[Yossarian]

I was in a queue of pushchair-wielding dads at Melbourne airport the other day.

There was an Indian bloke in front of me, wearing a pair of bleached denim jeans and a curious newspaper-print effect t-shirt.

The latter was daubed with various naff slogans, one of which remains indelibly etched in my consciousness...

"I wear my scars like the rings of a pimp"

Can anyone shed any light on the existential significant of this utterance?

[galpinos]

Google say's it's the opening lyric of God Loves Ugly by Atmosphere.

[Yossarian]

Hmmm. Sounds to me like an untenable adherence to Popper's critical rationalism.

Mr Atmosphere is immediately assuming that all pimps wear rings.

I've not met many pimps, but I can safely assume that there must be some who are allergic to rare metals and as such would probably steer clear of mandibular jewellery. Thus the a priori assumption that all pimps wear rings is in fact fallacious, and the comparison with Mr Atmosphere's scar tissue cannot therefore follow...

[SA Chris]

Sarcastic Mr know-it-all

[Jaspersharpe]

I reckon the Indian bloke just had really shit taste in clothing.

[Yossarian]

Chris: I assume Mr Sarcastic Know-It-All is in fact Mr Lover Lover's little-known step-brother.

Jasper: He did look fucking awful. There is a particular type of bleached denim that curries favour with our Indian brethren. It is not becoming.

If anyone else knows much about rings, pimping, scar tissue, etc, feel free to chip in.

[metal arms]

If anyone else knows much about rings, pimping, scar tissue, etc, feel free to chip in.

Pimpin' ain't easy.

[Wipey Why]

Jasper: He did look fucking awful. There is a particular type of bleached denim that curries favour with our Indian brethren. It is not becoming.