I love artists.

Artists have a special place in my heart – the heartburn place. I know a lot of artists. Six years for a liberal arts degree to learn how to say “Do you want fries with that?” 

So I'm looking at a friend's art, wondering why I didn't think to bring a can of gasoline…

“Look at this! I call 'Ocean waves at dawn'!”  

“Ummm…where are the waves?”

“Well, I painted it just BEFORE dawn – you have to IMAGINE the waves.” 

“So it's a black canvas and people are supposed to imagine waves?  Is that it?  I sort of imagine that's the view you'd get if you woke up buried alive in a coffin.  Have you tried leaving a canvas blank and calling it “Staring at the sun?”

“Oh! You're awful! You have no appreciation of fine art!”

“Sure I have.  Have you ever been to a 'Tilted Kilt' Restaurant? The whole place is walking, jiggling, mountains of fine art – and you don't even have to IMAGINE IT!”

“I have never even HEARD of a place like that.” 

“Of course not. They have minimum standards.  You wouldn't get past the parking…..OW – OUCH – OW (I'm really just making noise because she's hitting me with her paintings – which can only make them better.) 

I got away and have waited months for someone to finally mention artists – and give me the gratuitous opportunity to write this.