Hello again young mammals, I have been away lately catching up on my reading and video games, and dealing with the dreaded birthday avalanche of many family members.  While this has been very enjoyable, all in all I feel as though I have neglected you, and I feel bad for that – so in reparation of my thoughtlessness to you, I bring to your attention a light and humorous post today.

Tattoos.  Many of us have them, most of us even like the ones we have. (excepting of course your ex partners name in a heart on your inner thigh, It’s getting harder and harder to find new girlfriends called Morag)
Many people get unique and meaningful tattoos, beautiful works of art that advance the medium of tattooing.

And then there are these people.



All these people have absolutely no regrets, until one of their more literate friends explain to them, and then they are filled with ALL THE REGERTS!!!!.  Some people blame the tattooist – but I lay all the blame squarely on the customer.  If you are about to get a permanent tattoo inked into your flesh, you better check the spelling before the needle goes in.

Now I may be a dinorobosaur, out of touch with what you mammals get up to, but in this case I’m judging you harshly.


Oh, well in that case, Juge away god, Juge away.

Peace out for now fleshlings.



About dinorobosaur

I'm not *really* a dinorobosaur...
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