Despite being farm raised, and on really special occasions
barn fresh, when it comes to appreciating the fine arts I am in a special class.
Oh sure it may be a really LOW class with only 3 pupils counting myself and
both eyes, but it’s true I do enjoy all kinds of unique art. Since both of my
parents were involved professionally in the arts, it’s no wonder from an early
age I developed a honed, high-class AIR
of sophistication on the subject - though that may be just the talkin’ broccoli
and beans barking.
Sadly my own artistic skills have been more typically
limited to the scratching of straight lines along the back of a ruler, but my wife says it irritates her
so I try to contain myself. Oh sure I’m a master at blobbing fluorescent paint by
the numbers upon fancy black velvet, but as my eyes age it is getting harder to
pay homage to the passing of Elvis by reading to black lights in the bathroom. I’m
lucky though since I still have at least one artistic outlet that I carry right
on the FRONT of the only clean shirt I have left on my back after taxes.
Since I’m naturally clumsy and as a necessity must maintain
my road-hugging girth, I am forced to eat at least ten times a day. Don’t worry
despite my Yeti dimensions I am health conscious and always demonstrate the ‘split side’ of my personality when Dr.
Oz is on by turning my back to the TV, before eating a magazine of Girl Scout
cookies and a carafe of cow. Inadvertently however, during my frequent feedings,
can I help it if I’m genetically part sow so not all of the colorful chow that
I plow actually makes it downtown, but rather ends up on top of my shirt though
I don’t know how.
While a top-drawer gallery is the way most folks get to see
the best of abstract expressionism, my artistic dribbles n’ daily drool make it
far easier for me, since my canvas-covered abs-sack
n’ pecs dresses in ‘em. Yes despite the best that a jug of bleach can leach
from my frocks, over time all of my sticky shirts look like unseen smocks from a closet of the late Jackson
Pollock. Needless to say by day’s end, my
fun drum of a ‘tum’ becomes a bit dotted, spotted, and sprayed by colorful food
trays and an array of buffets making me truly a classy part of all things ART!
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