Well, Happy New Year all. I
don't know about you, but I brought in the New Year with a bash. Apparently.
According to my sources, there were fireworks going on at the time, but all
6,000 people at the Baltimore Inner Harbor were watching some idiot dancing
around to the beat of a song that was apparently only in his own head with his
shirt torn off in 20 degree weather while being squirted with whipped cream.
And these are my "close" friends. Thank God ZBT wasn't there. I'd
have definitely been in the Harbor. Well, it's a shame I didn't have a
quote-a-member or something with me then, because I remember that a lot of
funny things were said, but I can't really physically remember any of them. And
Good Joe wasn't writing them down for me this time. He was somewhat preoccupied
himself.
Well, I don't know how many times I'm going to be
able to use my dad in a quote, because I'm only home for a week. We happened to
be talking about stupid art too, and any quote involving my dad and social
commentary about the deterioration of modern art is definitely a great way to
kick off the year. We were talking specifically about Jackson Pollack. Now for
those of you plebeians out there who don't know the mockery that is associated
with his name (and trust me, you're better off), he is the guy who splatters
paint on a canvas and calls it art. It looks like one of those things that you
can do yourself at a carnival and take it home for a dollar and a chili dog
wrapper. Well, he was telling me about one of his friends who came in the video
store and started talking about an exhibit of his work that she was just at...
Quote Of the Day 1/4/99
"She told me how great his stuff was and how it inspired her to write
again. I would think it would inspire you to like... clean up."
-My dad, the underground self-made art critic
You laugh, but after a Dali exhibit, ma and I came home to find all the clocks
in the house piled on a frying pan in the kitchen (it's an art joke, you
wouldn't understand).
24 and not quite dead yet,
The Extendinator XXIV.
Still Standing Right Here...
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