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After the performance, it really is possible that impressionable kids will want to detonate their own cows. Good. Encourage them. If every kid in the world exploded a cow, we'd be so busy cheering we wouldn't have time to starve or start wars. I know we don't have the budget for something like that, but we could at least take all the bullshit National Endowment for the Arts money away from the women painting with their maxi pads and give it to traveling theatre groups for explosives and beef. You should assume that everyone against something this cool has problems, but one 13 year old girl went out of her way to prove it. Patrizia Strunz went in front of a Berlin court to say that seeing the burger grenade could "trigger spiritual shock." The court, like me, probably didn't know what the hell that meant, and they told her that she didn't have to watch it if she thought it would prove there was no God, or do whatever a spiritual shock does to you. And their verdict of "quit looking at stuff that bothers you" is a pretty progressive outlook to come from the same country that brought us genocide and tried to kill Indiana Jones. Besides worrying about how Wolfgang might affect idiot humans, I think we should focus on how it might affect idiot cows. An easily influenced cow could see Wolfgang's stunt, eat a barrel of gunpowder, skin itself, and start jumping out of aircraft. That means we need to always wear hard hats even when we're not fucking, or else construct floating cities that would bustle in the sky high above the exploding animals. It's a small trade off for all the positive aspects of cows wanting to blow up, such as the one shown in this political cartoon. 
It's a common misconception that art has meaning. I've been to enough gallery critiques to know that after 8 years of art school, a person can trick themselves into thinking some ass-colored paint splat is telling them something about how smart they are. Don't fall for this. Any painting that has a secret meaning is just an artist sucking his own dick about how some people can't unriddle their profound wisdom. And their profound wisdom is usually that yellow looks pretty next to purple, they don't like television, or how the government should fill their asshole with sexy miniature firemen. This is a true story: when I was in art school I had a dipshit in my painting class that painted a guitar on fire. He stood in front of the class and actually said, "I painted this to show my burning desire... to write songs for the guitar." I still hadn't stopped laughing by the time another girl showed her swirls of nonsense colors and said, "I was trying to show the emotion... of anger." It was about there where the professor asked me to laugh the tears out of my eyes somewhere else. That is exactly what's wrong with artists. In the 10 or 12 hours you spent on a painting that someone might interpret to mean that you love the guitar, you could have knocked on 800 people's random doors and told them all, with no misunderstanding, that you're one hundred percent behind the success of the guitar. Or better yet, if it's really that important that everyone knows you enjoy the guitar, FUCK YOU. Art would like to think that it's some sort of secret communication device between the intellectual elite, but all it's doing is circling a message through the same group of dickbags that they're all pissed off. It's a waste of time; you can tell someone you're pissed off with a simple karate chop. Karate attacks or just words about karate attacks are a cleaner and faster means of communication than painting floating eyeballs with your body fluids ever will be. That's what makes this exploding cow so special. It wasn't a visual interpretation of some profound statement. It needed to happen because there are no words that will ever be as rad as filling a cow with dynamite and dropping it from the sky. Unless you're a hypnotist and you say the words, "Take off the Wonder Woman outfit and make out with your twin sister." |
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