The War of Art

OK, I’m up and running (sort of): The short version is I tripped last July and cracked my tailbone which released shingles virus, causing my lower orifices to cease function. While inserting a catheter, an ER nurse punched a hole in my prostate and gave me a bladder infection. So there I was: nearly struck down in the prime of my manhood, I contemplated stalking the dark streets with an axe, searching to rid the world of incompetent medics. I ultimately didn’t, but had time to reflect. I didn’t write it down because I couldn’t think, sit, or stand. This below is a summary of head trips remembered flawlessly after 6 months.

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There are people who strive and fight to leave their mark on the world. Wars driven by scrabbling politicians disguised as patriots eager to impress perceived peers and take slaves and resources for their own personal fame. But the mothers of Ramses, Hitler, or Putin, would be outraged to have their names associated.

This seems odd from a moral perspective, maybe the current meaning of defining words has changed, or maybe they’re just plain biased in favor of winners. Lots of Germans supported the Nazi party because of the way it was presented, same thing for Trump & Putin. Winners write history and propaganda gets a jump on the process.

Later on, the persistence of survivors selects for the values of the next generation who followed the proven path. Most sane people prefer to fish and drink beer … until the tribe upstream puts in a dam. Then it’s feud or intermarriage.

The War of Art

So: deep in the wilds of darkest genesis there were 3 dudes and a babe.
The babe spake: To whichever one of you can beat best in providing the manner to which I am accustomed I shall grant my totally not-dubious favors.
The Dudes said: OK. Like, ‘the hell does that mean?
The Babe said: Oh, you know, something nice, I’ll leave it up to you.

So Dude 1, inspired by Babe’s perfect symmetry, commenced to construct a perfectly symmetrical house of straw. And she was delighted.
Then Dude 2, likewise inspired and improving somewhat on the efforts of Dude 1, built a perfectly symmetrical house of sticks and dimension lumber with a composition roof that didn’t leak. And she was even more delighted.
When Dude 3 saw what was happening, he forced a hostile takeover of the finance company and foreclosed on Dudes 1 & 2 obliging them into capitalist servitude. “If you wish to pay off your debts, gain independence, and find true love, you must build a mansion for me, the likes of which Caligula would never dare to dream (much less Trump, Putin, Saddam, or the Pope). You are now my paintbrush and I am the artist. You may create so long as M’lady and I are not offended”

Anything orderly including Jackson Pollock and battlefield deployment is art. The meaning of life is finding order that will impress babes. Thus does art underlie the expression of society.

How about that, Sugarcakes?

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