Pieter Quast, Dutch
“Seriously, Bro? I Can’t Believe You Fell For the Old Rattlesnake-On-The-Outhouse Toilet Seat Prank AGAIN,” ca. 1635
Oil on panel
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Info, or perhaps links that point to more info, about this artist can be found here, here (archived if necessary), here, here, here (can be read in full for free on Fridays), here, and here, perhaps in addition to what’s in his Wikipedia page.
/// Dolf’s tattooed with a name, (not his wife),
so it’s being removed with a knife.
If wife sees, his name’s mud,
but he’s lost lots of blood.
Either way he is risking his life.
/// The removal is done by a quack
at work in a barn, slicing his back
with a blade, nicked and rusty.
The barn’s filthy and dusty,
and gore’s seeping down past his butt crack.
/// The success of this scheme isn’t sure,
and Dolph’s raw wounds may need their own cure.
Sepsis is a big danger,
so, right next to the manger,
they made poultices out of manure.
/// No one there thought that Dolph would survive.
He was sent home more dead than alive.
His big tramp-stamp’s obscured,
but his problem’s not cured:
That’s just one tattoo gone out of five.
Dolph’s wife Eefje is jealous and mean,
but, thus far, no tattoos have been seen.
She might overlook all,
were the girlfriend’s name small—
his tats say “Wilhelmina Jacqueline.”
/// I can’t figure, to my satisfaction,
how this loser, Dolph, got any action.
His “girlfriend,” no doubt, sold
her affection for gold.
I don’t see any other attraction.
/// We may wonder just why Dolph would choose
to get so many risky tattoos.
He, in time, would be viewed
by his wife in the nude.
(I suspect he was muddled by booze.)
/// Wilhelmina thought ads would bring fame,
so she made poor Dolph tattoo her name,
taking up lots of space
in a different place,
ev’ry time to her brothel he came.