The nail that sticks out gets hammered down, or does it?

Do you have a tattoo to care for? If not, shouldn’t you ask yourself, why not? Butterflies on calves, angel wings on shoulders, Celtic crosses across chests of law-abiding citizens have superseded
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Do you have a tattoo to care for? If not, shouldn’t you ask yourself, why not? Butterflies on calves, angel wings on shoulders, Celtic crosses across chests of law-abiding citizens have superseded anchors and arrow-pierced hearts on biceps of the demimonde. The size of your body surface area is the limit, because, “YAS, this gives you life!” Of course, whether or not you pay a scratcher to prick your skin is a purely personal decision; strangely, however, a generation ago no one (dare I say it?) in their right mind took such a decision, whereas now many perfectly normal people do. If you meet someone with crossbones on their sternum you do not avoid them, as your parents would have done; rather you’d ask, with real or fake admiration, who did this kicky job? I‘m not concerned about the diffusion of bad taste, because chacun à son goût. More interesting is the question why this happens. The craze for ink comes in waves. In the 1880s, the Duke of York, later Kind George V, made tattoos. . .

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News source: Linguistics – OUPblog

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