I had a few minutes to kill, so here’s my conjecture on the evolutionary history of tattoo’s.
A long time ago, before the dawn of civilization, a big strong guy, at the prime of his life (he is probably all of twelve years old) is out on a stroll, minding his own business.
Suddenly, a tiger appears out of nowhere. She’s a formidable beast that triggers his instinct to flee. But what would be the point? He reckons, the moment he turns the back to her, he’s dead.
So, our man stands his ground. The tiger jumps. Our man pulls his colt and plants one between her burning eyes (tiger, tiger…)
However, the tiger does land on him with her full weight , throwing him on the tar-covered ground (the road had just been paved) and her fangs tear at his shoulder. Our hero manageth to push the beast off of him, but not before his wounds soak the tar in.
In the weeks to come, the wounds will heal, sealing in the tar, marking our man forever as a tiger-slayer … and a ladies-man. The man killed a tiger, and he can prove it. Lo and behold, Tattoo’s are born.
And they’re a Good Trick. They give this guy a biological advantage: He’s got something the others don’t. Soon, men everywhere will be tattooing themselves. First it’s fangs, then it’s dinosaur teeth. Before long, it’s I HEART SARAH, a song, a Buddha and some pornography.
So there you go.