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This Gentleman Needs to Get His Ass Kicked**: UNFUN WITH TEH INTERNETS

23 Jul

July 23, 2012

While compiling last week’s Fun With Teh Internets, I came across a story so annoying, so stupid, that just thinking about it really cheeses me off.

So what if I have not a single artistic bone in my body? My stick figures are crooked, I’m tone deaf, and I can’t fingerpaint correctly.  Even the elephants are more artistic than me http://www.elephantartgallery.com/  So what? At least I know art when I see it.

This is art:                     

This is art:

 

 This is art:

 

And even this is art (when done by your pre-schooler)

 

 

Ladies and gentlemen……this is most definitely NOT art:

http://www.dnainfo.com/new-york/20120705/upper-east-side/hamburglar-artist-throws-gnawed-cheeseburgers-at-people-from-bike

Before I even begin, I need to note the hilarity of this site putting the skepticism quotes around Hamburglar instead of artist.

Now let’s all just take a minute to let the breathtaking ass-hattery on display here sink in and make an impact:

This so-called “artist” throws partially-eaten cheeseburgers at people as he bikes on by.

Now I’m just a simple man with simple values, but THAT SURE AS F**K DOESN’T SOUND LIKE ART TO ME! 

Let’s dig in slightly further into this:

The bizarre performance art — “Second Deceit aka Free Cheeseburgers,” as the piece is formally called — kicked off at the McDonald‘s on Third Avenue near East 85th Street Tuesday morning, when Hill stocked up on 20 cheeseburgers for $32.44, bit a chunk out of each one, and re-wrapped them with Scotch tape.

Hill doesn’t even swallow the bites of cheeseburger that he takes, instead spitting the burger bits into a bag.

“It upsets my stomach,” he said of the burger.

You know what upsets my stomach? IDIOT HIPSTERS WHO THINK THEY’RE DEEP DOING STUPID SH*T LIKE THIS. I HATE HIPSTERS. I HATE HIPSTERS. GOD DO I HATE HIPSTERS. And they’re always wearing those !*$#!^@ porkpie hats like they’re so cool. Look you morons, porkpie hats are NOT cool. You know when the last time a porkpie hat was cool was?  THIS is when: 

The French Connection! AWESOME film!

Sorry guys, but it will be a cold day in hell before you’re even a third as cool as Popeye Doyle.  HE GOT SO BLIND  DRUNK HE ALLOWED A HOOKER TO CUFF HIM TO THE BED WITH HIS OWN COP CUFFS. That’s rolling hardcore my friends.

Anyway, back to this “artist”. This article helpfully provides a picture for me to mock: 

Leaving aside the stupid costume, let’s do a comparison. REAL man, and pretentious d-bag hipsters: 

REAL MAN

PRETENTIOUS D-BAG HIPSTERS

UGH. It’s like the beta-male exhibit in the monkey house. Now let’s try another experiment. Take the above and compare them to….

 

Draw your own conclusions.
Anyway, moving on….

A couple more choice excerpts:

This time, Hill said he wanted to “do the complete opposite and just be a villain.” He wanted his actions to be one of those “little things that messes up your whole day,” he said.

This is what art is now? Some jagoff just wanting to do something to mess up your day?  I don’t get it. He’s got time to bike around doing this (and other examples of a-hole art, from his web site, which I won’t even go into) – who has the time for this kind of garbage nowadays?? That said, he fails even at this. Something like this wouldn’t mess up my whole day. It would be a few seconds bother before I arrived at work and my boss chewed me out for whatever project I screwed up. Now THAT ruins my whole day.

Hill said he didn’t want to do the project in Harlem, where he lives, because he felt throwing burgers in a lower-income neighborhood would have different connotations than doing it on the Upper East Side, which is home to among New York City’s wealthiest zip codes. (He also tries to avoid throwing burgers to homeless people, he added.)

Heh……yeah, I bet he doesn’t want to do the project in Harlem. The “different” connotations would involve him running for his life. And instead of throwing ruined food at the homeless, why not give them some untainted burgers? YOU’RE RUINING FOOD WHILE PEOPLE ARE HUNGRY.  What a stupid, selfish coward.

Drivers, on the other hand, whizzing by his bike, often shout for a burger. Hill, however, is too afraid to give them anything. “I don’t want to do that because they can chase me down with their car,” he said

Oh man, that would be sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet. Yeah dude, please try these cars out:

 

I wish I had ANY of these cars, especially the one with the death laser. Oh man, I could have some fun with that. I’d never be stuck in traffic or have to look for a parking spot!

Anyway, here’s my favorite quote (taken from a Guardian write up of this dope)

Thursday night was Hill’s eighth performance in the series and he had a particularly despondent attitude towards the whole project: “No one’s really coming out to see it and the people who do see it don’t know what it is. It sort of feels kind of pointless in a way, doesn’t it?”

Pointless in a way? Buddy, IT IS POINTLESS IN EVERY WAY.  It’s as pointless as your life I imagine. But hey, if you’re feeling down about your art….. http://www.facebook.com/pages/a-very-rare-Mary-Worth-in-which-she-has-advised-a-friend-to-commit-suicide/103761656326275  (There’s a Simpson’s reference for everything!)

So this is what some people now consider art. I guarantee you 50 years from now, nobody will be flocking to museums to see the cheeseburger throwing exhibit. And if they do….well, watch out for me, because I’ll be there to break it all up with my laser car.

SIDE NOTE:  Not only was Popeye Doyle portrayed so awesomely by the great Gene Hackman, but he was also later played in a TV movie (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0091780/)  by another of my favorite actors ever: …. Ed “Al Bundy” Oneill:

How awesome is that??!

** Not that I should have to, but it keeping with interweb etiquette, I have to note that I don’t actually endorse or advocate any violence against this guy.  He needs a good ass-kicking, but let’s all leave it to someone else to administer it, m’kay?

 

UPDATE: Added by express request of Mr. B……….I present Hipster Fat Guy!

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My Memories of Little Red Riding Hood

19 Jul

July 19, 2012

Once upon a time there was a little girl. Amazing, right? Like who would think that in all of history there was ever a little girl and believe it or not, she lived in the woods. Nobody ever lived in a rundown apartment over a liquor shop back then.  Seriously, a little girl who lives in the woods in a fairy tale is like leaves on a tree. Big deal. I can look out my window and see leaf after leaf. I can probably also look out my window and see little girl after little girl but I won’t. A man my age who looks out his window at little girls is a sure bet to wind up on the sex offender registry.

Anyway, this particular little girl was named Little Red Riding Hood. That may be hard to believe but there was actually a time long ago when it was common to name people after items of clothing. Her mother was named Plaid Socks and her father was named Old Denim Overalls. She also had a cousin named Pants with Stinky Brown Stain on Rear.

Little Red Riding Hood, whose last name was Schwartz, lived in the woods. This is not the same woods as the one in Snow White or Pinocchio, though they were all run by the same management company. In fact there were about 30 different woods and in each the ogres were threatening to go on strike. Little Red was a cute and sweet young girl. In fact she was too cute and sweet. She was so sweet you couldn’t stand her. Little Red was like one of those cute kids in a Stephen King novel whom you couldn’t stand but you’d keep reading because you knew she’d get killed in some horrible way, like the baby in Pet Semetary. But not only was Little Red cute and sweet, she was also kind and generous and good-hearted. Everyone hated her. Even Mother Theresa once slapped her.

Here is a typical page from her daily planner:

-wake up
-milk the cows
-massage the cows
-dress the cows in pretty dresses

And that’s just before 8am.

On this particular day Red took some time out of her busy schedule to bring a basket of food to her sick grandmother. Grandma lived even deeper in the woods, all alone. Great idea for a frail old woman, right? Anyway, she was sick so Red decided to bring her enough food to last a week. I would have brought her a Medic Alert bracelet and some aspirin too.

The woods were full of wolves. Big, hungry, ravenous, sexually repressed wolves. What? Didn’t think I’d go there? Fairy tales are full of hidden sexual imagery.  Think Rumplestiltskin wasn’t freaky like Chris Brown? Yeah, some wolf beat up Rihanna too.

So there was Little Red Riding Hood, skipping along through the woods singing along to Gotye when just when she got to “But you treat me like a stranger and that feels so rough” (yes that song is that old. Gotye stole it from a German folk tale) a wolf leaped out of the trees and demanded “open the door and let me in or I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house in!” Clearly he was in the wrong place. Seeing his mistake he politely apologized and left.

No sooner had he left than another wolf leapt out and demanded the picnic basket. Back then wolves would wait in line for a shot at a picnic basket. He snarled. He showed his fangs. He waved his claws. His fur bristled, his teeth glistened, even his busy tail was somehow menacing.

Little Red Riding Hood smiled and, being so sweet and obnoxiously good-natured, gave him the basket, kissed the wolf on the snout, and turned around and skipped back home, singing Lady Gaga all the way. And poor granny? She was still starving.

Later, the wolf took the basket back home to his den. Lair? Nest? Where do wolves live anyway? The point is, he ripped open the basket and found it full of nothing but Ensure, Metamucil, and more adult diapers than you would expect. After all, Granny wasn’t about to digest a T-bone steak at her age. This did nothing to slake the wolf’s appetite. He trashed the basket but he kept the diapers. The wolf was getting on in years, you know.

The next day the wolf decided to get even with Red. He’d guzzled a week’s worth of Granny’s Ensure and went into body failure. He showed up on Grandma’s doorstep and rang the bell. He claimed to be selling subscriptions to Vibe magazine. Granny wasn’t interested and didn’t open the door. The wolf decided that being sneaky was getting him nowhere so he jumped through the window and ate her. Honestly, he’s a wolf. Why didn’t he do that to begin with?

After completing various good deeds, like washing a leper’s feet and knitting scarves for bald sheep, Little Red Riding Hood Schwartz once again brought a basket to Grandma’s house. She knocked on the door and a strange, high-pitched growl that would fool absolutely no one but this silly kid said “come on in, the door is open.” 

She went in and there, in the inky shadows, was what looked like a wolf in Granny’s bed. See? I told you fairy tales were full of sexual imagery. Let me lay this out for you: The wolf was trying to lure the girl into bed. There’s a reason why men who hit on every woman in sight are called wolves.

Meanwhile, how dumb is Red? Be realistic, would you be fooled if you saw a dog in bed instead of a human being? Of course not. Even if your dog could talk and looked cute in a sweater you’d knit her, you’d still recognize that it’s a dog. So what was Little Red Riding Hood’s problem? Sheesh. I think she needed glasses. You know what comes next.

“My Grandma, what big ears you have!”
“The better to hear you my dear.”
“My Grandma, what big eyes you have!”
“The better to see you, my dear.”
“My Grandma, what big teeth you have!”
“Oh screw this shit!” And the wolf leaped out of the bed and tore Little Red Riding Hood to pieces.

A passing lumberjack heard Little Red Riding Hood’s screams and came to rescue her. Guess what? The wolf ate him too.

The moral of the story? A wolf will eat you. Avoid wolves.

———————–

Can you stand more?

Read My Memories of Cinderella here.

Read My Memories of Snow White here.

Read My Memories of The Boy Who Cried Wolf here.

Read My Memories of Pinocchio here

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