When I was a young first-generation punk, we cut ourselves because we meant it. Good news for all you peer-pressured, conformist emo rebels though. Now you can get some decorative branding to hide all the little disposable-razor cries-for-help that you posted on MySpace (actually it was Xanga, but only you and your silly Emo friends know what Xanga is). Comfortably enter the already tattoo-friendly youth job market with lovely Carp (oh, I’m sorry, “Koi”…) skin branding that hides your wimpy suicide attempts. For the blind self-cutter, there are always braille tattoos. But this obviously begs the question: Why would you want a tattoo if you couldn’t see it?