I'm a piercenik-I hope you don't mind. It's a personal thing, but it's political, too. I'm active in the pierce movement. I'm part of a brotherhood and sisterhood of pseudo-savages and real savages who can't wait to perforate virgin skin.

If I meet someone who doesn't know I'm a piercenik, who in fact may not sympathize with piercing, I'll play down my leanings.

"Sorry," I'll say as I unclip the hoops and withdraw them from their slots. "I was just at a meeting."

"What sort of a meeting was that?" the person might ask me.

"A pacifist meeting, a nonviolent gathering."

"Are you a peacenik?" the person might ask.

"No," I'll say. "I'm a piercenik."

"I've heard about you pierceniks," the person might say. "Aren't you like pinkos?"

"No, no," I'll say. "Those are the peaceniks. They want to bring an end to war. They don't care about needles, punches, holes and rings."

"So you're a tattooist?"

"We have no taboos against tattoos. But we like jewelry more than ink. In fact, many of us work in jewelry stores. We're the ones behind the counter, ready to put a hole in your tongue."

"I'm glad you said that," the person might say, at which point he or she might open his or her mouth to reveal an inch-long stud through the flesh of the tongue.

"Wow," I'll say, knowing I've met a fellow piercenik. "Welcome to the pierce movement. We demonstrate tomorrow."

"Where will you demonstrate?"

"In the sterile studio, of course. We'll start with techniques for eyebrows and navels, then we'll advance to scrotums and nipples."

"Sure thing, brother," my new friend will say. "I'll bring my pierce literature. I'll be ready to tool some leather."