Minus human
A recipe for masterpiece.
Take one dog. One living dog. Tie it inside an art gallery. Leave it there without food or water. Invite visitors, even place an entrance fee perhaps. Let the dog die. Call it art.
A Costa Rican scumbag, self-titled ‘artist’, has put this into practice. Some have claimed his work puts art’s limits into discussion. No, it puts humanity’s boundaries to the test. When can one be called a ‘human’? And for which reasons? For the mere possession of two arms and legs? For having opposable thumbs? It appears so…
The Neanderthal dog-slayer had the aberrantly sadistic idea of writing, with dog biscuits, ‘You are what you read’, on the wall behind the dying dog. People passed by, gazed at the macabre sight in front of them, saw the inscription on the wall, and nodded sagely. I’m pretty sure some remarks such as ‘He’s a genius’ have been uttered too in that slaughter gallery. Furthermore, the psychopath behind all this, Guillermo Vargas Habacuc, has been selected to represent his country in an international festival, subsequent to his despicable ‘exhibition’. No-one seemed to notice the sheer inhumanity and bestiality behind it all. Another ‘artist’ was widely praised some years ago for his photo of a crucifix submerged in urine… Taboos and rules may not be welcomed, but there is one rule which is a must – being human. Up to this extent can art be called art – having the inner obliging dignity of proving that more than a finger distinguishes you from an amoeba…
A country of aberrations
Time and time again, the country in which I am currently residing doesn’t cease to make me sick. One side effect was that I’ve given up watching TV. Another one is a certain amount of masochism, which stimulates me in turning that wretched appliance on. Today, the case heavily debated on all channels was an minor accident caused by the minister of transportation. So far, so good… so what? Well, the minister did everything to conceal his flaw, lying to the press and so on. Finally the truth (or a simulacrum of it) was revealed. What really made me tick was the moment I saw the parents of the girl involved in the accident – screaming at the reporters, aggressing them, cursing them. After all, the media were there to support the victim’s cause and record some recriminations against the minister. No, Romanians are afraid. Afraid of anything, and especially afraid of being free. It’s better to keep a low profile, to be quiet, because you never know… This ‘you never know’ is the key to understanding the profoundly altered ethnic mentality. The indefinite fear. Psychology calls that an ‘apprehension’. But it’s not that sort of thing here. It’s just about taming yourself to walk more and more crouched, crushing your backbone until you learn to crawl, without anyone asking or forcing you to do so. Then finally all you do is crawl… If an ‘official’ takes part in the equation, be sure to count on the complete lack of morality and ’spine’ of this nation. Anyone can have his way with this jellyfish-like people. Naturally, when I first found out the news I was like ‘The hell with the minister’. But it wasn’t until the parents appeared that I understood this very simple yet hard to understand/admit truth – they all deserve each other. Both the ruler and the ruled are the same. The same vomit flows through their veins. Yes, vomit. Blood was what brave soldiers spilled on the battlefield, blood was what ran through the love-crazed body of Dante seeking his lost love, Beatrice. No, these humanoids have vomit in their veins. And I’m not talking about exceptions here.
Why did it take a blood-drenched revolution to eliminate the Communist regime back in 1989? Because the so-called ’system’ was strong, would be the first thing that comes to mind. But the ’system’ isn’t made up of digits, 0 & 1, or machines. No, it’s made of people, of individuals. That’s where the regime had its deepest roots. It the depraved minds of those who consented to support the Party and its beloved leader. It was the same sort of Romanians, the fearing kind. And this time I’m pertaining to majorities. Where there not millions who joined the PCR willingly? When the wind of change blew here as well, those with vomit in their veins stood cautiously hidden behind curtains, while those with blood offered it to sacrifice. Naturally, the elite is far less numerous then the mass, but the utter inner quality of the mass is outrageously poor. We are certainly the only country in the world that could produce Dan Diaconescu and his totally unique way of interpreting mass-media. It is only in Romania that a large-scale success of ‘manele’ could occur. Only here could imbeciles like Stolojan, Becali, and others gain power. A country of aberrations….
Do not try to convince me…
“Do not try to convince me, with messages from God. You accuse us of sins, committed by yourselves”, raged a stance in an Epica song. One of the main reasons I started this whole page was a small, glossy leaflet I found one day lying on my desk at school. So did everybody else in my class. It was called “Tinerii azi”, and it bore the name of the Archbishopric of Suceava and Radauti on its cover. So, it appears the priests are trying their shot at the youth of the nation. Don’t get me wrong, I am a Christian believer. But living in such a freakin’ pious and religiously annoying region like Bucovina really puts ones faith to the test. And it’s the priests, monks and nuns that contribute essentially to it. I started reading that magazine and immediately noticed its quality paper. It appears the church is wealthy… So wealthy it cand afford paying for such an imprint… Something doesn’t fit… What about the alleged lack of interest for the worldly possessions?
Perhaps it was for a noble goal, I tried to make myself believe. But the content, or lack of content, proved me wrong. So, the introductory pages: an endless jabber signed by the infamous Archbishop of Suceava, a guy desperate for money and timber. Every two words there was a quote from the Bible. What, I wonder, was the author’s contribution?
Moving on. What really triggered my anger was the part in which there was a depiction of the Judgement Day, like the famous Voronet fresco. Just that this very one had some explanatory parts for the dumb teens they thought we were, I guess. As consequence, the molten river of lava flowing towards hell had these words floating on its waves: atheists, fashion, theatre, cinema, Satan, whores, Judas, Antichrist, thieves, greed, etc. Naturally rock and metal were on the list, and so was, to my surprise (and some minor satisfaction), football… Mentioning all other stupidities is futile…
And this shitty magazine was distributed in schools, in the very institutions that were meant to teach us about freedom of thought, speech, independence and rights.
Had the too honorable church donated the money to charity instead of printing the pages of scum, wouldn’t a minor part of the world be a bit more happy? But I guess common welfare and church have nothing in common…
