Why I Haven't Gotten That Frank Zappa Tattoo Yet

Figure 1. Some guy

Those who wish they didn't know me that well are very aware of, and annoyed by, my infatuation with Frank Zappa. "Shut up already" they all say to me. They brazenly say that right to my incredibly handsome, perfectly symmetrical face! Fair enough, obviously. To each his own, and all that. You don't have to like the guy, and who could blame you? He was ugly, his music was ugly, his catalog is huge and inaccessible, and he was kind of an asshole. My 17-year-old self found that all incredibly appealing, though, and once I bought myself that very first Zappa album I had an insatiable appetite for anything and everything else of his that I could get my hands on. For nearly 1.5 years straight he was the only artist I wanted to listen to. Zappa died on December 4th, 1993, 25 years ago today, from complications related to prostate cancer. He died 10 years before I even knew who he was. His music changed my life.

Blah blah blah blah blah blah *insert slow jack-off motion here that lasts longer than it needs to, making it awkward for everyone in the room*. Everyone has this story. You all have something from your teenage years that affected you in a way that would seem impossible to happen again in your life as a world-weary adult: Catcher in the Rye, Hunter S. Thompson, George Carlin, System of a Down, Final Fantasy, Nirvana, Miles Davis...My Little Pony, the Smurfs, Joel Osteen, Guy Fieri, Kim Jong-il, "Ernest Goes to Camp"...hey, who am I to judge? My obsession with Zappa was second to nothing else, and my obsession was/is so deep-seated that I've been seriously thinking about getting a Zappa tattoo for the last 10 years. His big ol' dumb iconic black mustachioed logo located on my left forearm just below the crook of my elbow. I know exactly what I want, I know where I want it, I haven't ever waffled on any of the details, and I have never pulled the trigger on it. Here are my reasons, all of them embarrassingly irrational:

Figure 2. A thing

1) Do I really look like I could pull off a goddamned tattoo?

I mean, really? Come on. If anyone reading this hasn't seen me since high school, I'm 5'9" and 150 lbs of skinny-fat dad bod in all its wondrous glory. I wear sad-looking plaid button-downs with khaki pants at work and American Apparel shirts with jeans at home. I didn't start shaving every day until I turned 24. I look like the kind of guy who collects anime pillows and gets all riled up about Bitcoins. Imagine if man-child Doug Funnie got a Beets tattoo. I don't need that extra level of potentially permanent self-consciousness in my life! I'd even have to wear a long-sleeved shirt every day in the shower to escape my inner torment.

2) I'd be a wimp through every aspect of the process

Obviously all the planning and the going and the doing, that's all the temporary part, but man everything about doing it sounds like a real drag. Finding a good and reputable tattoo artist, finding the right reference design and size for the tattoo artist, feeling fully comfortable with my choices, undergoing the actual process itself, keeping it clean and allowing it to heal property, I'm too lazy for all that shit. The needles don't scare me too much, but I'm an insufferable wuss about pain and I get overly emotional about paper cuts so I can't see myself handling the situation with the grace of anyone older than 2. Once it became a reality, I'd spend most of the days leading up to the event pacing and wringing my hands and annoying my loved ones with constant projections of my tiresome anxieties. "Shut up already" they would all say to me. They would brazenly say it right to my incredibly striking, pale gray eyes and my perfectly sculpted jawline.

3) Let's go back to the self-conscious thing again for a second...

OK, so let's forget all that shit earlier about looking like third-rate Doug Funnie. I'm also not personally too big anymore on using my own body as a billboard to advertise my interests to the world. I wore Simpsons shirts and khaki shorts every day during high school, even in the winter. Everyone in high school knew I liked the Simpsons, big fucking deal. Did I ever get laid in high school? Enough said. I kind of don't want to be the guy who likes Zappa so much he found it necessary to make this permanently known to a world full of people who couldn't care less. Do YOU care that I like Frank Zappa? No? Why are you even reading this? Go back to ebaumsworld, son!

4) I don't think Zappa has aged well

Zappa took a lot of pride in being purposefully controversial with respect to racism, sexism, religion, sexuality, and politics. It was always presented as satire, mostly level-headed and designed to provoke, but a lot of it was less thought-out than I'd like to admit (even at the time) and some of it certainly hasn't aged well in the last 50 years. In all honesty, in this day and age when our own president is a callous, ignorant, miserable piece of shit, I'm not thrilled with the idea of accidentally projecting any semblance of approval, as indirect as it might be, for such opinions through the medium of tattoo. As a white dude who was raised in the sheltered suburbs, fuck that noise. Even if Zappa may not have believed it all himself, it's still not a good look.

Almost all personal accounts of the real Zappa suggest that he was a decent man. He was a good husband and father who raised four kids who are all fairly well-adjusted human beings considering their celebrity upbringing. It would hurt me to hear evidence someday that Zappa was a complete misogynist or a Bill Cosby-level sexual predator, and then after that point I would still have an obvious homage to him forever on my arm? Yuck. I'm not above ditching my heroes if they turn out to be major shitheads, but I hear tattoo removal is just as painful as getting the actual tattoo. I'd procrastinate like a motherfucker and I'd sooner revise the tattoo by putting "I'M PLANNING ON GETTING RID OF THIS" in big, red block letters over it. Now that's funny!

Figure 3. Someone braver than I am

Yeah, so if anyone reading this has a vested interest in allowing me to make a fool out of myself, be sure to encourage me to go through with this without betraying a single hint of sarcasm or sinister ulterior motives and it may work out for ya! Maybe I'll finally get the tattoo when I'm 82 years old. Seacrest out.