The art industry is really terribly unregulated. It is the prime example of capitalism run wild, the rich getting richer, and white privilege. But artists keep making art that feeds into this oozing hungry hungry hippo, and receive free reign in exchange for the pittance of hope they have of "making it". We aren't held accountable, so art becomes more and more detached from the average human being. We are blasting off while everyone else is still playing with fire. It's awful and magnificent and gluttonous and minimalist. We haven't lost our humanity, we just aren't the same type of human as you and  your Aunt Cathy with a K. As soon as you tell us no, we'll recoil. But only if you matter. And by matter, we mean you have to forget everything that is is to be a person. Not in the We are Devo sort of way, but more that you have to forget the hierarchy, much like the very wealthy and the drug fueled population has shed your silly morals. We are strapping in, selling out, gutting our souls. You better be Mike Kelley or you'll be showing at the Downtown LA Artwalk. Just a block from MoCA but so so far from what matters. Because all these rules are just here to keep you in bed. We want you to call out sick. We want you to say we're too much. White wash our graffiti. Fold your laundry.

I'll not file my taxes and call it art. They'll give me my own island, and I'll write you letters in a language I've made up.

Can't we have some memories.