The reason why I chose to permanently mark my precious, silky white skin with Captain America's Shield, was not as a tribute to Cap. No doubt, this alone might have been a worthy enough reason. It was more than that to me. It was a life long commitment to buying into Cap's philosophy. A philosophy built on a proud nation of heroes, past and present. A constant reminder to fight for what is right. To stick to my principles. To defend my beliefs, protect my family and help others, less fortunate than myself.
If all of this sounds like a crock of shit to you...
You'd be completely right.
Actually, I just think that the Cap shield is completely dope and I thought it would look awesome. Which it does. There is a point to all of this though.
Last weekend, I took my oldest daughter to pick up her new bike. Right across the street from the bicycle shop is the tattoo parlor where I get my ink. I've been wanting to make an appointment for quite some time, so I decided to drop in. I thought it would be cool to take my daughter with me and show her around. She has no problem with my tattoos. I've had ink since before she was born and I've added a bunch along the way. I've even got her name on my arm. I think she looks at me as a cool dad. At least that's what I thought. She sat with me while I discussed my next tattoo with one of the artists. When we left the shop, we had this little exchange...
Out-Numbered - So, what do you think about my idea for the new tattoo?
Six Year Old - It's OK. I guess.
Out-Numbered - What do you mean, you guess?
Six Year Old - It's fine.
Out-Numbered - Dude. I thought you liked my tattoos?
Six Year Old - I do.
Out-Numbered - Then what's the problem? I don't get it.
Six Year Old - Nothing Daddy.
Out-Numbered - Are you sure?
Six Year Old - I don't think you should get anymore tattoos.
Out-Numbered - Why?
Six Year Old - I just think you have enough.
Out-Numbered - Is that all?
Six Year Old - Kind of.
Out-Numbered - Sweet heart. C'mon. Tell me what you're thinking.
Six Year Old - I just don't want people to make fun of me.
Out-Numbered - What? Why would they make fun of you? Because of my tattoos?
Six Year Old - Yes.
Out-Numbered - You know what? I don't think anyone will make fun of you. I'll tell you what though. If they do, then they probably aren't worth paying attention to any way.
Six Year Old - Fine.
Out-Numbered - And I'll kick their butts.
Six Year Old - You're annoying.
Out-Numbered - Got it.
This kind of broke my heart. It's not like I'm Dennis Hopper, in Hoosiers, drunk off my ass, embarrassing the shit out of her in public. Or Harry Dean Stanton, from Pretty in Pink. I'm not the Jewish, Dennis Rodman. I don't have a pair of tits, tattooed on my neck or anything like that. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
But wait...
Fuck that shit!
Maybe that Captain America Shield on my shoulder, does stand for something. Maybe it's not just Fo' Sho'. You don't have to be a Super Hero to teach your kids to think for themselves. You certainly don't have to possess super human strength to set an example and you definitely don't need to ingest Super Soldier Serum to tell some punk ass, first grader, to step off.
I'm keeping that appointment to get my new tattoo. I'm going to show her that her Dad is the shizzle; With or without a tattoo of a metalic blue, BC Rich Bitch guitar, with an evil skull impaled on the neck.
Don't ask.
This Super Hero refuses to feel Out-Numbered...
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