So yestereve, as I hunkered down to obtain my mandatory 15 and a half hours of beauty sleep, my mental alarm sounded informing me that Michael Israel was trying to contact me. Immediately I signed onto the interwebs and found the above message typed onto our comment book. Almost immediately I was taken aback! Who the hell is Joe? There is no Joe that writes for artshard. Is Joe the name of Michael’s hair tamer, and for some reason he needed to include the staff of Joey T’s Hair Emporium into this conversation? Then it hit me like the pain of a thousand exercises performed on Michael Israel’s Total Gym. He was responding to Joe B.’s comment. But then I began thinking, taking an interest? I feel that I take an “interest” in Michaels work about as much as I take “interest” into fixing that floating black ball in the upper deck of my toilet when the water runs for too long after I have flushed. Its something that I know is there, would rather ignore, is kind of gross to touch, but know how to fix it when it gets out of line.
As I continued to read from Michael’s comment my lil’ heart strings were plucked. Why sit around and debate color and technique when there is so much greatness our art can achieve? You see, Michael doesn’t do this for himself; he does it for the kids, the cancer, and the lives on lines (does that mean fish that fisherman catch? hardly seems noble). Sure, maybe the rippling abs help when he jerks off in the mirror, but that’s just something he uses to help sell his product. Wait, did that last hyperlink say “Corporate Entertainment”? Go back and click, because I am pretty sure it did. Yup it does! So your art helps the staving puppy dogs in China by entertaining the bigwigs at corporations, some of which I can only assume are responsible for our current financial crisis? Wow, bold move Michael, bold move. Well, why stop there? Why shouldn’t your art cure all things wrong in this world? Its time for you to start living up to that pull quote of “Most remembered Artist in American History”, and do the “great things” that your “great art” should do. Below you will see that we have compiled a list of what we think “great art” should do. Read it, memorize it, learn it, live it. After all you only have a 6-7 short months until your busy season of entertaining corporate Christmas parties.
Things “great art” should do:
Save stale food, resurrect the dinosaurs, mend broken hearts, turn frowns upside down, heal broken dreams, mend Charles’ broken wrists, find homes for all stray animals, fix flat tires, reunite the Beatles, light my fire, start the fire, find the Loch Ness Monster, land on the moon, become an alternative source of energy, travel back in time and not allowed Steve Bartman into Wrigley Field, make the sun shine 24/7, smell like flowers, give you x-ray vision, wash your dishes, read books to your kids at night, make you smarter, grant you three wishes, fly, fix the recession, stop teen pregnancy, eradicate termites, stop my hangover, get me drunk, solve hard math problems, be square, do the Macarena, return my movie rentals on time, kiss the bride, protect manatees, sing you to sleep, keep you in shape, cure the common cold, correct your astigmatism, save you from drowning, keep you dry in a thunderstorm, give the Def Leopard drummer his arm back, floss, brush your teeth, scratch my ass, smell like colors, stop unwanted wetness, beat Double Dragon 2, eat fruit Certs, ride that pony, get in the car, lets the dogs out, do bike tricks, solve unsolved mysteries, cook me a hot dog, be there when dad isn’t, resolve static cling, cure restless leg syndrome, explain the ending to Mulholland Drive, speak English, dial in my golf swing, know what women want, get you into heaven, do long division, solve pi, salvage Scott Weiland’s career, know all the lyrics to R.E.M.’s “It’s the End of The World as We Know It”, fight for the cause of justice, never forget the punch line to a really funny joke, cure pink eye. It filets, it chops, it dices, slices, never stops, lasts a lifetime. Mow your lawn and pick up the kids from school, get rid of unwanted facial hair, get rid of embarrassing age spots, deliver a pizza, and it lengthens, and it strengthens, and it finds that slipper that’s been at large under the chaise lounge for several weeks, and it plays a mean Rhythm Master, it makes excuses for unwanted lipstick on your collar, it’s only a dollar, it forges your signature, you can live in it, live in it, laugh in it, love in it, swim in it, sleep in it, live in it, swim in it, laugh in it, love in it, it removes embarrassing stains from contour sheets, that’s right and it entertains visiting relatives, it turns a sandwich into a banquet, it walks your dog, and it doubles on sax, you can jump back Jack, see you later alligator, see you later alligator, and it steals your car, it gets rid of your gambling debts, it quits smoking, it’s a friend, and it’s a companion, and it’s the only product you will ever need, it never needs ironing, it takes weights off hips, bust, thighs, chin, midriff, gives you dandruff, and it finds you a job, it is a job, and it strips the phone company free take ten for five exchange, and it gives you denture breath, and you know it’s a friend, and it’s a companion, and it gets rid of your traveler’s checks, it’s new, it’s improved, it’s old-fashioned, it takes care of business, never needs winding, never needs winding, never needs winding, gets rid of blackheads, the heartbreak of psoriasis, it’s defective, it creates household odors, it disinfects, it sanitizes for your protection, it gives you an erection, it wins the election, why put up with painful corns any longer? It should steal from the rich and gives to the poor, come home for Christmas, pick the kids up from soccer practice, be the laughter of small children on a cool autumn night, send you a birthday card with a check for $5 in it, help the elderly cross the street, wipe away the tears of the young and old, save rainforests and baby seals, never forget your birthday, take out the trash, be the sunshine of my life. It should be the scent of a warm apple pie cooling in the window, a child’s first word, walk on the moon, know who shot JFK, do your taxes, rescue cats from trees, be the cool stingy minty sensation in Listerine, dream the dreams that others do not dare to dream, cuddle after sex, be the steamy embrace of two lovers in a hot tub, shop til it drops, take the blame, be the daunting flight of a male hawk on a crisp March night, be scared, be brave, be the balmy scent of fresh banana bread wafting through Chicago in June, hide under the bed, know where you left your keys, be an app on your iPhone, be an ocean of love wrapped in a blanket of serendipity covered in the laughter of small children.
And finally, it should be the best of luck in all my endeavors.
