You know what one of the most awful things in the world is? Getting your ass kicked. Thankfully, I never have (and never will have) this problem.
You know what else sucks? Art. Yes, art. And when I say art, I’m talking about paintings and drawings and shit like that. Not music and movies. Music rules.
It’s all completely worthless. I mean, come on now. Art? Who really gives a shit? What good is it? It’s not. Art is completely useless.
But painting pictures is a way for an artist to express him/herself!
So? What the hell does it matter what some “artist” has to express? It doesn’t really. Especially if the person who did the painting describes his or her occupation simply as “artist.” That’s all you do? What a waste! Unless you’re doing something with your pictures, like making a cartoon about clowns who scare the shit out of kids at circuses, then your drawing is completely pointless.
I’m in college right now and I made the mistake of taking an art history class (my degree requires it, so I didn’t have much choice). So, I was thinking maybe this class would help me understand and appreciate art. And you know what? For the first time in my life, I was wrong. I have come to realize there is really nothing to appreciate about art. It’s all a bunch of inane bullshit. I hate every second of it. Sure, some of it looks good, but even when it looks nice it’s still pointless.
Now don’t get me wrong. I have no problem with people who like to draw and paint pictures in their spare time. That’s fine. It’s the people who “make art for a living” that piss me off. Worse yet are people who aspire to “be artists.” What the hell does that mean? You’re going to spend the rest of your life painting meaningless garbage and hoping to auction it off to some pompous, rich asshole who has nothing better to spend their money on. That’s what it fucking means.
I have an idea for a painting. It’s a painting in which you’re sitting there in your cold and empty one-person apartment overlooking the streets below with a bunch of pictures all over the place that you made and no one wants. Call it a self-portrait.
Fuck paintings. Fuck art. Fuck art history.
Speaking of shitty art, how about theater? There’s another degree that’s bound to lead you nowhere. Who gives two drops of bird shit about theater and plays?
This is for all of you theater majors: you’ll never be a movie star, you’ll never get on Broadway, and you’ll never be an accomplished playwright.
Unless you plan on teaching theater or something (in which case you’re an asshole), just change your plans right now because your degree in theater will get you nowhere.
Don’t act in plays and don’t go on stage unless you’re in a badass rock band (note: you’re not) because only the most easily amused people will be there to watch you. Don’t feel good about yourself when people show up to watch you either. They just have nothing better to do. And if you do act on stage or something, don’t bow when you’re done. The audience isn’t cheering FOR you, they’re cheering because your shitty performance is over and they can go home and do something worthwhile, like chew on rocks.
Art and “the arts” are a complete waste of time, space, and effort. Don’t ever get involved with this bullshit.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Sunday, February 11, 2007
R.I.P. Anna Nicole Smith
We are gathered here today,
To say goodbye.
We'll miss you every day,
Now that you've up and died.
Now I'm not going to pretend,
I'm not happy to see you go.
For you this is the end,
Well...later ho.
Yeah, that's my goodbye poem for Vickie Lynn Marshall, aka Anna Nicole Smith. I'm going to be completely honest: when I first found out Anna Nicole croaked, I was shocked. Then once the initial surprise wore off (not that I was saddened by the news, mind you), I realized something: good riddance. Come on everybody, let's hear it for Anna Nicole Smith: hip, hip, hooray!
You're such a heartless asshole! She just died and you're happy about it? How insensitive can you be?
Not insensitive enough. Oooh...another porn star/Playboy model down the drain. Big deal. That bitch was about as irreplaceable as her breasts, and equally as fake. Oh and a big HA HA to anyone who enjoyed those fun bags: they're probably melting away with the rest of Anna Nicole in the bowels of Hell right now. What a shame.
Why have I no sympathy for Vickie Lynn (which I think is a way better name than Anna Nicole)? Simple. She exemplified everything I hate about women: she was fake, shallow, vain, whorish, and worst of all, she gave the institution of marriage a big slap in the face when she married J. Howard Marshall (a man made rich from the oil industry; he was 89 years old at the time they were married). How is that a slap in the face of marriage? Marriage is supposed to be a showing of love and dedication of two individuals (I'm not specifying gender either so go eat nuts if you don't like it) who want to spend the rest of their lives together in holy matrimony. Contrary to what anyone tells you, Anna Nicole married him for his money.
But she may have actually loved him!
Right. Two problems with that theory:
1.) She was 26, he was 89- that's a 63 year difference for those of you who can't do math. In perspective, that's a man approaching the age of retirement, marrying a newborn. Tell me what the hell a 26 year old could see in an 89 year old? Wrinkles and a worn out penis maybe, but more importantly, a bottomless wallet.
2.) Women don't love.
Anna Nicole Smith married an 89 year old billionaire for his money and his money only: for that alone the bitch deserved to die and I'm thankful she did.
On another note I do really feel sorry for her 5-month old daughter. Poor kid is going to be stuck living her life in the shadow of, and in the absence of her mother. I have no clue who the child's father is, but hopefully it's someone who can pick up the slack and be a parent to the little girl. Then again, in order to get her pregnant, he must have taken it upon himself to stick himself into that hollowed-out cave-gina of hers. Oh well. There's always adoption.
To say goodbye.
We'll miss you every day,
Now that you've up and died.
Now I'm not going to pretend,
I'm not happy to see you go.
For you this is the end,
Well...later ho.
Yeah, that's my goodbye poem for Vickie Lynn Marshall, aka Anna Nicole Smith. I'm going to be completely honest: when I first found out Anna Nicole croaked, I was shocked. Then once the initial surprise wore off (not that I was saddened by the news, mind you), I realized something: good riddance. Come on everybody, let's hear it for Anna Nicole Smith: hip, hip, hooray!
You're such a heartless asshole! She just died and you're happy about it? How insensitive can you be?
Not insensitive enough. Oooh...another porn star/Playboy model down the drain. Big deal. That bitch was about as irreplaceable as her breasts, and equally as fake. Oh and a big HA HA to anyone who enjoyed those fun bags: they're probably melting away with the rest of Anna Nicole in the bowels of Hell right now. What a shame.
Why have I no sympathy for Vickie Lynn (which I think is a way better name than Anna Nicole)? Simple. She exemplified everything I hate about women: she was fake, shallow, vain, whorish, and worst of all, she gave the institution of marriage a big slap in the face when she married J. Howard Marshall (a man made rich from the oil industry; he was 89 years old at the time they were married). How is that a slap in the face of marriage? Marriage is supposed to be a showing of love and dedication of two individuals (I'm not specifying gender either so go eat nuts if you don't like it) who want to spend the rest of their lives together in holy matrimony. Contrary to what anyone tells you, Anna Nicole married him for his money.
But she may have actually loved him!
Right. Two problems with that theory:
1.) She was 26, he was 89- that's a 63 year difference for those of you who can't do math. In perspective, that's a man approaching the age of retirement, marrying a newborn. Tell me what the hell a 26 year old could see in an 89 year old? Wrinkles and a worn out penis maybe, but more importantly, a bottomless wallet.
2.) Women don't love.
Anna Nicole Smith married an 89 year old billionaire for his money and his money only: for that alone the bitch deserved to die and I'm thankful she did.
On another note I do really feel sorry for her 5-month old daughter. Poor kid is going to be stuck living her life in the shadow of, and in the absence of her mother. I have no clue who the child's father is, but hopefully it's someone who can pick up the slack and be a parent to the little girl. Then again, in order to get her pregnant, he must have taken it upon himself to stick himself into that hollowed-out cave-gina of hers. Oh well. There's always adoption.
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