When I was a kid, I was crazy about Looney Tunes cartoons. I remember getting out of bed with excitement every Saturday morning and plopping myself down in front of the tiny black and white TV (there were color TVs back then, we just didnt have one). It was the 70s, and my heroes were Bugs Bunny and Marvin the Martian. Even back when I was 6 years old, I knew to distrust most humans, and like Marvin, Ive always had less than perfect ways to express my displeasure with them. I imagined myself getting an eludium pu36 explosive space modulator in the mail and using it against humanity.
"Oh, that wasn't a bit nice...You have made me very angry... very angry indeed!"
Years passed and I found myself a teen at band camp (yep, this one time at band camp). There was a 16 year old tough girl in my band one summer who had a mom cool enough to allow her to get a tattoo on her upper arm of my old friend Marvin, pointing his acme ray gun directly out at anyone foolish enough to glance his way. I was so envious. How I wanted a Marvin just like hers.
More years passed, and in my 20s I began getting my own tattoos. In my 20s and 30s I had butterflies inked on various parts of me, obvious symbols of the transitions I made in my own life so far, dire depression, even suicidal tendencies, worked through and for the most part defeated. Macho people who dont think guys should have butterfly tattoos can bite me. And with every new tattoo, Marvin came to mind again. If only I could.
So, at 42, I finally did. Much praise to that anonymous 16 year old in the 80s who I stole the idea from. I know its not cool to copy tattoos, but I think this case is a good exception. My Marvin is a playful depiction of my own sometimes juvenile distaste for the human race. As a cyclist, I thought it would be appropriate to place him on my right calf where other people in the peloton could see and maybe get a laugh out on a long ride. And his Acme Ray Gun is still pointing straight out, lest any of those cyclists start acting like annoying humans and have to be told to back the fuck off.
![]()
"Oh, that wasn't a bit nice...You have made me very angry... very angry indeed!"
Years passed and I found myself a teen at band camp (yep, this one time at band camp). There was a 16 year old tough girl in my band one summer who had a mom cool enough to allow her to get a tattoo on her upper arm of my old friend Marvin, pointing his acme ray gun directly out at anyone foolish enough to glance his way. I was so envious. How I wanted a Marvin just like hers.
More years passed, and in my 20s I began getting my own tattoos. In my 20s and 30s I had butterflies inked on various parts of me, obvious symbols of the transitions I made in my own life so far, dire depression, even suicidal tendencies, worked through and for the most part defeated. Macho people who dont think guys should have butterfly tattoos can bite me. And with every new tattoo, Marvin came to mind again. If only I could.
So, at 42, I finally did. Much praise to that anonymous 16 year old in the 80s who I stole the idea from. I know its not cool to copy tattoos, but I think this case is a good exception. My Marvin is a playful depiction of my own sometimes juvenile distaste for the human race. As a cyclist, I thought it would be appropriate to place him on my right calf where other people in the peloton could see and maybe get a laugh out on a long ride. And his Acme Ray Gun is still pointing straight out, lest any of those cyclists start acting like annoying humans and have to be told to back the fuck off.