Dear Andy Warhol: You've Got The Wrong Can

After much searching of soul, mind, and heart, I have finally understood why I will never be recognized as a great visual artist. I am too thin.

Not long ago, Luke Buckham and I (see comments thread) speculated on what conditions would need to be met to criminalize the eating of meat. Perhaps both of us should have turned to PETA for help; I turned to the problem of global warming for some assistance, but the payoff was so much gas.

Now comes THIS brilliant work of creativity, this burst of genius, to make me doubt NOT whether eating meat should be criminalized, but whether I shall ever eat a meatball again.

Remember, you can't be a cannibal if you are eating art. And Andy Warhol should have realized that art is NOT in a Campbell's soup can; it's in the artist's own can. In other words, art is not on the vanguard; it's very much a rear-guard kind of thing.

At last, for once I can say that a work of art is not solely abominable; it is also abdominal.

Here's real art: Me sticking my middle finger down my throat. Now, that's genius.

Peace.

©Bill Gnade 2o07/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.