Announcing the Winners of a Very Serious Contest

As promised, I am appointing additional positions of power and recognition for people who have contributed to this glorious blog.

Angie, I hereby appoint you Princess Perv, OBGYN.  You are truly perverted.  Seriously.  Please accept this speculum scepter, which will guide you in the way of the depraved.  I have also created a very serious portrait for you, and I wrote this double stanza haiku.

you held me so close
so we would not freeze that one
time we went camping

your laugh is like a
desert flower that blooms when
shit is so funny

And Angie, I mean every word.

I would also like to honor ASP, who considers himself "an ambiguous clinger-on of the Nomura Beard Coalition."  I'm not entirely sure what that means, but I appreciate the fact that he left a comment on a very serious post.  I am hereby appointing him Bodacious Beard Clinger.

Here is your portrait and a very serious limerick.

There once was a man Pagliere [pag-lee-airy]

Who clung to beards whene’er he got weary

“I think until dawn,”

he said with a yawn,

“I’ll cling to a face most hairy!”

From here on out, I will honor one follower each month.  Earn recognition by spreading the word about Very Serious Art, or by leaving awesome comments.  Also, if you would like to showcase your own serious art, please email me at veryseriousartist@gmail.com.

Song for Arma Geddon

I'm proud to announce that the End of the World Camping trip was a great success!  We got in touch with nature, wore amazing costumes, acted like idiots, and invented taco dogs (hot dogs wrapped in a tortilla).  However, I have to say the whole thing was a little anticlimactic.  There was no doom, death, or destruction.  No murder or mayhem.  No hellfire or brimstone.  We didn't even get a meteor shower, which is okay, I guess, since I couldn't figure out how to use the telescope I brought.  Turns out math is hard.  :(

Anyway, that night, as I passed out in my car among the dogs and trash bags full of clothes that I forgot to take to Goodwill, I made myself a promise:  "Self, if I survive this night, I'm going to pursue my true passion and become a very serious rap artist."

Here's the first song I wrote.  It's called "Song for Arma Geddon":

Intro:

Oooh, yeah

Yeahhh yeahh, girl

Ooh girl, yeah

Verse:

Girl you know you fine

When I see you in da club

I wanna make you mine, yeah

Already got a half chub

Feels like the world is endin'

Pickin' up the vibes you sendin'

Your booty like a meteor

I'm gettin slightly meatier - Uhn!

We only got a night, girl

Make it worth our while, girl

If we survive this, lover

Please be my baby's mother

Shit's goin' down, so let's go down

On each - Oh! Yeaaahhhhh, girl, 

Let's play the tick-tock game

Time's runnin' out 

Shhhh... What's your name?

Chorus:

Arma Geddon, Arma Geddon

Such a strange name for a fair dame

Arma Geddon, Arma Geddon

This girl's apocalyptic,

Hip-hop-a-lyptic

I'm gonna get wit it

At the last minute

[literally]

Verse:

Girl you know we facing doom

We just can't live forever

So let's go to your room

And explode like stars together

Feels like the world is endin'

Pickin' up the vibes you sendin'

Please God oh help me capture

This Big Bang chick I'm after

I'll show her the rapture

Yeah, I'm gonna holler at her

Chorus:

Arma Geddon, Arma Geddon

Such a strange name for a fair dame

Arma Geddon, Arma Geddon

This girl's apocalyptic,

Hip-hop-a-lyptic

I'm gonna get with it

At the last minute

[literally]

(Repeat)

[Explosion Sounds]

On an even seriouser note, please enjoy these real life pics from the camping trip.

True Story

Millions of years ago, giant lizards ruled the Earth.  Many of them were seriously, ridiculously awesome.  The rest were pretty lame, but they all had interesting skills, or at least looked bad ass.  They were basically like the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park, but way smarter.

Anyway, over time, the lizards became pretty intelligent and learned how to build things like cars, skyscrapers, malls, and holy temples.  But even though they had all this cool stuff they kept fighting with each other and acting like total dicks.  They were all, “Blah, blah, my god is better than your god,” and “Wah, wah, it’s all Obamasaurus’ fault.” On top of that, most of them sat around playing video games or watching “Real Sauropod Wives of the Cretaceous Era” instead of making the world a better place.

Eventually, the Almighty Creator of Lizardness was like, “Um, hello?  You guys have all this dope technology and information and yet you continue to act like total rejects.  I’m so bored...  I think I’ll start over and make humans.  Yeah, they’ll get it right!”  So then he smote the giant lizards with a comet or something and they choked on dust, died, and got buried for all eternity.

The End

Except for the epilogue, which is this: Millions of years later, people were also pretty lame, so the Almighty Creator of Lizardness/Peoplehood talked to this group of fundamentalist whack jobs and announced that he would be ending the world again.  In an effort to save everyone, or perhaps in a huge scam to get money, the whack jobs started telling everyone the End of Times was approaching.  It’s happening tomorrow, FYI.

TO BE CONTINUED...?

Officers of Very Serious Art

To my show my gratitude for those of you who became "followers" of this blog, I've decided to designate official positions of power and recognition.


Adam Luebke was my first follower.  From here on out, he shall be referred to as "High Priest of Seriousness."

Cathyrn2b is hereby appointed "Secretary of Awesome" for her work in spreading the word about this blog all the hell over facebook.

If you feel you deserve special recognition as one of my devoted followers, leave your proposal as a comment.  I will anoint two followers by the end of the week, complete with a very serious portrait in your honor.

Very Serious Discussion

One of my neighbors has gone to great lengths to make sure no dogs poop on his lawn.  A while ago, he put out a bunch of grocery bags and a small trash can for dog owners to use in the event of what I like to call a "code brown." More recently he mounted a sign in his yard urging people to do the right thing and pick up their dogs' poo.  But after seeing this sign I wondered, Is having a picture of a dog pooping on your lawn really that much better than having actual dogs poop on your lawn?  Please, discuss.

Productivity

This summer I'm mostly doing freelance work, which means my schedule is unpredictable, and there are some days when I have nothing specific on my agenda.  Usually, I start my days off feeling very motivated.  Sometimes I even make "to do" lists.  And then, somehow, I'm suddenly launched through time and space!  I realize the sun is going down... and all I've done that day is argue with strangers online about the state of education in the US.  :(

The Triumphant Return of Moses - For the Oasis Church Congregation

When I moved into my current apartment, one of its most appealing features was the fact that it is located right next door to a church.  Right away, I thought, "Great!  What a nice, quiet neighborhood!  These attractive, young, church folk won't covet my shit, they won't steal from me, they won't cause problems... where do I sign?"

But I was in for a rude awakening.  Every Sunday morning (early!) and every Wednesday night (late!), a Christian rock band shreds the electric guitar and goes apeshit on the drums for Jesus.  It's deafening.  It's distracting.  It's annoying.  I don't get any writing done.  Ever.  On weekdays, this church serves as some kind of charter school.  The kids are always outside playing basketball, fighting, shrieking, cursing, and ruining my life.  

The church administrators also rent a first-floor studio in my building to use as their "office," which means throngs of people come traipsing in and out all day, every day.  There must be at least 50 people who know the entry code for the gate of my supposedly "secure" building.  Wonderful.

Today the tranquility of my long-awaited Saturday morning was shattered when a football clattered against my window.  The window is still intact, but the force of the football caused my jewelry stands to fall over, and all my hand-made treasures are now lying in a tangled heap on the floor.  Then, these Christian sadists hauled in enormous speakers and started playing the most godawful music, at what I'm sure  must be illegal decibel levels.  I was upset when my windows started rattling to the tune of "Everybody Dance Now."  My blood started to boil when Justin Bieber's adolescent wailing made my dogs howl.  And now that "Who Let the Dogs Out" is blaring, I'm on the verge of a hate crime.

To quell my rage, I've begun fantasizing about Moses making a triumphant return to declare a new commandment: