I cleaned every damn photo out of my phone today. I'm trying to get organized during my down time this Summer so I am sharing some mad beauty and wicked AHT with you all. This group is all trippy and shit because I just so happened to discover my psychedelic camera settings while we were walking around and looking at Hindu statues.
I like these Hindu Gods. They have lots of arms, beatific smiles, and Lord knows they love their joorey, just like I do. So, that pretty much exhausted my fascination with solarizing and sepia toning things. Hey! You know who should have done that? Weiner! He should have solarized his penis before he sent it, or photographed it in negative. The hackers might have thought it was something artsy and boring, and I wouldn't have to listen to people talk about how a guy should resign over dick pictures.
More art/pop culture comparisons after the jump.
Oh my GOD. It's Etruscan Kathy Griffin, pre-surgery and everything!
Man/Boy painting. Really time consuming early porn. You just know the artist jacked it to this guy. Come ON.
Grapes, check. Wine sack, check. Instrument, check. Huge libido, check. Basically my dream guy.
Drinking, and more drinking. Even the baby tipples in between teat sucking. I bet I would too if I lived during the middle ages.
I love how most art revolves around wine, religion and sex. Pre-TV and internet, what do you supposed they talked about? The same gossip we talk about now. Who's a whore, who is sick, who cheats who out of what, and how much money you have after selling sacks of flour from your farm or shoeing horses for the richer guys. SAME EXACT SHIT.
Degas' dancer.
Have you noticed that once you've seen a certain work of art so many times, it becomes so commonplace and ubiquitous that you don't even admire it anymore? I feel this way about most Impressionism and everything Degas. I had to shake my head, clear my thoughts and look at her with new eyes. She looks like Eloise's spiritual ancestor, no? The thrown back, almost defiant face, and the gangly limbs. All that is missing is a flooded Plaza Hotel and an army of frazzled maids.
Look! Nighttime at the Little House on the Prairie. How sweet!
Okay, WHAT?
Holy crap, that's a lot of retribution over some candy stolen from Oleson's Mercantile. Maybe they were looking for Nellie and went to the wrong house? God, I hated that chick. She was a frontier Jill Zarin to my pre-teen sensibilities. No lie! She was always bragging about her more expensive dolls and flaming with jealousy over every damn thing that wasn't hers.
See? Nothing changes.
Jumbo Bellino's dream girl. No brains and no fingers in his meager pocketbook.
Tamra's pores.
Awwww. The puppy won't leave his dying master. So heartwarming.
Kind of how Miss Andy won't leave the damn housewives alone. I really wish he would recast and stop semi-scripting these shows. Everyone sees through it and every single reality show is suffering because of it. As soon as he started bastardizing the formula, it started going down the tubes. I can't even stand to watch it anymore, and I am scared to death to see what's happened to Beverly Hills. They need to retune their entire programming over there, and I'm pretty sure I'm not alone in that thought. I have so many questions for that guy, so many.
Like, what's Tamra's vagina doing in ancient Persia?
Our next installment will involve comparing Cleveland art to Project Runway winners and Celebrity Rehab alumni. Why not?
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