Posts Tagged ‘ happiness is a warm gun ’

panty doodles \/\/ an interview with lucy white

December 5, 2009
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panty doodles \/\/ an interview with lucy white

Lucy White grew up in a house with a lawn and a mother who took care of the house and father who took care of the lawn. These might be the perfect conditions for producing a laid back landscapist, but they didn’t. Lucy White’s politically centered pop art has zero to do with capturing the ephemeral beauty of the changing seasons, and everything to do with sex, violence, and commodities. Lucy White’s aesthetic is bubbly like soda pop and hot like a bullet. She makes thongs with cheeky prints of female artists on them, and (sometimes sentimental) portraits of handguns. She uses bright, hot, and vivid colors and applies her paint using band aids. When I first saw her work, I really connected to its blunt force seriality and sly references to current events. lucy’s panty doodles I met Lucy on Facebook, which seems apropos. She happily engaged with our theme of boredom, and sent us some pics of what she does when she’s bored. It turns out that Lucy is a compulsive listmaker and napkin doodler. But these fidgety meanderings, instead of being left behind on the bar, evolve into extended projects. I was really excited to talk to

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dogface boy \/\/ cute baby bunnies vs. big ugly rednecks

November 27, 2009
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dogface boy \/\/ cute baby bunnies vs. big ugly rednecks

“…The law-abiding citizen is entitled to own a rifle, pistol, or shotgun. The right, put simply, shall not be infringed…” ” SAD.” me. D ll ll Disgustipated ” TOOL “ And the angel of the lord came unto me. snatching me up from my place of slumber, and took me on High, and higher still until we moved through the spaces betwixt the air itself. and he brought me into a Vast farmland of our own midwest. and as we descended, cries of impending doom arose from the Soil. one thousand, nay, a million voices full of fear. and terror possessed me then. and I begged: ’angel of the lord, what are these tortured screams? ’ and the angel said unto me: ’these are the cries Of the carrots. the cries of the carrot. you see, reverend maynard, tomorrow is harvest day, and to Them, it is the holocaust.’ and I sprang from my slumber drenched in sweat with the tears of one million Terrified brothers and roared: ’hear me now, I have seen the light. they have a consciousness! they Have a life! they have a soul. damn you! let the rabbits wear glasses. save our brothers. can I

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art-destruction as holiday gift \/\/ warhol stocking stuffer

November 26, 2009
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art-destruction as holiday gift \/\/ warhol stocking stuffer

Books make great holiday gifts. They’re not usually very big or expensive, though they can be both. And they can signal a regard for the receiver’s interests, intelligence, and aesthetic sense.  This sort of multi-level communication is very much in vogue these days. The Philosophy of Andy Warhol from A to B and Back Again (1975) is maybe the easiest book to give, at least in my library. Everyone loves it.  So many people that it almost cuts down on the specialness of the book as a gift.  Except for that it is an incredibly intimate piece of writing.  Not exactly in the sense offered by the latest Kitty Kelley biography, which imagines the uncovering of salacious gossip as some kind of final or conclusive knowledge about its protagonist.  And Warhol loved every porny detail, don’t get me wrong. The thing is this is a “philosophy”: a warm, funny, charismatic, and full view of the world, its workings and its workers. The chapters alternate between a transcript of a telephone dialogue between “A” and “B,” and loose collections of anecdotes and aphorisms. Both genres are longtime staples of philosophical writing: Plato and Rousseau wrote dialogues, Pascal and Nietzsche wrote aphorisms. In

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guns, ammo! voltage! straight jackets!

November 24, 2009
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guns, ammo! voltage! straight jackets!

Working out is a proven anti-depressant and happiness booster, yet Prozac still seemingly reigns intrepid king of attempting to propagate endorphins.   “Endorphins work as “natural pain relievers.” !!!!!  Forget any kinda pill!! Popping pillz is much more costly than strapping on running lace-ups and taking to the streets, yet it’s easier, a real fast method.  Warm guns produce flushed cheeks, flat abs, sex appeal. Happiness is a fucking warm gun, people! Exercise =Sex appeal = sex = happiness. Anti-ds= funky brainwaves= happyhappyjoyimsoexcited demeanors + decrease in libido = loss of sex + she/he’s freakily excited = sadness Which equation is more appealing?  Duh. Sex is so open-ended too.  There are the many fetishes which spill forth from our extensive human genomes.  Sex for Furry-lovers, sex for people who enjoy only themselves, sex for moms, sex for grandfathers, sex for exhibitionists, sex for nuns, sex for orange juice-addicts, sex for people who like being in little booths in Chinatown with a woman in pleather whipping them, sex for accountants who only get off during tax season… We all could/can be happy.  All it might take is a little flexing, heavy breathing, spandex, water bottles, dedication.

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joy and gladness are an exothermic projectile-firing weapon

November 24, 2009
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joy and gladness are an exothermic projectile-firing weapon

Mighty and erect is this Will of mine, this Pyramid of fire whose summit is lost in Heaven. Upon it have I burned the corpse of my desires. Mighty and erect is this Φαλλοσ of my Will. The seed thereof is That which I have borne within me from Eternity; and it is lost within the Body of Our Lady of the Stars. I am not I; I am but an hollow tube to bring down Fire from Heaven. Mighty and marvellous is this Weakness, this Heaven which draweth me into Her Womb, this Dome which hideth, which absorbeth, Me. This is The Night wherein I am lost, the Love through which I am no longer I. —Aleister Crowley, “The Gun-Barrel”

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this week on the avant guardian \/\/ happiness is a warm gun

November 23, 2009
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this week on the avant guardian \/\/ happiness is a warm gun

When I feel my finger on your trigger, I know nobody can do me no harm. Images by Geliografic via Wicked Halo

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