly Girls have em. Girly men have em. Tattoo parlors dominate the urabanscapes of many industrially depressed American cities. Our commitment to tatoos has become obsessive. If you don't have one you are weird. If you are a man and you have one it is an instant girlfriend.



What do they have to do with the Voice that Spoke Mountains? I just don't think He is the voice that spoke tatoos. I thought about getting a tatt so many times. I'd look like a little bad boy I thought while thinking about the Jesus Tatt I would have placed on the back of my neck. Get His name carved in Hebrew. It would be interesting and ZEN. Freak. Ok no Tatt for me. But if you want one that's your thing. I have His name written on my heart. Tatoo'd.