I hope you are doing well. I am writing this open letter to you on October 14, 2013, late in the evening. I write from a place of respect, maturity and liquidity.
You’ve accomplished a lot in recent years: lived abroad in southeast Asia, quit smoking, grown an amazing jazz afro that would make Pat Metheny proud and made it back to America, all in one piece. You’ve entertained dozens with your insightful tweets.
Let me get to the point of my open letter. I’m sure your father and I would agree, that your tattoo habit is a waste of money, and quite honestly a little out of hand. What do you think your kids will say when you’re 70 years old? The faded ink on your arms from over-chlorinated pools and too much sunlight, just a memory of its former glory. Tats looking as if you accidentally rubbed against a colored chalk board outside a coffee shop. How will you explain that?
Max, get your tattoos removed now. The pain of laser treatment now will save you years of ridicule.