Happiness

The Scene: the media, the sheer industry of it, a drama, a machine.

You can never build the drama up enough, there’s never enough drama, there’s only more, drama on top of drama on top of drama. And we all take part, we all partake.

Journalism, for instance. Journalism is a moderately interesting exercise, sometimes with a dash or emdash of sensibility sprinkled near the end of the dispatch that may or may not conceivably be interpreted by the intelligent reader as enlightened.

Trump, for instance. Trump fucked up. He was spooked by a Democrat, otherwise he would have been elected for another term. Trump’s a shithead, that is if journalists haven’t figured it out by now, a man with next-to-no redeeming human value. Many politicians, including celebrities and their attendants, are shitheads, as are many men and even a few women.

Republicans are discovering that the most difficult trial to survive is not The Party, but The Afterparty. Republicans never knew just how much Fun they’re having—the bigger The Fun the larger The Afterparty! And the larger The Afterparty the more the machine disgorges the confetti that falls from the chandeliers…

but I sip bourbon and digress at the top of my lungs!

I’m pleased as punch to introduce my new line of cardboard ‘characters’—58 of them, all 6” x 9”, rendered in colorful acrylic paints and graphite pencil. They now hang on the west wall of my studio. These little characters have nothing to do with anything, and that’s what I like about them—some of them make me happy.