art house

for this evenings entertainment we have death by brain tumor followed by near death by heroin overdose - happy days all around...

the astonishing thing about my morbid curiosity is that it is peaked by the macabre. put on the latest buster of pop and within minutes i am in dream land dreaming of nothing, no thoughts, just blackness.

so how do these pop out another episode of the same shite busters command such massive amounts of attention? why do the flocks run head first into the rocky cliffs below in a bid to increase some studios silk lined chino's?

down with the trilogy of the next comic, churned out without so much as an inkling of what the author of the text was attempting to comment on and onwards or perhaps backwards to the truth of a story, a glimpse of another world, a show of what should be told but has been left on the cutting floor as we march forward to an era of arts decay...