You Art Majors kill me, really

You waste years of your lives, and thousands of dollars of your parents money, to get a passing grade, from some other self absolved hipster, who couldn't cut it in the Real World either.

Do you know what a Passing Grade is in the Real World?

It's getting something displayed in a Gallery, or a Museum, or published in a magazine. To do that you have to get a Passing Grade from somebody who really counts.

So you've been here for a year, you've done a dozen deviations, and had an average of seven page views. You know what that tells me? First of all, you are going to starve to death as an Artist, or never make enough to move out of Mom and Dads house if that's all you can produce in a year.

Next you give me the argument that well, your seven page views beat my sevnety eight, because you're viewers appreciate quality. Well unless they vote with their cjeckbook, you're wrong again.

Let me clue you in on something children, because that's what you are spoiled little delusional rich kids. Mommy and Daddy didn't waste all that money for you to be wanna be art critics. You don't have the credentials, and you suck at it, so quit trying to put my work down. Mkay?

No matter how bad you talk about my work, it does not make yours one bit better, it still sucks and that's why nobody looks at it, nobody saves, you have no page views, and you have no watchers, got it?

I use this place for Market Research, and so far, it's giving me some great feedback, and data that I can use in the real world. You see I pay the bills doing this stuff.

Oh how awful, how plebian, stick your noses up you dandy tots. My work this, and my work that, and it's so awful that I... Well the fact is, either I get my work past an Art Director, or get hired by the Editor, or get my Video in the rotation, or the latest catalog, or I don't eat, and my cat goes hungry.

Face it, if ya'll tried to live off your drawrings and your moral high horses, you couldn't afford to stay in a flea bag motel off the Interstate in Dallas for one night a week.

What's worse, is when I explain as in the Crispin series, that it's for one person, as an assortment, and you nitpick every individual picture, or worse, give me this, "I Made the Model Do," crap.

Oh well, one day your folks will get tired of paying your bills, and you'll have to get a Real Job. The next time somebody asks you if you want fries with that, ask them if they have an Arts Degree. The answer might scare you.

Now quit trying to be Art Critics, you won't change me or the World.