I'll come up with something in a minute.

And now another episode of “What brought that on?” Theater.

“Flowers. How ordinary.”

Lilly von Shtup

A few of you have asked why the last poll was tilted away from the idea of flowers, which I claim it wasn’t. I offered it as an option, didn’t I? If I were really against them I wouldn’t have allowed them in the poll at all. Also, I’d like to thank the large number of you who proved me right and other people wrong. I will answer the questions from that poll later, but right now I’m going to answer for the poll as a whole.

This weekend I was talking to Hol’s friend and he said a girl was mad at him, most his stories involve a girl being mad at him, and he was going to try and smooth things over by sending her flowers. I rolled my eyes and said something derisive like “If you’re going to woo women with these methods I’m gonna have to put on a hoop skirt and a cravat.” and when later he mentioned giving someone one of Wadsworth’s poems I actually said “Have you always been this stupid or did something happen to you along the way?” Seriously, his first line of attack was flowers, his last line of attack was other people’s poetry.

And Holly tried to defend these idiotic ideas! She said it might have merit! I am surrounded by amateurs.

When it comes to giving pretty girls presents, there is a wrong way, there is an acceptable way, there is a right and correct way and then way in front of that is the way I do it. We’re talking above and beyond, Medal of Honor stuff if they gave medals for this sort of thing. They don’t, I’ve asked. I have to content myself with the love of the ladies. I’ll cope, somehow.

Now, if you’re wondering what my problem with flowers is, I don’t have one. They’re perfectly nice things to give a girl. I’ve got no problem with poetry either, clearly, I write it all the time. I even send it to nice girls on occasion. It’s just… been done. Like to death.

You may have come to the conclusion, if you’re observant and read what I write, that I get bored easily. Also, I don’t impress easily, so ideas have to be good ones if I’m going to tie them to my pike and raise them over my head. As a result, I look askance on things like flowers and poems. I mean really, what are you going to accomplish with that anyway? Yes, there will be the momentary “Ooo, he lurvs me” moment, but what about after that? What about the next day? What about putting your mark on her mind? What about the brass ring? WHAT ABOUT THE BRASS RING? Can we not reach a little higher, try a little harder? Is there no room for art? The answer is, of course, damn right there is. I’m not just an artist, I’m like goddamn Picasso.

…In that I do things that are new and interesting, not that I treat my girls really badly. Should I have gone with Rothko? No, too much suicide and crankiness. Whatever, I work hard in the field of male/female relations and I hate seeing hard work mired by the comparison. Here are guys putting forth lazy “effort” that is hardly worth the name while I’m working like hell. It’s a disgrace, it really is. I feel like Breugel, standing in the cheap print section of a really crappy art fair where they don’t let anyone with talent enter for fear that someone might want to buy something. So pretty much the Ann Arbor Art Fair on all counts. ZING!

Flowers, and maybe chocolate if they’re feeling expressive, with someone else’s poem? It can’t be the only idea that these guys have in their heads, right? There are other things, aren’t there? They aren’t just rolling the same Sisyphean treat up the slopes of Mount Female* are they? Am I standing on my space-based platform, looking down on the tiny mortals below me, just waiting for Bond to come and get me lest I wipe them all out with a flick of the Omega Device’s on switch?
*No sweetie, you look lovely. Some of us prefer to cuddle a woman with hips and breasts in fact. I have no interest in women with the body of a child.

Flowers are expensive, artificially so in fact. If you order flowers, you are going to get raped up the ass and pay three to four times what the bouquet is worth. Unless you know your florist very well, they’ll just fob off whatever garbage is lying around that they want to get rid of. It’s going to cost a lot, and you’re going to get crap. That is unless you go for the budget option, and you let me know how that goes over there Rockefeller. Seeing as the reason you sent flowers was you couldn’t think of anything better to do, and you can’t even be bothered to pay for it, I bet she’s going to be really impressed. Now what is going to be the best possible reaction to those? Pretty much, “Oh! How sweet! How nice! Thank you!” and that’ll be it. The next day, they’ll be forgotten about.

This week, a few people were feeling really down and in the dumps. So I sent my patented “Cheer up emokid!” kits into the wilderness. My outlay was very small, annoyingly so perhaps. There wasn’t much in them. Just one of these and one of these. Reaction? This is a quote greyweirdo gives the best prezzies! and while it wasn’t for this group there is always “Why do we have other men when there is you?” And they still speak in hushed tones of the day I gave a very nice girl Stonehenge. That was a good one, but she was worth it.

The reason I go into all this is because the conversation was still stuck in my craw. Mainly, as I’ve said, because I despise the lack of creativity expressed within “Oh, I’ll just buy her some flowers.” And the insinuation that my methods would only lead to madness. So I presented the poll, which most of you got right, and I got the feedback about one of the emokid kits from the field. So, I’m feeling a bit smug and supremely self satisfied at the moment.

To sum up, I’m always right and guys would do a damn sight finer if they listened to me more often. Also, it would keep me sharp if there was some kind of competition out there. Mostly though, I want to see the art kept alive. It depresses me to see the same tricks over and over again, without any thought or attempt at originality. For fuck’s sake guys, this isn’t one of your bouts of ritualized homosexuality that you call organized sport. This is IMPORTANT! The last person who beat me at this game was a lesbian and I still maintain she was cheating what with being a woman and all!

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go find seven or ten cardboard boxes covered in fancy paper for… my own purposes that I don’t have to explain to you! Some of us have an art to keep alive, I’ll leave it at that.

September 23, 2009 Posted by | Uncategorized | Leave a comment