It’s been a tough few months in the life of Ben Affleck.

Come to think of it, it’s been a tough couple years for Beantown Benny, but for brevity’s sake, we’ll stick to the more recent misfortunes.

The latest round of headaches that likely has been dejectedly vaping in a Dodge Charger somewhere has to do with Ben’s back tattoo.

Now, this is a saga that’s been going on for years, but only came to a head this past week, when some candid shirtless beach photos confirmed that Affleck lied about the tattoo being “fake for a movie.”

We may never know what possessed Ben to have a giant, colorful phoenix etched into his flesh, but it’s not hard to figure out why he decided to lie about it:

The tattoo is a big ugly mistake – not unlike the film Gigli – and Ben quite understandably wanted to cover it up.

Mistakes, we all make them – but that doesn’t mean we’re exempt from getting flamed on social media when we screw up.

And more followers means more haters, a lesson Ben learned the hard way, as trolls came out of the woodwork to rag on his horrendous ink.

To make matters worse, now those cronut-munching Niles Crane wannabes at The New Yorker are having a go at poor Ben.

In a piece published last week entitled – we sh-t you not – “The Great Sadness of Ben Affleck,” columnist Naomi Fry roasted the Batfleck within an inch of his life.

Was the article meant to be funny?

We think so, but it’s hard to tell with The New Yorker – a publication which remains stubbornly convinced that sketches of wild animals complaining about oaky chardonnay are the stuff of droll hilarity.

Fry critiqued the photos mercilessly, ragging on Ben’s “pooching” gut and the “blue-gray towel … wrapped protectively around his midsection—recalling a shy teen at the local pool.”

Yes, like her magazine’s famous cartoons, Fry’s piece won’t make you laugh, necessarily, but if you’re a certain type of smug, you may find yourself tempted to share it on Facebook as evidence of your wit and sophistication.

But hey, Ben’s able to laugh at himself, even when the jokes at his expense aren’t exactly Carlin-caliber.

Affleck has dealt with a lot of criticism over the years but it seems he couldn’t resist letting the dwebs of the Upper East Side know that they’re rubber and he’s bat-glue.

“@NewYorker I’m doing just fine. Thick skin bolstered by garish tattoos,” Affleck tweeted at the magazine today.

Ben knows you have to hit these nerds where it hurts – right in the vocabulary.

Very perspicacious of you, homey.