To the Breech once more

Who should I go after today? I re-read some of my posts and I seem to gripe a lot about what’s wrong with our culture. But Christ, somebody’s got to do it. Everyone’s so afraid of being politically incorrect these days that they’re afraid to state the obvious. Isn’t it possible to see the wrongs in our culture and comment on them without being cruel (unless they really have it coming). Which brings me to the subject of today’s post: retirees and middle-aged ladies getting in touch with their artistic side. Do us all a favor and don’t!

Where were all these people and their artistic urges back when they were in their twenties? Oh, right, back then, they were too busy getting in touch with their nice houses, the nice cars, the expensive clothes and vacations and living a nice comfortable life. They only decide to become artistic when they retire or get laid off or become empty nesters. Now they need a hobby and one that might provide them with a few extra bucks. So they paint schlocky paintings for the country club ladies or the interior designer set, and come and go speaking of Michelangelo. Here’s a common theme among them: After twenty-five years in the insurance industry (insert any occupation) I decided to return to my first love-painting. I took an art course as a freshman in college and loved it, but—and this is where the bull-shit starts. Look, I got no problem with these schmucks taking up a hobby, but keep it at that. You’re not an artist because you took a few painting workshops; you’re not even a good painter. Honestly, the hubris of the baby boomer generation never ceases to amaze me.

But you have to lay some of the blame at the society that not only allows but encourages this sort of thing. And let’s not forget the art galleries that exhibit this junk hoping to pick up a few dollars from the interior designers who in many areas of the country are the arbiters of taste and buy more than individual collectors.

I hope one day to write something positive about our culture. Maybe next time, if there is a next time. This blogging thing seems a bit self-indulgent and self-aggrandizing; don’t you think? Till next time-maybe.

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