Suppose you leave Montana to join the Marine Corps. After a couple of nights at the recruit depot in San Diego you get drunk and wake up with Semper Fi tattooed across your backside, and no orifice is sore. In my book you've done a noble thing. But patriotism aside, when it comes to art forms, tattooing rides drag, and body piercing is the runt maverick with a busted leg that’s left in the brush for the coyotes to finish off.

Aw heck, this is the fifth anniversary of September 11, why not discharge my mind regarding Islam?