Inexplicable Human-Chair Fusion

Today, we have another one of those stories that simply doesn't have any splick. It is, in a word, inexplicable. There's really no other way to describe an incredibly obese man who has sat in the same chair for so long (two years as a matter of fact) that the fabric of said chair had fused to his skin. And even though that is inexplicable, I have another aspect of the story that is even MORE inexplicable. The above mentioned individual had a girlfriend.

Let's go to Channel 7 in Ohio, WTRF, for the facts of this story. (Warning: I know that I made this sound bad with my little introduction above. Trust me. It gets a heck of a lot worse. Consider yourself sufficiently warned.) We have an obese man. Now, the exact weight is not provided for some reason (probably because the media sucks), but let's just say that it had to have been sufficient enough for him to have enough difficulty getting out of his chair that he just decided it would be easier to simply stay put. And considering that this chair did not have proper plumbing facilities, that must have been one hell of a decision to have to make, if you catch my drift.

One of the remarkable aspects of this story (but not more remarkable than someone being fused to a piece of furniture because it's going to be super hard to top that) that needs to be mentioned right now is that "...two other able-bodied people lived there---another man, who had a separate bedroom, and the girlfriend of the man who was stuck in the chair. Officials say the girlfriend served food to him, since he never got up." How...how does that happen? How do you live in a house with a guy who never gets out of his chair...for anything?! Bodily functions did occur! It's not like they're going to stop just because you're too fat to get up anymore. Two years. Keep that in mind. Two years of sitting in two years of your own filth. I think I'm going to hurl. (And just because that imagine wasn't enough, I'm going to mention that "...he was sitting in his own feces and urine and maggots were visible." Oh, God. Now I know I'm going to hurl.)

But it wasn't just that he lived with two able-bodied people that disturbs me. See, it appears that there had been visitors to the home during this two year period of never leaving the chair. "...the landlord says the man in the chair rented from her before and used to be a vital active person." Obviously, the key words in that phrase are "used to be". (The non-key words in that statement are everything else she said. Oh, what's that? He wasn't always fused to a chair? You don't say! Moron.) But it goes on to say that "...she checked on them periodically but lately he always sat with a blanket over him. She says she had no idea it had come to this." She what? And he what? Wait a minute.

Wouldn't the stench from an obese man who had been sitting in his own filth for the past two years simply be overwhelming?! She didn't notice the strong smell of poo emitting from this man?! I'm assuming that it wasn't a magic blanket that he would drape over himself when she came over. Now that I think about it, where would they find a blanket big enough to cover him, the chair and all of the maggots? (God, just typing that makes me gag.) Is there a Snuggie that big? Regardless as to where they shopped, I still don't understand how you wouldn't just be knocked off of your feet by the smell if you were in that house. I kind of don't understand how you wouldn't just be knocked off of your feet by the smell if you were in the vicinity of that house. Two years of fecal matter and urine is a lot of fecal matter and urine. The smell must have been unimaginable. Stinky, but unimaginably stinky.

How does this man have a girlfriend? More importantly, how is this woman's boyfriend the man who is so fat that he hasn't left his chair for two freaking years?! What are her standards?! I mean, obviously they're QUITE low. But seriously? You're dating So-Fat-He's-Stuck-To-His-Chair Guy? Really? I guess taking him to family functions wasn't all that important to you, eh? The more I ponder this, the more depressed I get. A morbidly obese man who has been sitting in his own urine and feces for two years has a girlfriend, yet I, an amazingly mobile woman who has never been fused to a chair, is single. What the what is that about?

I saw this story a couple of days ago and I am saddened, but not surprised, to report that the man who was fused to his chair and sitting in his own waste for two years with a multitude of maggots has died. Is anyone really surprised? I can't say that I am. And I also can't say that he might be better off this way. His quality of life before he was removed from his chair certainly wasn't anything that anyone would strive for. And while I tend to take a rather libertarian approach to these sorts of situations, I'm going to have to say that I'm appalled that the people living with this man didn't take some sort of action before it got to this point. I mean, if you want to eat yourself into oblivion and become incredibly fat, that's your choice. I'm not going to intervene with that one. But I think that at the point where human flesh becomes fused to a piece of furniture, you're under some sort of obligation to do something like make a phone call. And if the person stuck to the chair doesn't like it, they can just unfuse themselves and do something about it. Oh, what's that? They can't move? Because of all of the fusing? Yeah, OK then. Keep dialing.

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A True Fan

There are an awful lot of different kinds of strange out there. And I'm not trying to imply that strange is bad. It is what it is...strange. But don't get me wrong, it's not like all strange is OK. It's not. That's why it's called strange. Look, I'm clearly leading up to something here, so what say I just cut to the chase, all right? OK, then. What we have today is a man who has an incredible fondness for a one Julia Roberts. I know. What's not to love? Well, if I had to choose, I'd say that it would be the manner in which this man expresses his affection for the actress is what is not to love. Behold!

Oh, what the hell is that?! That, my friends, is a one Miljenko Parserisas Bukovic. (You may pronounce that any way that you'd like.) From the good folks at The Daily Mail, we learn that Mr. Bukovic is a newspaper vendor from Valparaiso, Chile. We also learn that he became enamored with the lovely Ms. Roberts after seeing her in Erin Brokovich, for which she won an Oscar. It was a really good movie and she was really good in it, but I don't know that I have ever seen anything so good by anyone act so good that it made me want to go out and get 82 tattoos of the person who did all of the acting. And that's just one of the many, many ways in which Mr. Bukovic and I are different.

This 52-year old man has tattoos of Julia Roberts as Erin Brockovich all over his torso and arms. And let me tell you, it's a good thing that someone told me that the tattoos were supposed to be Julia Roberts, as I would not have guessed that. Ever. I've spent a fair amount of time (3-4 minutes tops) looking at the same pictures I've included here and I have yet to see one image that really stands out as being undeniably Julia Roberts. Not one. There is at least one that maybe could be her, but I would have had to have been drinking for quite some time in order to agree to that.

Below is a picture of the lovely Miss Roberts as she appeared in a scene in Erin Brockovich. After you're done ogling her lovely breasts, please let me know if you can find any of his tattoos that even come close to looking like this. (Being 'vaguely female in appearance' does not count.)

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South Carolina, What Are You Doing?!

What is going on over there with the voting populous of South Carolina? Seriously. The guy that they elected to be the Democratic candidate for the Senate seems to be only vaguely aware of what is going on around him. Not to mention that he didn't mount any sort of campaign what so ever and still managed to win with sixty, yes sixty, percent of the vote! How is that possible?! South Carolina voters, how low is your bar, exactly? Well, if Alvin Greene is any indication, there might not even be a bar.

Meet Alvin Greene. He won the primary election in South Carolina on Tuesday with sixty percent of the vote to become the Democratic candidate for one of South Carolina's Senate seats. How he won is still in question. He's unemployed (though he was honorably discharged (though not voluntarily) from the military nine months ago and lives with his parents) and has no previous political experience. I'm fine with the no political experience. Sometimes, I think I would prefer that candidates don't have any political experience. But I would prefer that they appear to have the capability to form complete sentences. Oh, and to not stare blankly after being asked a really simple question by Keith Olbermann, too.

Alvin Greene claims to have had no donations. He claims that the $10,400 that he had to pony up in order to be on the ballot was his own money. Now, I'm not saying that it isn't. I am saying that I find how incredulous the media is toward the notion that it was his own money. They act like because he is unemployed, he should have no money at all. Never mind the fact that he was in the military for about 13 years. If he was living with his parents the entire time, he could have saved quite a bit of money. Even if he hadn't been living with his parents, it's not like people can't save money or anything like that. Granted, I do find it a little odd for an unemployed guy to spend ten grand just to be on a ballot, but I don't think it's as strange as the media is portraying it to be.

Speaking of things that are strange, from what everyone can tell, this guy didn't even do anything on his "campaign". I have that in quotes because I'm not so certain that if you don't actually go out and campaign (as a verb) that you have a campaign (as a noun). I'm not running for anything, but if I don't do anything and I win, does that mean that I've run a successful campaign. I don't think that it does! I really don't.

What I find more strange is that this guy seems to be of a limited intelligence quotient. He seems vaguely aware of what he is doing. He's one step away from the freaking Senate. He sure doesn't act like it. Then again, he also doesn't really act like he knows what year it is. Let's take a look at some of the dialogue between him and the abhorrent Mr. Olbermann. Keep in mind that Mr. Greene's responses to the questions are always followed by a pause of about 5 to 7 seconds. I don't know why. It could be a tape delay thing. It could be a low mental processing speed. I'm just saying. Oh, and let me just warn you. This guy is not one of our nation's most gifted speakers.

Olbermann: What was your campaign like? Did you hold a lot of meetings?

Greene: Say that again.

Olbermann: What...was...your...campaign...like? Did you have a lot of campaign meetings?

Greene: I have just a few meetings. Not many.

Olbermann: Did you have campaign rallies?

Looking awfully perplexed Greene: Nothing...formal. Just...informal rallies. (What in the world is an "informal rally"?!) Informal meetings...rather.

Olbermann: Did you go door to door to meet the voters? How did they find out who you were?

Looking like Olbermann is speaking Chinese Greene: I just conducted a...simple...old-fashioned campaign. You know. All...all across the state of South Carolina.

Olbermann: Did you have campaign advertising of any kind?

Pondering the question Greene: I had...campaign literature. Yes, I did.

Olbermann: Many...

Not quite done Greene: I had campaign literature.

Trying to finish the question Olbermann: Many first time politicians get surprised by how much fundraising they have to do...How much fund raising did you do?

Really confused Greene: Not much....I raised...I used my own funds up to this point...in the primary...and...up until right now....and.... (Then his voice just trails off and he look blankly ahead. I guess that's how we know that he's done.)

Olbermann: Um, how do you think the people who voted for you on Tuesday knew who you were or even that you were running?

Still staring ahead Greene: I think...that...you know, I think that they....saw...I think that they...no, I just think that they recognized...they heard of my name...when I was campaigning...across the state...you know to pass the word on. Just by word of mouth! (Eureka! A complete sentence!) But I just got the word around. (Judging from this interview, I find it difficult to believe that he could get the word around. He can barely get a word out of his mouth.) You know. I had sixty percent of the vote....I had sixty percent of the vote. Sixty percent of the vote is not luck. (I'll agree with him with that. It's not luck. It might not be legitimate, but it most certainly is not luck.) You know...that's a decisive wins. (Yes. He said "wins". That's a decisive wins. Good Lord...) Sixty per....(And then he just stops and starts nodding! That's twice that he's done that. I guess it's his "thing" or something.)

There's more, but I'm going to stop here. You get the point, right? The guy seems dumber than a box of hair, that is correct.

Now, some people are claiming that Mr. Greene is a "plant" by the Republican party. That theory would have more weight if it weren't for some glaring problems. Problem one is that the guy is far from the brightest bulb on the tree. (And while he could still be a "plant", houseplant would be more like it.) Problem two is that "plant" or not, he still won with sixty percent of the vote and from what I can tell, no one has ever heard of the guy because he didn't even go out and campaign. You can plant whoever you want into whatever race you want, but if it's an election, people still have to vote for him. So that doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me. Then again, none of this does. It does seem to have the air about it of something not being just quite right. Can you ask for an investigation based solely on the impression that the guy who won couldn't find his ass with both hands if you spotted him the left one? I don't know if you can or not, but it might be a good idea. It might also be a good idea to go out there and find folks who voted for this guy and ask them what in the world they were thinking. No, wait. Show them some of the interviews of this guy and then ask them what they were thinking. I have the feeling it would be highly entertaining!

The video of Mr. Greene and Mr. Olbermann is supposed to be below. If it doesn't show, you can try watching it here. At that same link, you can watch a different interview with something called The Root. I'm not saying that you're going to learn much more by watching that interview or anything, but I am saying that you'll see that Mr. Greene's demeanor with Mr. Olbermann was not because he was having a bad day or anything. That's how the guy seems to come across with everything. Perplexed. And in a race for a seat in the United States Senate. What could possibly go wrong?

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

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WTF Monday - Tattoo Edition

If you're, say....eight years old, you're going to think that just about anything would make a cool tattoo. Doesn't matter what it is, as long as it isn't a picture of one of your siblings, it would be cool. It could be a tattoo of a worm, multiplication tables, the family goldfish, any of those would be cool and do you know why? Because you're eight, that's why! Fortunately, for reasons just described, you can't get a tattoo when you're eight. I'm assuming you'd have to have parental permission for that to happen. Now all we have to do is to hope that some of the individuals pictured below have not yet procreated because just from looking at the tattoos that they chose to get, one can tell that good judgment is not exactly their strong suit.

I'll start with the always perplexing facial tattoo. And I mean facial! I'm not just talking about one of those stupid teardrops or permanent eyeliner (good Lord...) or anything like that. I'm talking about the facial tattoo, as in the whole face. Behold!

This is the sort of tattoo that is not only frightening, but also just steeped in irony. This man appears to be the walking propaganda machine for the Oakland Raiders. It even says "PROPERTY OF RAIDERS" there across his face and the bridge of his nose. Reading downward on his cheeks it says "COMMITMENT TO EXCELLENCE", with the "TO" being on his chin. You might not be able to see where his eyebrows are supposed to be that it says "Looks are deceiving". In this case, I don't think that they are! Not at all! I don't feel the least bit deceived. I have a pretty good idea of just what kind of a person you are, sir. I think I find the "COMMITMENT TO EXCELLENCE" so darned funny because since 2002, the Oakland Raiders are the losingest team in the NFL. See, my idea of "excellence" involves winning! Their record is so abhorrent that it's entirely possible they could go the entire upcoming season without winning a single game!

But really, I think it's the bullet holes on his forehead that really make the whole thing just pop! Just a teeny splash of color, something a little different, a nice touch. Or something. If he was going for variety, well, that's commendable, but might I recommend something other than tattooing what seems like every number that there is on his head as well. We get it. There are a lot of Raiders players that wore a lot of different numbers. We get it. But it gets to a certain point, and this gentleman is far past that point, where the part about the jersey number gets lost and it just looks like numbers. But hey, he can do what he wants. He's not my property! It says so! Right there on his face.

Now here we have a wom...we have a ma....well....here we have someone who is sporting a yin-yang tattoo. The yin and the yang....a little bit of this in with a whole lot of that....it's all supposed to balance out or something. And how appropriate that the, um, person sporting this tattoo seems to have a little bit of this and a little bit of that all entwined into one...um....human being! (Actually, I think that this he/she person is channeling David Lee Roth.)

People also like to express themselves via the tattoo medium with a variety of words. I'm thinking that some of these folks might want to start off with a tattoo of a freaking dictionary. From the folks over at failblog.org we this this meaty individual sporting some sort of a happy reaper-esque figure that appears to be headed for the middle east with that head covering there. Since the proportions seem to be off, it's hard to tell if the figure is reaching out or if the figure is reaching, um, downward. Judging from the girth of the individual and also from the content of the tattoo itself, not to mention the unfortunate spelling in the title "YOUR MINE", I think that we can safely conclude that it's downward. I wonder how many days in a row he had to leave his parent's basement in order to get the tattoo done.

Again, she should have started with a tattoo of a dictionary. Perhaps a picture dictionary, just to get the ball rolling. Now she opted for the difficult to read upon first glance script for the lettering, so hopefully most folks won't catch that it reads "BEAUTIFUL TRADGEDY". Oh, it's a tragedy all right, but certainly not a very beautiful one.

This gent here, ironically enough, has the word "HUNGRY" tattooed across an area which would seem to indicate that he is not "HUNGRY" very often. Look, if you're going to do something all artsy like this, at least pick better images to do it with. This is just a mess. He's got a carrot and an ear of corn for the "H". Ooohhh! Manly! Then more vegetables for the "U". He has candy canes and one of those peppermint things that your grandmother always had in her purse. And then for the "G" he opted to go with salt and pepper shakers hovering over a big bowl of...what is that? Is that a penis? That can't be right! A bowl of penis?! UN-seasoned penis?! I don't think that's right at all. Why would he have a penis in a bowl tattooed on his stomach? You know what? Forget I mentioned it. This is a little weird. (Seriously, dude. WTF?) Oh, and a side note: The hologram belt buckle? Nice touch.

Jesus, I don't even know where to start with this one. There appears to be a pretty heavy Star Wars theme going on here. But then there is so much other stuff interspersed with it all that it's really hard to tell where it starts and where it ends. We have "COURTNEY" spelled out in baby blocks, which is really an odd choice for lettering that's hanging over an exploding Death Star, but whatever. Then two hands which are clearly not the same size. I'm not sure if they belong to the same individual or if there is some sort of patriotic amputees in outer space organization that this person belongs to or what, but it's strange. Not to mention the ankh in the middle of them. What's that all about? But here's where it starts to get weird. At the bottom, it was as if the tattoo artist had asked her, "What are three words that you would say describe yourself?" And it was as if she answered, "Daughter. Country. Star Wars." Then they were just jotted onto the bottom there so that she wouldn't forget. (By the way, when there is nothing else in the design that has a camouflage pattern to it, making the word "COUNTRY" camouflaged really doesn't hide it from anyone! We all see it! It's right there!)

At least with the ones above you can almost get an idea of what they were thinking when they decided to "enhance" their bodies with a permanent tattoo. Some of these below however? No clue. None. Bets. Maybe they all lost a bet. I don't know, but they are mind boggling.

Take this unsavory looking character with a Hello Kitty head in the middle of his forehead. Behold!

See? Inexplicable. All I know is that if this guy hadn't ever had sex before the Hello Kitty head was inked into his forehead, he probably shouldn't be planning on ever having sex from this point on. It's just not going to happen. (Are those the Pac-Man characters on his neck?! I think they are!) Seriously. No chick is ever going to sleep with this guy. It's not like his chances seemed all that good BEFORE the Hello Kitty addition anyway. But I'm just sayin', his chances are completely shot now!

Here's a tattoo that gives information that other might have previously not had. For example, did YOU know that Chewbacca was Italian? ME neither! How do you suppose this guy knew?! You'd think I would have caught that in at least ONE of the movies!

But here's where things start to get really strange. I can't imagine for the life of me what the story is behind this tattoo, but if you have any clue, please let me know. It's things like this that keep me up at night. Behold!

Maybe the guy is the heir to Office Depot? Maybe the first time he got laid he did it in a leather office chair? I don't know. I can't even begin to guess (anymore). It's just so odd. Well...it was really odd. Until I saw....this: Behold!

Um.....WTF is that? Is that the outline of one of those plastic lawn chairs? Wow. I was wrong. It's stuff like this that keeps me up at night.

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A Rollercoaster Relationship

I kind of thought that I'd already discussed how just because you want something to be a certain way, it doesn't mean that that's the way it is. You can say it's that way, but it still doesn't change the fact that it really is NOT the way that you're convincing yourself that it is. Sorry. Hey, I didn't MAKE the rule! I'm just the messenger, so back off!


Case in point here would be a one Amy Wolfe, a 33-year old who we are assuming is a woman from Pennsylvania. Miss Wolfe will be getting married sometime in the near future, I'm assuming. Her significant other is about 80 miles away from where she currently lives, but she still manages to visit about ten times a year and keeps the spark alive with a picture of her soul mate taped to her bedroom ceiling (handy). The object of her affection goes by the name 1001 Nachts. That's right. 1001 Nachts. (By the way, not that it has anything at all to do with this little tale, but 'nachts' is German for 'nights'. Now you know. Carry on.)

And while 1001 Nachts might sound like a strange name, this is a situation in which the name is perfectly acceptable. However, I just want to make it clear that it is only the NAME which is perfectly acceptable. NOT the fact that 1001 Nachts is a carnival ride OR that Miss Wolfe plans to MARRY it. Er, him. Wait. What???


Correct. It's a carnival ride. Also known as The Gondola or That Swingy Boat Lookin' Thing. She loves it. I mean LOVES it. OH, yeah? Why doesn't she MARRY it? (You know, that's probably how this whole thing got started.) Well, she thinks she's going to. And as I alluded to previously, she can THINK that all she wants, but that doesn't mean that she's going to be married to a freaking carnival ride.


Miss Wolfe was just 13 when her attraction to 1001 Nachts began forming. And while 13 is quite young, I think it's plenty old enough to know that you've got some other issues at work here if you're falling in love with a) a carnival ride, and/or b) anyone or anything whose name begins with a number. People who experience this sort of intense emotional connection to something which doesn't breathe are said to have a rare condition called 'objectum sexuality' where people develop attractions to objects. Hence the term. It does seem clear that she is and was aware that most people do not fall in love with carnival rides of ANY kind and that most people would find the entire notion of one doing so to be slightly, um, strange. (Some folks might even say that it is freaking weird as hell. Some. Some may say that. Some may say other things, but some may say that. Almost NO ONE will say that it's normal. None.)


According to The Sun "I was instantly attracted to him sexually and mentally. I wasn't freaked out as it just felt so natural but I didn't tell anyone about it because I knew it wasn't 'normal' to have feelings for a fairground ride. While all my friends were going through their teens having crushes on boys, I was still thinking about 1001." And while all of that may be true, I'm not so sure that she would have been having the same boy crushes as her friends all did. I don't know. Call it a hunch. Behold!

Yeah. A hunch. AAANNNNNNNY-way, she's pretty adamant about her feelings. According to

The Telegraph, "I love him as much as women love their husbands and know we’ll be together forever." Wow. She might be surprised at how much, or in a lot of cases, how little "some women" love "their husbands" or the other way around. I take it she's never seen "Jon and Kate Plus 8". But aside from that, all of that knowing that they'll "be together forever" stuff? If this is the sort of thing you're into, I'd say that's a pretty good bet. It's not like he's going to up and LEAVE you or cheat on you or anything like that. (Then again, what, exactly, would cheating look like in this situation? You know what? Never mind. I have too much information trying to figure out what this looks like, let alone some other variable in the equation.)

She plays up this act by going through the "he's like a real person" motions, as evidenced by her revealing, "I tell him how much I've missed him and what I've been up to since my last visit. And I kiss the bits I can reach. The staff are really understanding." (The staff most likely think you're cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs and are afraid of what you'll do to them if they get in between you and ol' 1001 there, cupcake. I "understand" a person with a mental illness when I see one, too.) She also "...carries its spare nuts and bolts around to feel closer to it." Uh, hey. I don't know if that's such a good idea. I mean, what if 1001 NEEDS those "spare" nuts and bolts? You might end up feeling closer to a machine that is responsible for hurling scores of patrons to their deaths after malfunctioning due to missing nuts and bolts!


Look, there is clearly something else going on with this, uh, woman. Obviously. I mean, I like Guitar Hero. Dare I say that I LOVE Guitar Hero. (I also RULE at Guitar Hero. I had to throw that in. I almost NEVER get a chance to say that!) I am not going to MARRY Guitar Hero. As phallic as that little plastic guitar may be, I have ZERO desire to marry it (not to mention my ZERO desire for the phallic object itself).

Now, what else? Come on! You know you're dying to know! You know you want to ask! What about their, uh, their, um, their relationship in the biblical sense? Done! Wait. What was that? Done? Yep. Done. She explains, "I use photos of 1001 to help me in private. We could never have sex where he lives because it's public and it would be indecent." Oh, of course, because THAT would be WEIRD. And because "he" is a freaking machine made out of metal, weighing several thousand pounds and lacking a penile unit! Just as aside! I'm only sayin'!

"1001 makes me happier than any human ever could."

Oh, for cryin' out loud, there is just no talking to some people.

I know you will be shocked to learn that Miss Wolfe is currently unemployed. She is, however, seeking work within her trade as an organist, though, according to

The Telegraph, "...she faces discrimination from employers." What's that now? How could that be? How EXACTLY would potential employers be discriminatory towards her because of her fondness for fairground rides unless...she TOLD THEM?! HOW does THAT come up in a job interview to be a freaking organist?! ("So...when you're playing the organ, do you ever wish that carnival rides had their own organs? Just wondering. You seem like the type who might!") Let me guess...it came up the same way that this documentary that she participated in came up as well! Behold!

Click here

Oh.
My.

God.

Well, at least now we know what it is exactly that she finds so attractive about ol' 1001 Nachts. I believe her exact words were "I love him for the narrowness of his jibs, and the roundness of his counterweights." Yeah, someday I hope to find someone that I, too, can say that I love for the narrowness of the jibs, and the roundness of the counterweights. Maybe someday. :::sigh:::

And God bless those folks over there at Jezebel.com for having THAT available! Thank YOU!

Wow. So what have we learned here? PLENTY! We've learned that some people are in so much pain that they need to isolate themselves from becoming close to other human beings and do so via falling in love with inanimate objects which they later claim that they have consummated their relationships with. Other folks find this strange to say the absolute very least. Yeah, that about sums it all up! There might be more, but I"m still in a bit of awe after watching that video.

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Tat's Not a Good Idea

I wanted to see how many nutballs out there had Michael Jackson tattoos. Turns out, I had only THOUGHT I wanted to know that. It's probably information that I could have and should have done without. But far be it for me to suffer alone and that's why I'm graciously sharing all of my newly found (and instantly unwanted) knowledge with the masses. All nine of you.

First, I stopped by Tattoo Blog to see what they had to say about Michael Jackson tattoos, commemorative or not. They didn't have a lot to say, but they had plenty of pictures, many of which speak for themselves (yet still beg for my pithy commentary).

This person seems to have gotten a Thriller bobblehead character infused into their thigh. An interesting choice, I must say. (What is wrong with some people? Seriously. For the rest of your life, folks. The REST of your LIFE you're going to have that on there. Good luck with that. Oh, and it won't get you laid! I don't care what those guys at the tattoo shop told you.)

And over here at BuzzFeed, we have the Silhouetted One with the phrasing "Born to amuse, to inspire, to delight. Here one day. Gone one night." Oh, and I AM amused all right!

This one was actually the best artistic rendering out of the many, many Jacko tats that I observed. Never mind that it appears as if he is straining at stool. Just try not to think about that. Even though I just said it and the thought will never leave your head for more than 5 seconds.

Now, at least these two chaps did something ridiculous and not admirable in the slightest, but I'll give them credit for not doing anything permanent. Hair will grow back (unless it's burned off whilst filming a Pepsi commercial). It's unlikely that new skin will form over bad tattoos.

This 'Thriller' one isn't too bad, except the expression doesn't look like one of fright like you might expect it would. It's more surprised. Sort of like he's saying, "I'm dead? Whachoo talkin' 'bout, Willis?"

Here's another 'Thriller' one and this one is much better. Granted, STILL weird, but better than the Willis Jackson Zombie above here.
This tattoo must be a tribute to the Black or White song. Doesn't matter if your mullet is black of white.

I don't know how I feel about these with the little feet without legs. I understand that he was a great dancer and all. And really, when it comes to dancing, the feet are very important. They're almost critical to being able to execute the moves perfectly. But I don't know that his shoes AND socks should be dancing without HIM in them! Because really, in real life, that almost never happens. And when you add the hat and the glove, it looks like you have a few of the pieces from your Michael Jackson Mr. Potato Head lying around. (And with all of his plastic surgery, that wouldn't be all that surprising. Where's the nose(s)?)

This person felt that the best way to pay tribute to Jacko was to get a tattoo that made it look as if the King of Pop only had one leg, thus making him the King of Hop.
And while this SAYS "Pretty Young Thing", it most certainly is not. From a short distance, those wings look like freaky eyes. Did PYT have anything to do with angels? With wings? With birds? Any of that? Because I'm not remembering that it did, which is another reason why I find this atrocity odd. (And by the way, that ring or that halo or whatever it is supposed to be in the middle there? Well, regardless as to what it's supposed to be, it looks like a bullet hole, which really isn't the most touching tribute. Then again, I don't know that those wings and "Pretty Young Thing" in barely legible script is all that touching either.)

And finally, in what is probably the worst Michael Jackson tattoo ever (and quite possibly one of the worst tattoos overall!) and in the poorest of taste, here we have Jacko and Macaulay Culkin spending some quality time together. Behold!

Yep. On someone's leg. THAT picture. On their LEG. FOREVER. (I couldn't even imagine.)

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