No, that is not “Big Country” Roy Nelson.
Just a guy who vicariously gets laid through Hulk Hogan.
Also a precursor for what you are about to see from men who make a living with their shirts off, thrusting their shame into the bright lights.
The inspiration for this article came from an ongoing personal experience that occurred yet again this very day.
I patronize the same liquor store in my neighborhood every time I am in need of alcohol. It has nothing to do with the prices, selection, location…etc.
Simply put, it has everything to do with a brilliant marketing strategy employed by the owner. He only signs the paychecks of female college students who are content with adhering to a dress code that makes Hooter Girls look like Nuns.
There is a chronic loiterer who spends close to 10 hours a day perched outside of said store asking paying consumers for financial assistance.
After hundreds of failed attempts by him asking me for monetary assistance, he adopted a new approach with me today.
Walking out of the store, he asked me if I had (and I quote) “an extra beer”. To which I replied “I do… it’s sitting in the cupholder of the unicorn I rode here”.
There’s nothing that I hate more than having to explain jokes, so I hope by now he realized that “an extra beer” falls into the realm of Unicorns and Leprechauns.
By now, the patient members of Bleacher Report still reading this article are wondering what on Earth this has to do with tattoos?
Here’s what – this chronic loiterer has a gigantic neck tattoo in big, bold letters that reads “THE LOYAL ONE”. On many occasions, I’ve wanted to scratch behind his ears then launch a tennis ball to see if he will give chase.
Many out there must be giving this poor soul the benefit of the doubt assuming this outrageous tattoo must be more centrally located on the upper-chest, therefore giving him the ability to cover it up by wearing a normal crew-cut shirt.
I’m afraid not. Nothing short of a turtle-neck shirt that would make “Shaft” jealous will cover up this Bad-Larry. Every time I see it, I’m still curious if his tattoo artist made him sign some sort of waiver before agreement.
I think the true lesson is, unless there is no doubt you are financially secure for the rest of your life, tattoos have not so much a time, but definitely a place.
If you plan to get any tattoo at all with the placement located in the face / neck range, you had better have an allocation of funds double- and triple-checked by financial advisers who assure you regardless of inflation, future wars, and alien invasion that you will be secure until you reach the age of 100 (personally, I’d still make sure I had a room full of gold bars just in case).
Here are five fighters who are one terrible president away from sitting “Indian-style” outside of their favorite liquor store :
This might be a classic case of overconfidence.
The man has a beard tattooed on his jaw. Apparently, he likes the look of facial hair, but doesn’t care for the time and maintenance it takes.
It’s quite evident he requested some sort of devilish skull located on the center of his chest, but then it appears Mr. Nickels requested his tattoo artist to “Jackson Pollock” the rest.
I have a funny feeling Mike’s tattoo artist had no clue who Jackson Pollock was, or just thought he heard “Black Shoe Polish” the rest.
C’mon… who didn’t see this one coming ?
You show me a sword that gets bigger from the shaft, and I’ll show you a Frank Mir tattoo artist with a death wish.
Even down to the appropriate sized testicles, ahem, finger holes on bottom, this one’s a perfect example of anonymous ridicule behind the safety of your keyboard.
Thank God he shaves his abdomen, or else this could be even funnier.
That is Chris Leben’s back. That is a gigantic Samurai wearing a skirt. That is a severed head he is holding in his left hand. That is also lettering I pray translates into “I lost the bet, so what ?”.
Strangely enough, the weirdest part of the entire tattoo is the Fu-Manchu the Samurai is sporting…
That’s so 1980’s.
Nope, not Marcus “The Irish Hand Grenade” Davis.
I’d actually give him a pass on this one, considering he’s pulled the pin out of his grenade on more than one occasion.
The proud owner of that fist is none other than Junie Browning.
The tattoo just gives another reason I would be wary of contracting Herpes if I shook his hand.
Notice the black shading that virtually covers everything right up until the first knuckle on each finger. The way his fighting career is headed, it might serve him well in his future endeavors of being able to fool his coworkers into believing he did wash his hands after using the restroom at White Castle.
For everyone without 20/20 vision… Yes, that does read “I HAVE A SMALL PENIS”.
Where to begin?
Numero Uno – He better not have paid for that.
Numero Dos – Minus a firearm pointed at your head, wouldn’t a permanent marker placate the guy you lost the bet to ?
Numero Tres – if you’re making out with a female and she slowly starts maneuvering south of your mouth, the majority of them wouldn’t make it past the Swastika located on your chest.
If by chance said female is a former Nazi, first off you’re about to make love to a woman who went through menopause before you had your first tooth.
Secondly, you don't have creamy white skin with blond hair... Hitler was after you too, buddy.
Finally, when she reaches the warning sign located near your belly-button, most people believe what is written on the Internet, never mind what is permanently inscribed on your body.
Regardless, I say “To each their own”. Maybe it helps locking up a triangle choke when your opponent gasses themselves out by laughing hysterically at the very last thing they see.
Well played Melvin, well played.