NYC Garbage Cubes by Justin Gignac, Piss Christ by Andres Serrano, Artist's Shit by Piero Manzoni, And for Today...Nothing by Stuart Brisley, My Bed by Tracey Emin and Venus de Milo out of Excrement by Zhu Cheng, I could keep going. My point is, there is no definition of art.
Is this art? Fuck if I know and that's the point. Are tampon earrings art? To me, no but am I going to tell the feminist at Rice University they can't wear them? No, I'm not. You wanna know why? Because who the hell am I? Who am I to tell someone what they can and can't buy with their money? What makes me so important that I can impose my view on someone else?
This doesn't hurt anyone any more than a Lifetime Movie hurts me. I know it is absolutely horrible. It makes a mockery of an art/skill that people have labored over for decades. I'm not talking about the game; I'm talking about Lifetime Movies. That's why I DON'T FUCKING WATCH THEM!
Have I played the game? Nope. Did I give money? Yep. Just because the same media that never said anything about Epstien or Cosby and the same people that voted for a President that was declared liable for battery and defamation (reminder that battery includes: rape, sexual abuse, forcible touching) and the same churches that hid and condoned years of child sexual abuse should not be the preponderant influence of ethics anymore.
Wow. That was a bit of a tirade huh? Welp, any who-sie whats-it. I'll talk to you guys later. Peace