There are perks to being the webmaster for a hotshot tattooist. Every now and then you get a free hotshot tattoo.

We just took advantage of a 20 hour window between hockey playoffs and dentistry to drive down to see Mike Dick and his family. It's been months between updates with time and timing the enemy as usual in this life. And so you learn to take your chances where you may.

Victoria's easily 2 1/2 hours and as much gas away and it takes a lot to get this gang out the house overnight. We have to arrange for our 30 odd critters while we're away, not to mention supplies for the four of us and the hound. Feed and water for the chickens. And the bunny. And the chicks. And the hens. And the cat. Damn cat.

While we made it in time to load up on new scans and make plans for new features we also managed an hour in the chair for me. People get tattooed for lots of different reasons, I get 'em so I can hang out with Mike and watch him work. I know I can lay my arm down with total calm and faith. I just relax and enjoy the Johnny Cash or Johnny Horton while we talk about kids and sticking it to the man. Mikes got an outlaw spirit and a kind heart. His hand is steady as any you'll find and his eye is as sharp as his needle.

The piece you see him working on there was my first tattoo, a gift from Mike on the occasion of my wedding. It's supposed to be a raven, an animal I've always felt a kinship with. We're just putting in some shading while we plan the rest of the arm, just fooling around really while we shoot some film to put onsite.

Mike's been at this almost a decade, with 15 years of art and living before that. He recently closed his original shop and re-opened underground in a new location. He hit a crossroads in his career, forced with a choice to expand, to go more corporate and even deeper in debt. He'd have to chase every hour to make it, churn out the Tasmanian Devils by the dozen, anchors and flags right off the wall.

Instead he went the other way, no phone, no sign, the fuck you tattoo school of business. He doesn't post his hours or advertise in the yellow pages. If he's there when you come by great, if not well fuck you. If you're mad because he won't do the Nike swoosh on your back well fuck you. And for all the other great reasons in the world fuck you. But don't take it personally, one on one and face to face he'll treat you with the kind of decency and respectt you figured had gone out of style 100 years ago.