It all started in a tattoo parlor in Portland Oregon, a city known for branding its citizens at an alarming rate. It was supposed to be ‘just another tattoo’, one of many hundreds inked onto pallid, fleshy skin that day, in what could be one of the most liberal bohemian neighborhoods. Flaming skulls, Chinese letters that are incomprehensible to the owner, and lotuses and orchids blot over pink-white pigment in every corner of this inked oasis.
“I wanted to get something that was really, you know, me.” Said Portland man, who already sports tattoos over 30% of his body, and is virtually indistinguishable from his peers. He is now suing the tattoo parlor for mental damages. “Yah, I asked for it. But I didn’t know how weird it would look. And I was a little baked.”
The parlor owner fully admits to accepting money for “Paradise Lost passages done in Wingdings.” And claims that the customer seemed fully aware of what he was buying into. “He said he was stoked about it. He thought this would finally put his tat’s over the top, so he could get a job at Powell’s Books.” – Powell’s being a notable haven for those suffering from Inky-Hipster syndrome.