jaybushman:

jaybushman:

jaybushman:

In the mid-90s, I went to film school in Greensboro, North Carolina. Greensboro and me were not a good fit. Part of it was that I was young, too young for graduate school probably. Part of it was mental health - I was severely depressed for the majority of the time I was there. Part of it was culture clash – a loudmouth New Yorker in the South. I may be ethnically Jewish, but it’s never been a huge part of my identity. But in Greensboro, I was most definitely seen as “a Jew.” One girl I knew genuinely wept for me, because I was going to Hell.

One summer, I had shaved off all my hair to cope with the swampy heat. And I went into this tattoo shop; I wasn’t really thinking about getting more ink at that time, but was really just looking around. I wandered through the shop, seeing the standard things you’d expect - books of designs, photos of happy people showing off their new tattoos. 

I wandered into the back, where the artist did his work. Next to his chair, there was a shelf with a bunch of items on it – cleaning supplies, some coins, bric-a-brac.

Taped to the shelf was a photo of Adolf Hitler.

It was like an out-of-body experience. You see video of neo-Nazis on the news, or hear stories about them, but this was an actual person, and actual Adolf-motherfucking-Hitler-worshipping person. I was standing in his shop. In his place of business, where he plied his trade, next to a photo of his idol.

I turned to leave as quickly as I could.

As I got towards the door, the shop owner emerged from behind a counter and moved towards me. I tensed.

He pointed at my head and asked, “Are you a skin? Or is that for comfort?”

It took me a second to parse that he was asking me if I was a skinhead. I muttered “comfort,” and left the shop. I climbed in my car and drove straight home. On the way, I passed two billboards that said “Jesus Christ, Savior Of The World. Ask Him To Be Yours Today.”

They’re here. They’ve always been here. Now they’re coming out of the woodwork, emboldened. And they will not be persuaded, convinced, or reasoned with. 

Seems like an appropriate day to repost this one.

Update: I was in Greensboro last week for the first tome in almost 2 decades. I went looking for that tattoo shop. I found the building easily. The shop was out of business and the place looked abandoned.

You lose, asshole.

Then again, maybe he’s currently serving in the federal government.