Fumbling My Way Through Life, Episode 2
by Noise Pollution
You know something that irritates me? People who think that any creation that vaguely looks like a vagina is art.
There’s no real reason for me to hate this. It’s just… It seems like a such a common thing among stuck-up art people to love, and it’s such a low bar for art. It’s so easy to do: Make a painting of a tree where a knothole is kind of vaj-esque, and then proclaim how it depicts the secret power of a woman in the modern era or something like that. It’s so fucking cliche. And yet I find snobby artsy people heaping praise on those kinds of works constantly.
Find a better metaphor, guys. If one day dick-pics become more than just gross and are considered expressions of a man’s true erotic love in a world determined to keep passion hidden away, you’ll either find me homeless in an alley vomiting up blood and proclaiming the end of the world, or I’ll be at the top of the art scene because knowing what people’s naughty bits look like is apparently all it takes to be artistic.
And don’t get me wrong. All my life I’ve sort of wished I could be a part of that stuck-up art scene. I just want to be a little more Richard Hell and a little less Patti Smith, to make a music metaphor. Though if you don’t know who those people are, I’ve only muddied up what I’m trying to say even further. And even then, Patti Smith is far more talented than those vaj-tree artists I alluded to previously, and Richard Hell is actually kind of a deep cut, so the metaphor barely works in the first place. But I wanted to seem cool and knowledgable and stuck-up and you really should know who those guys are anyway. So yeah. Here. That’s half the work done for you already.
Be glad you learned something from this. If I didn’t make that allusion to old punk music, you would’ve come away from this with nothing but the term vaj-tree, and that would’ve been a truly awful turn of events.