Eat shit and die.
With that out of the way, I can begin to write about a recent event. A lot has been happening (not forgetting the aunties so far up my ass that I can barely breathe) and most of it is eventful. They aren’t going to pay us much from what I’ve heard. Whenever a budget has to be cut, let it be the education budget. Of course we’re just losers and we waste people’s time and money. Education? It’s hardly a priority. Teachers? Oh man, why do we pay them at all? Let them starve. They don’t do anything constructive anyway. Besides, they’re idiots who went to school. They have degrees. A degree is a degree even if it’s fake so why did they bother anyway?
I’ll find out at the end of this month how much money I’ve been forced to give for the floods. I have nothing against helping the people of my country. But this isn’t right. This isn’t my choice. This is by force. Oh well, what can I do anyway? I’m just a loser who went to school and I try to help other people go to school and we’re all idiots anyway.
Don’t they realize that education is our salvation?
Anyway, now on to arty farts. I went to an opening with amazing work and a dinner with mostly amazing people after. You do realize that there are afterparties to these things. However, there are always a few artier than thou types around. After a measure of inebriation, they tend to get unbearable. I swear I don’t get a single word of what they say. Somebody talked about donuts and the meaning of life and it made absolutely no sense whatsoever. There is something very wrong with these artier than thou types. Perhaps, I should explain. These arty types do not do any real work. They have weird government jobs though. But they haven’t made any art in years. They speak with great conviction about absolutely useless bullshit. This bullshit can range from the ordinary to complete fantasy. They never face the harder aspects of life because idealistically, our minds hang around in outer space and the world below is too crude for their sensitive “arty” existence. Such people often make me vomit in my mouth.
Surprisingly, they zone in on people like me. Just like the aunties, they realize that they can give me a lot of grief. And that satisfies their weird expectations from life somewhat. So they talk shit and I vomit in my mouth over and over. They analyze artwork in a way that makes it completely cryptic and elitist even when it isn’t. They frighten the laymen into submission. They make people hate art and run away screaming (while they’re vomiting in their mouths I bet). Who cares about their high-handed interpretations anyway? Who cares if they think the meaning of life is a donut?
Alas. I whine and whine. I should tell them to shove it and leave. Unfortunately, I haven’t yet. But soon I will have no choice.