Men Who Get Friday the 13th Tattoos.

It’s true, most “men” of the North Brooklyn variety are either jobless or living on daddy’s dime and must accordingly take advantage of specials on services they don’t really need whenever they can. Even so, the “man” who capitalizes on the Friday the 13th tattoo smacks of a particularly cheap and inky odor. It’s bad enough that they’re probably already the type to have color tattoos. Compounded with a lust for needle dragging that costs $30 from the sort of rinky dink shittaytay that would offer such a price point, the “man” sporting a Friday the 13th tattoo in color is to be neither feared nor revered.

While some shops have improved the menu of designs offered, it’s more or less always going to be a skull, the number 13, a devil’s head or some other unwanted depiction with blood on it. And a girl must ask herself: do I really want to let a “man” with a one-day only relevant tattoo to enter my body?

 

Men Who Don’t Admit to Their Jason in Friday the 13th Issues.

With Friday the 13th upon us, it’s important that we look to the mascot of this rare and ominous holiday: Jason Voorhees from, yep, Friday the 13th. As a “man” with infinite emotional and psychological issues, Jason is a classic prototype of what is wrong with most “men”: their mothers.

Jason: the everyman for "men"

Jason: the everyman for “men”


As the son of a camp cook, which in and of itself would lead a “man” to go crazy, Jason’s mental state is further damaged after Mrs. Voorhees is killed by the film’s protagonist, Alice. But before this happens, Mrs. Voorhees reveals herself to be a crazed murderer, hence Jason’s own bloodlust later on in life. This critical moment in his existence causes him to be a total fuck-up of a human being, and it’s all thanks to his goddamn crazy ho of a mother. So next time you wonder why you’re living in Williamsburg sucking your thumb and fantasizing about killing women, take note from Jason and realize it’s probably because your mother ruined you at some point in your early childhood. Happy Friday the 13th, ya dickless animals.