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Hunter Biden Eats M&Ms With Hot Werewolves
While President Biden and his Veep square off to determine who insults the intelligence of the American public more grievously?
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Here are some random things I found interesting, but each doesn’t necessitate entire posts, so I decided to do something different and put a bunch of these things together into a quick-hitter article.
Hunter Biden: one of the most consequential artists of our time
Hunter Biden, the President's son who has enriched himself on the back of his father and utilized said riches to buy crack and hookers, and bang his dead brother’s wife, had an art show in October of 2021, in which he earned $375,000. Purely by coincidence, all the acquirers of the artwork have remained anonymous. Not bad business if you can get it.
Now though, Georges Berges, Biden’s art dealer and recipient of a piece of all of Biden’s sales, has made a claim that “Hunter Biden will become one of the most consequential artists in this century because the world needs his art now more than ever. In a world that beats us down, we need art in our lives that reminds [us] of the unrelenting divinity within each of us.”
Ok, bro. Listen, I get that being Biden’s art dealer is a sweet deal because, no matter what kind of garbage he throws up on the canvas, it is going to sell with little effort on your part. I’m sure there are plenty of foreign nationals that are lovers of the “crack, sister-in-law banging realist” genre of artwork and in no way interested in influencing US policy decisions that they will pay a pretty penny for it, especially now that Ukraine is flush with US taxpayer cash and buying luxury cars and houses, why not splurge on a Hunter original. Don’t hate the player; hate the game, right?
I’m even willing to admit that his artwork isn’t terrible and that I actually like some of it, but don’t piss on me and tell me it’s raining. This can only be explained in one of three ways:
The new GOP-led House has asked him for the sales records, and he is preemptively trying to justify what people are paying for these things by beefing up his status in the art community
The current state of the art community is sheer trash
A little from column A, a little from column B
As I made clear in my recent post, MLK, Modern Art, and the Culture of Bad Taste, I have more than a little disdain for the modern art community (which will become more apparent in the following item), but c’mon. There’s no way it’s THAT BAD, right?
The Most Terrifying Statue in History
As example, number 10,435,805 of the “modern art is trash” motif I have picked up around here, a new sculpture is temporarily adorning the roof of a New York City courthouse to sit alongside Moses, Justinian, and Confucius. We should all feel blessed that the statue is only doing a short stint there because, if you gave me 3:1 odds, I would bet that it is going to come alive and eat the other statues.
The only way to describe this atrocity is if Medusa and an octopus had a baby, who then decided to wear Ruth Bader Ginsburgs’ lacy frock.
The sculptor, Shahzia Sikander, says the thing in the sculpture “is a fierce woman and a form of resistance in a space that has historically been dominated by patriarchal representation” and has very creatively called the horrifying display “NOW.”
Can someone get the Hauge on the phone, please? I have a crime against humanity I have to report.
You can read all about it in the New York Times piece here.
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Help! My Father Pushed Me Into Sports to Cover Up an Affair With My Coach.
In an advice column on Slate called We’re Prudence, they crowdsource solutions to a (supposed) reader’s question.
What could go wrong? I think we’re at the point in society now where watching a never-ending stream of TikTok videos makes you qualified to give someone serious life advice, so let’s roll with it.
Here is the dilemma being faced by Dead Dreams (not to be too dramatic):
When I was 15, my world exploded. My father had been having a years-long affair with my personal coach. In fact, the entire reason why he pushed me into the sport was to cover up the affair. It devastated my mother and showered me with crippling doubt about my own ability and self-worth. My coach talked about me being Olympic material and nearly all my free time went into training. After the divorce, I refused to speak to my father, and I gave up the sport. I had severe depression and even with therapy, it is very hard for me to look in the mirror and not see wasted potential.
Now, I am engaged. As an olive branch, I have been slowly talking again to my father. But I am not ready, and might not ever be, to speak to his new wife. In some ways, her betrayal hurts worse than what my father did. She exploited my dreams and ambitions and drove me to levels that left me with injuries, some lifelong. And it was in service to fucking my father. My father and I were never close. My relationship with my mother is an entirely different kettle of fish. My coach was very much the most important adult in my life at the time. I want my father at my wedding. I don’t want his wife there. How do I get this across? Every time I try to make more than small talk with my father, my throat closes up.
Ok, Ms. Dreams. Or do we know each other well enough for me to call you Dead? I’ll stick with Ms. Dreams.
Ms. Dreams, IF this happened (and that’s a big “if,” which I will get to), the answer is very simple, tell him you don’t want the bitch there. Done and done. Venmo me my $1500 hourly fee, please.
Now we’ll get to my skepticism of this entire, sordid affair. I’m confused, Ms. Dreams. How did your working with the coach help with your father’s affair? Was he banging her while you were banging the heavy bag? Was she doing splits on the side of the pool while you were doing synchronized swimming splits inside of it? Was he spinning her around while you spun around the ice? You get the point…I have questions.
Also, I’m confused; were you good enough to go to the Olympics or not? If not, you should be thanking your father for the affair because you got to train with someone who wouldn't have otherwise taken you on based on your ability. Nice work taking one (or giving one, in this case) for the team, dad!
If you were good enough, then great; how was this alleged potential wasted? I am sure there are other coaches for curling, fencing, or whatever sport you had Olympic potential in. Unless you played Olympic vomit-catching... There is only one coach for that.
Finally, call me suspect about your dad pushing you into the sport...if you didn't like it and had a close relationship with your mother, as you claim, why didn’t you speak up and say, “this sucks? Also, you should have been happy when you got to stop and not been in therapy about it, right? People don’t typically go into therapy when they get to stop doing something they hate doing.
For example, my ex-girlfriend didn’t start going to therapy after we broke up; she stopped going to therapy after we broke up.
Anyway, Ms. Dreams, deal with it head-on…if this happened.
Now is Not the Time for Hot Werewolves
No, to pick on Slate too much, but oh well. They posted an article last week entitled, Hot Teen Werewolves? In this Economy?”
If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times, hot teen werewolves are more of a 3% GDP thing.
Congrats! We Broke the M&M Machine
Long story short - female M&M trades in her boots for pumps, Tucker Carlson complains that M&Ms have gone woke, M&Ms releases all-female packaging, someone else on Fox News complains, M&Ms kills the “spokes candies” altogether and replaces them with Maya Rudolph.
Is this stupid? Of course. Do I love that the woksters, like Tayo Bero at The Guardian, are getting a taste of their own medicine? Most definitely.
If they get to change the name of every professional sports team they don’t like, we get to kill their anthropomorphized, asexual candy spokes things. Those are the rules; I don’t make ‘em, I just enforce ‘em.
Biden/Harris “Stupid-off” of-the-week
This may be a recurring theme here at the ol’ Substack…a little dueling moron exposition between the decrepit and moronic. I don’t know, we’ll see.
Let’s get the ring announcer to introduce our fighters.
In the red corner, featuring the fighter with the Depends enforced trunks, the Dummy from Delaware, President Plagiarism, Joseph Robinette Biden Jr.
This week, immediately after making a joke about how everyone thinks he’s stupid, Biden proceeds to call the local Congressman by the wrong name.
And in the blue corner, the Exonerating Evidence Hiding AG, the Hypocrite of the Hash, the Border Czar from Hell, the Don’t Misprounce Her Name Or You're a Racist, Vice-President Kamala Devi Harris.
Not to be outdone, this week, the Veep expwained how a wocket shippy works to wittle babies…
Except it was at a ceremony with adults…from NASA…who have been in space…and know precisely how rockets work.
The judges call this round to…Vice President Harris! Check back soon for round two of this epic battle between the senile and stuporous.
Let me know in the comments what you think about these types of posts or if you think I should stick exclusively with the deeper dives.
Until next week…