Monthly Archives: July 2015
This stunning fountain wins for my favorite piece at this year’s Art Fair; titled “Gutter Helmet”- (evocative, no?) It is a merciless commentary on modern social structure and the inherent hopelessness of the human condition.
…And touché to Uncle Mikey, who mocks and baits me by willfully misreading this progressive piece as a bourgeois endorsement of Reaganomics. As if. Obviously, that’s exactly the message that the artist expects from the plebian, elephant-ear-anesthetized attendees of this so-called “Art Fair,” which is, as greater minds than mine have observed, neither “Art” nor “Fair.”
Emerging from a mysterious tube, both phallic and representative of the birth canal, the water (the PEOPLE) are individual streams & droplets, but transparent, amorphous, almost invisible- who can tell Lithuanian from Mongolian, Zoroastrian from Esperanto, transtranstransgender from one-who-likes-only-cake? What does it matter? Impelled helplessly now as one joined mass down the asphalt shingle of life (abrasive, impervious and comprised primarily of petroleum products) the ride seems thrilling at first, until we realize it only goes downhill- and there’s no stopping! The leaves, also comprised of water, but nourished in rich soil and sunshine, represent the ruling class. They are not pulled down with the masses but cling greedily to the surface of life, as we rush down, down into- the gutter- arriving finally at this hidden, low strata, shielded not only so that the leaves will not- CAN not- enter it, but shielded also so that the pathetic scene at the end is therein unseeable/untouchable as we inevitably continue to pour into it. The downspout below the gutter funnels the wasted remains of the people back into the mystery, behind a brick wall: unknowable. Does the water recycle and emerge again from the top? A Hindu would clearly see it that way, but an atheist would suspect it was straight down the drain from there.
She pretended a brief confusion, and replied, “Are you interested in our products, sir?”
A fist edition, no less. You know what’s great about Mickey Spillane?
1. His picture on the back of the book:
If I’d taken that picture, I’d label it “A Stewbum with a Gun.” He’s clearly toothless, The shirt is ill advised, he holds the gun without any real conviction.
2. His Signature.
3. Sometimes his titles are pretty good
4. That’s about it.
Ah, Nero Wolfe. And we can clearly see the difficulty that arises when one goes consorting with too many cooks. It is impressive the way he’s unruffled at the guy shooting him RIGHT IN THE CHEEK. No doubt he’s anesthetized by the bottle of lager he drinks before dropping off to sleep. You know what else is great about this cover?
Printed in 1966: She’s slightly younger than me. Merely $5.50 at Aunt Agatha’s. Peter O’Donnell was the writer of the Modesty Blaise comic strip, 1963-2001- This novelization follows O’Donnell’s script of the movie Modesty Blaise (1966), which script was heavily, heavily doctored to be campier and all 1960’s weird. He ended up writing 11 Modesty Blaise novels, a couple short story collections, and over 10,000 strips.