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Adam PS: a moron.

Today I had the opportunity to chit chat with an Artist.

There was a gallery showing on campus

I showed up right at the end of whatever the Artist was talking about.

There was an upside down rainbow.

And a red wall with white lines made to mimic brick. 

And then there was Adam, the Artist.

The work itself, upon first look, provided some shallow but pleasurable aesthetics. The colors were nice. Some of them. Unoriginal, but pleasant 

I suppose a mediocre attempt at best to strive for individuality through... trivial crafts.

But then the Artist.

Was awful. As a human. Just terrible. No depth. No character. No spine. No knowledge or concept of metaphysical motivations. Nothing interesting except for the fact that he, "has no problem getting young girls naked."

Way to GO champ. I'm sure you're deep on the inside. 

Oh the art says it all; you're nobody. Why they decided to give you a gallery opening, I'll never know. 

I assume your oral skills are out of this world. If I needed any, I'd ask you for pointers.

But I cannot even fathom... how someone could live with themselves by producing the most stereotypical and pathetic work without any semblance of at least trying to bullshit their objective worth to society.

I mean back your shit up. It's shit but if you back it up right, you can sell if for the price of gold. 

Suffering pain and all that not a worthwhile explanation for the mundane post-modern nonsense that hung around the room.

 Is the point that there is no point? an easy way out for a skilled con-man; not so much an ambivalent idiot. 

OOO you made the cinder block yourself? Welcome to the world of undocumented immigrants you pretentious and ignorant sack of horse shit. 

So go ahead, keep doing what you're doing ADAM. I'm sure you'll be remembered


through my writing. You insufferable dolt. 

Go bang a 13 year old and get caught already. 

YES I'M THE ARTIST: a sure fire way for you to melt that American Apparel spandex leotard right off 'em Champ. 


  1. Dear Adam,

    If I was in a burning building and there were twenty children inside and it was an all glass house and the only thing handy was your homemade cinder block, I would not break the glass and free the children, for fear that your art might have actually found some semblance of a purpose.

    Eat shit and die you pathetic waste of skin. Which reminds me. If I were flayed alive and screaming and bleeding and your skin was just laying around and you weren't using it and if you offered to lend it to me until I could find my own, I would not use it, for fear that your skin might have finally found some semblance of a purpose.

    Art has a point. YOU do not.

    The best thing that can happen is that you dwindle into nothingness and are soon forgotten.

    What were we talking about again?

    (this hate mail will be sent to the artist)


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