It’s really not that hard to get on ModBlog, you know. All it takes is the right combination of interesting photography, well placed piercings, skin-tight latex and a good measure of amateur dentistry. Clearly, pinkdekay up there has been paying attention to our standards of excellence.

So, even though tattoos are super boring and awful and nobody should ever write about them, or even think about them, really, because they’re a waste of time, I don’t ever really get tired of stories like this. Take it away, Bill:

My name is Bill and I got my tattoo done at Excalibur Tattoo & Design in Shelton, CT, by a guy named Ducky. I have always loved old school tattooing and the water, so I figured this would be a nice start for further tattoos (I’m working on filling my back). My dad (Tom) and I went to get them together and it was also his first tattoo — his at the age of 53, mine at age 20. Talk about father son bonding …

Close-up shots of said tattoos after the jump.

Hey, how about that? Long-time friend of BME and full-time Mexican Mutant, Phineas Gage Louie, just stretched himself up a two-gauge septril piercing! “Biggest ever?” he asks. What do you all think — anyone ever seen a bigger septril than this? Not that it’s a contest or anything … but, y’know, if it were, Louie, like, totally wins.

A bonus shot of El Mutante with a clearer look at his hu-yuuuuge horns and other various facial accoutrements, after the jump.

Wait, what? It’s almost Thursday and I haven’t posted a picture of a mind-explodingly awesome tattoo by Marc at Swastika Freakshop yet? Dawww geez, the boss is gonna have my legs broke for this one.

When reached for comment, Zack Morris stood up from the thick leather chair in his study, walked over to the bar, poured himself a glass of Mendis, donned his silk burgundy robe, sat back down, took a sip of the brandy, summoned his hairless cat, Sir Otis von Trippenwind III, petted him gently on the head, shooed him away, picked the phone back up, and, after a deep breath, quietly forced out a throaty “… good,” and hung up promptly.

I apologize in advance for posting such graphic and disturbing content this early in the morning, but this is an issue — a threat — that, if allowed to continue unabated, could have consequences most dire. (Remember that time the dolphins grew thumbs and then used them to plant poisonous snakes in bunches of delicious bananas, all over the world, just because they could, just to screw with us? It’ll be like that, yet somehow worse.) Untold thousands of miniature humans like the one pictured above are literally appearing every day, latching onto defenseless adults for sustenance and warmth and resources and such. What’s their agenda? Why won’t they speak? And why do these adults play along so willingly — is it a spell, or simply blackmail? I feel I’ve said too much as it is.

… Or it could be that this baby is twigboy’s son, and that, in his words:

This was the first day my son Scott figured out he could grab onto my ear and use it as a handle. Now he just grabs my ear and falls backwards — seems he knows that as long as he holds on, he won’t fall.

… and then give Daniel a pretty sweet makeover. (Actually, did that, in addition to taking the photo.)