if children are to learn anything about the rich

its that they dont know good art

forget studying science and math and electronic engineering. throw away your physics and biology and finance books, kids with dreams of driving fancy cars should learn from history and the present. the rich will buy anything.

never lay down your crayons. learn to mix oils. get fitted for berets.

not only will women disrobe and pose for you, but the rich will fork over $25-$30 million for paintings like the one above. and the best part about all of this: you dont have to die first.

back in the day you had to go crazy, cut off your ear, paint soup cans, croak, etc., but nowadays you just have to bust. so to speak.

besides the buckets of cash and naked babes, probably the best part of being an artist is you can get away with murder. you can dress like shit, you can smell like shit, your apartment can look shitty, you can paint on walls pretty much anywhere, you can act like a mad man, and you can even be broke most of your life and people will just sigh and think youre some sort of romantic.

poor plumbers dont get that sorta love.

who doesnt wanna wear overalls and splatter paint on the floor of an eastcoast farmhouse while sipping jd? who doesnt wanna sit around a parisian flat knocking out sunflowers? and who doesnt wanna sign and number barack + hope posters and just watch the money flow in?

paint, people. fuck accounting. fuck real estate. fuck dentistry. art = life. insanity = profit. big fat naked chicks = gazillions.

it has always been that way, it will always be this way, amen.

maybe its because of the internet and blogs

but bathroom walls aint what they used to be

except in Kuwait and Afghanistan where reporter Steve Featherstone was able to photograph the secret words of US military personnel who scrawled their negative feelings about the president, the war, and their enemies on the walls of the latrines.

Featherstone submitted some of the photographs of the walls to A Public Space for its January 2008 issue. And you can see more of the graffiti in this month’s Walrus magazine.

h/t MeFi

anna kournikova wrote me today

usc cheerleaders

but f that ho

– im still mad at her for blowing me off on my birthday and she sorta made up for it by writing me a super hot email today which she told me to look at People dot com where she said that she read my blog post about ashley and her upcoming nuptuals and told the gossip rag “i will never get married“. but she still has boy band germs so she can step.

– the new york mets are gigantic quitters. they had a chance to be cool by rickrolling themselves for their 8th inning (!) song, but now theyre giving up on the 80s hit.

– now heres how you get people to vote for you: Barack Hussein Obama claims he would immediately review any crimes in the Bush white house if elected president. fuck gold, if that happens im investing in popcorn.

– yes there was a school that caught fire in uganda that killed a bunch of children and some adults. no our girl chris was not at said school.

– remember that marilyn monroe sex tape – defamer convinces us tonight that its probably just a big fat hoax. but i still have my fingers crossed!

– wednesday is the LA Times’ biggest blogger’s birthday. why dont you wish the big fella a happy bday?

– did you know you can turn your iTouch into an iPhone and make free (or super cheap) phone calls? the internet never stops giving.

– reason #4578 why im glad i didnt go to berkeley

– not that *i* can afford these cars, but it’s nice to know that there are still some classic muscle cars that cost less than $25k even if theyre in excellent condition

it was close to a hundred degrees this weekend here in LA

basically it was the first day of summer.

the good people of hollywood got to sleep with their windows open for the first time in a very long time. so long that even the cars were able to park all day in the shade for free.

the boys got to run around with no shirts on and the girls got to wear those micro miniskirts that seem to remain in fashion thank the lord. and the homeless pushed their worldly possessions right there down the middle of sunset.

it was so hot that coca cola sent vans of people to santee alley to give out free bottles of coke to the folks who were buying illegal dvds

and counterfeit clothes and unlawful bunnies in little plastic cages filled with rabies and soon-to-be dashed dreams. or dinner.

it was so hot that girls that you arent even making love with will call you up and say lets go to the beach and when you pick them up they dont have any beach clothes and you ask them oh are we skinny dipping and they pull out a flask of love and say maaaaaaybe and you think yes im so gonna get lucky thank you unreal heatwave of sex and you picker up in the palisades

and you drive through santa monica and you let her take pictures of palm trees out the window and you make it to venice and youre about to park and becuase shes basically anorexic shes already wasted from the rum and she says psssst

and you say que?

and she says lets just go to your casa.

and you say but my casa is messy-a

and she says lets just go to the snooty fox then

and you say baby you carry around hand sanitizer in your coach bag you dont wanna go to the snooty fox

and she pulls you close at a red light in culver city and whispers in your ear and convinces you to find the snooty fox in ten words or less.

and you drive with the top down listening to satellite radio and this girl knows every song of the big 80s station even though she was born in the middle of the much maligned era

and she asks you to drive thru the taco bell drive thru before you get to the 405 so you do as youre told and she whispers something in your ear that convinces you to get to a little more swanky hotel than the snooty fox in five words or less

and she eats her chalupa while lookin at ya

and by the time you are about to valet

shes passed out and snoring

and say what you want, but life is so not boring.