And then there’s Moose. Marmaduke “Moose” Mason, the big dumb lunkhead of the Archie comics, whose inner rage isn’t all that inner and whose IQ can be measured in double digits. Massive, with a military-grade blonde crewcut, and always ready to beat on anyone who looks twice at his girlfriend Midge. He’s been around since the late 1940s, and his size and his anger have been fairly constant sources of intimidation.
Well, until sort of recently.
Dig a little deeper into Moose Mason, and you find a flawed, almost tragic figure who’s just trying to make life make sense. In one issue of Archie, we find out that Moose is dyslexic, which is why he always seemed so dumb. Later, he becomes fiercely protective of class nerd Dilton Doiley. Gradually, the Riverdale gang grew to accept him as one of their own, and he accepted them. It sounds all touchy-feely, and maybe it is. I just like it when bad guys become good guys.
Anyway, I got into Archie comics doing research for a book about Stephen King. He wrote an essay on Archie once and I wanted to know what all the fuss was about. Some way, some how, Archie became a focal point of my comic-loving life. I love it all: the goofy-funny main title (which I apparently livetweet, to the delight of my tens of readers!), the more serious and fascinating alternate future timelines book, Life With Archie. Zombie comic Afterlife With Archie. Betty & Veronica. I read it all. And while all the stories are good fun, it’s the Moose stories that always resonated most with me, especially in Life With Archie. In one storyline, future Moose becomes the janitor of Riverdale High; in another, he becomes Mayor. Such is fate.
There are plenty of iconic images I could have gotten tattooed to my body to showcase my love of Archie comics. There’s the famous Veronica/Archie/Betty sharing an ice cream soda picture. Anything with Jughead eating a hamburger. Even a harried-looking Mr. Weatherbee, perhaps wondering what that crazy Archie Andrews was up to this time.
But for me, it had to be Moose. Not only because of the bully-turned-buddy backstory, but also for more prurient reasons. Moose is a big dude. A big dude with a crewcut and a tiny little hat that bends up. Why is that hat so hot? Because sweet goddamn is that hat hot.
I brought my Moose concept to John as the sun went down, wanting Moose alone in a big spotlighted circle. I’m good with inked circles. “Blue inside,” I said, and John suggested we match the gradated blue on my Drive-By Truckers tattoo. Capital idea! “I’ll give him a little halo effect,” John said, because John reads my mind and gets what I need.
I knew it wouldn’t take long, but even I was astonished at how quick it was and how little it hurt. My comics-and-cartoons arm – previously only the domain of the Daredevil symbol and my big Baloo the Bear – now gets the anchor. When you have three in a theme, you can’t really go back. Robin Hood? Soon. Swamp Thing? Not yet.
Sometimes my tattoos have Meaning and Importance, something that resonates with my path in life or my relationship with my father or something equally profound. And sometimes I just get tattoos because I dig the idea, and they represent one of my many, many jams. This time, I got a little Moose in a little hat, I’m super happy with how it turned out, and everything’s Archie.
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