I know “tattoo guy” doesn’t mean what it used to. There was a time when that meant you were a sailor, a biker, or had done time. I’m none of those guys; I never even had a rockabilly phase. But even now when “tattoo guy” includes cool chefs, music fans, and people that want a lifetime supply of Domino’s Pizza, I don’t really think of myself as one. I only have two tattoos and I got my first one at age 35. I skipped the regrettable ink at 18, and just got one of Spuds MacKenzie in middle age. I love tattoo guys, I don’t want to be a poser. I’m not talking about tattoos from an expert’s POV, but I thought I could explore why I have them and why I like them. I know I am not tough or cool or ever going to get free Domino’s, so please don’t be mad at me.

For a lot of people a tattoo is a deeply personal, nearly sacred act of absorbing art, poetry, and meaning into your physical self. Which is cool. For me, it’s kind of like that, but in another way it’s about having a dumb thing on my arm.

Humans have these bodies, they’re OK, but they’re likely not what we’d pick if we had create-a-player powers. Personally, I’m a little chubby, going bald, and short. There are things within my power to modify in the margins like going to the gym (which I like!) or using hair regrowth formulas (I tried it once 10 years ago and was humiliated by the process) and in regards to my height, I have started drinking Coronitas so I look huge in comparison. You accept the things you can’t change, and sometimes learn to love them.

Then there are the things you can, or are willing to, change. That’s different for everyone, but for me it amounts mostly to t-shirts and tattoos. Anecdotally there’s a lot of dudes in my demographic for whom this is also the case. I’m willing to let the average passerby know I like Devo with a t- shirt, but I’m probably unwilling to bare my soul beyond that for my first impression. I’m absolutely not trying to stand out, which may seem weird as I am now getting dumb tattoos.

I am a big fan of highlighting dumb things. I understand the importance and often the need to be serious. The world is serious, consequences are real and stakes are high. I also think that we are living in a time of being overwhelmed by an abundance of information. It’s hard to pin down an accurate percentage but it feels like I know about literally every single bad thing that happens every day. It’s awfully privileged to complain about too much information, but it can be taxing for a sensitive lil bald chubby fella like me. Looking for the silly bullshit is often a great way to improve my mental state.

I don’t think it’s productive to judge people for being too serious; we all do what we need to do to get by. The bummer is that some people don’t reciprocate this feeling for those trying to lighten the mood. I am a performer and writer and have been for around 12 years or so. I know what I like and have developed my taste and style slowly over that span. I know what I do is not for everyone and I certainly don’t begrudge people thinking what I do is dumb, it’s dumb on purpose. I do think there is a misunderstanding when audiences don’t understand that I know I’m being dumb. I try to do what I can to set the parameters and expectations for my work, for example, I am half of a sketch group called Butt. I just need you to know that I am aware that is stupid. I think the comedy world has in a lot of ways gotten more serious in the last few years. Which is fine, and even expected given the circumstances, but if I can help it I’m trying to push the Overton window a little farther towards dumbass stuff in my own small way. Not only is it all I know, I also think it is a valuable perspective that is underrepresented (shout out to Barb & Star and I Think You Should Leave for being expertly done dumbass comedy this last year).

Anyway, that brings me to my new tattoo, Peggy Hill in a Kansas City Chiefs jacket holding a Chiefs pennant. On January 12, 2020 my preferred American football team the Kansas City Chiefs faced off against the Houston Texans. I watched a solid quarter and change of football pacing at my friend Kyle’s home. The Texans were handing my Chiefs their buns, and the lopsided stretch ended with Houston up 24-0 and it looked dire. As a superstitious Hail Mary promise with the universe Kyle tweeted this:

I’m not sure what I was thinking in this moment. As a Chiefs fan at this time (pre Super Bowl win) it may have been, “Here we go again, another brutal loss when, and because, you were at your most confident.” Who knows if this Tweet is the magic that turned the tide, but here I sit in the future, smiling at my Peggy as she slowly scabs over. I got it because I love King of the Hill, we were playing a Texas team, it all seemed to fit in a loose kinda dumb way. It’s not the dumbest tattoo in the world, but it’s certainly not serious. The circumstances for getting it were dumb, loving football is kinda dumb, even Peggy Hill the character is defined by being a little dumb.

Dumb is different for everyone and I like to think I have put in a lot of thought to define my version of it, down to the subtleties of Peggy’s excitement level (my tattoo artist Emily Effler totally nailed it). It’s rarely viewed this way, but being an idiot is a craft that’s destined, if not designed, to be overlooked and misunderstood. The point is that you turn off your brain for a moment. I even feel weird writing this right now for fear that I’m dissecting the comedy frog. But I felt the communal reinforcement of this misunderstanding of “dumb” when Biz Markie recently passed away. A man who made his career off of what I consider “smart dumb” was mostly memorialized as the goof that sang off-key and rapped about boogers. A dude that brought more of those delirious sleep-deprived, slumber party laughs to the world than most could ever hope to, was often talked about like he did that shit by accident. Maybe that’s the fate of cracking the smart dumb code.

So while things might feel grim basically every day, I don’t look at my dumb tattoos as a nihilistic submission to a stupid and cruel world. I think of marking my body up with fun bullshit as a way to make myself and others happy. A celebration of adaptability to a stupid and cruel world. You’re living through it, you might as well try and get a good dumbass laugh when you can.

Feature photo by Emily Effler

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