Jeff Cornell

Greetings. I am Jeff and this is my story.
My mother was the offspring of a stout Nordic maiden and a wayward yet sensitive rock giant named Bogh. My father, the child of a delinquent British monarch to be and a soulful and buxom kitchen wench, was forced to leave his home as a young man. Apparently he had caused quite a scandal when he was discovered in bed with the mistress of his grandfather. Of course, said grandfather denied his blood relation and swore to see my father hanged by the neck and relieved of his "jewels". So, off to the new world went my father, where he eventually settled in a remote and quiet burgh just west of the Mighty Muddy, leaving a wake of broken hearts and empty mattresses behind him.
As luck would have it, my mother and father met in a diner where my mother worked. My father had ducked in to escape an irate paramour of another young damsel when he finally met his match. She threw him over her shoulder and carried him home to meet the folks. Perhaps it was her Norse beauty, perhaps her brute rock giant demeanor. Whatever it was, it proved to be enough to keep my dad in line.
Although my father's days of chasing ladies were over, he was far from well domesticated. After another unfortunate episode involving some Johnny Walker, some stolen alligators and a University Dean's private swimming pool, my parents moved to my eventual birthplace, Decorah, Iowa.
It wasn't long before it became obvious that I was special. My interest, some have said "unhealthy interest", in macabre and violent art and an early obsession with cows and cats led to the only possible conclusion as to the question: "What will we do with Jeff?!". So, with nothing more than a satchel of clothes, a toothbrush and my trusty homemade oak fighting sticks, I was shipped off to furthest Asia.
In a remote village high in the Himalayas, I first studied the arts of the assassins. I learned quickly and soon was the greatest Ninja in the land. Soon I became too powerful for even my masters to control, so I was again sent away.
In the jungles of India I was taught the ways of simplicity and depravation and soon achieved oneness with the Buddha. I spoke with him and told him that enlightenment was wonderful, if not a bit boring at times. He smiled and told me I had learned all he could teach me and sent me packing.
It was later in the fish markets of Singapore, while waylaying drunken American sailors for their American dollars, I first encountered the arts of the tattoo. I spoke with the masters and they did not find me unpleasant. It was agreed that I would be taught the ancient ways of 'tatau'.
Following my lengthy and trying apprenticeship, it was deemed necessary to once again send me on my way. It is my belief that I will one day be asked to perform a service for my eastern masters, and that they have positioned me here for just such an occasion. But in the meantime, you can find me here at Hidden Hand Tattoo.