A Gustatory Ode to Capitalist Coprophagia

[DIzzIE]

This one's quite barren, only five images so as to forego the luxuries of ambiguity; entitled A Gustatory Ode to Capitalist Coprophagia, enjoy! ;)

http://img147.imageshack.us/img147/1268/coprophagia4ez2.png

[gbu-36]

Capitalism rocks so much

[DIzzIE]

I guess I'll venture a guess at a possible interpretation...

Surrealism is in deep shit. Surrealist imagery has become slathered over with thick brushes of consumption entrenched with the parasitic nanoparticles of capital. The surrealist project of tapping into streams of unconsciousness through spontaneous free form association has been replaced with a trademarked and patented oil rig with the express intent of boring into the imagination and, upon immediately bottling whatever elusive elixir has thusly been sucked forth, hurrying it off to the store shelves. What we are seeing, with our dead eyes, is thus the ruthless assimilation of the surreal into the now all-pervasive assembly line.

The mind has become the ass, whose wondrous by-products are hurriedly boxed and shelved in the department store, so as to be ready to be consumed and regurgitated, albeit through the southern mouth, all the while the counter of the one-armed bandits spins ever higher, the stock market charts go through the roof, and in the spirit of hemispheric inversion, simultaneously burrow all the deeper into the ground. Thusly mired in the glistening stench of profit accumulation, the artist is subjugated, with varying degrees of willingness, to a simple formulaic inequality which dictates all artistic endeavors: $ > *

This diamond tether, having been wrangled ever-so-tightly around the mind so as to turn it into a grayed lump of amorphous excrement, also has the convenience of providing the capitalist with easy access to the surreal via it?s now-situatedness, an imposition of Cartesian coordinates. All one has to do to access that great submerged iceberg of the unconscious is peer underneath the bowels of the outhouse-turned-factory. The coprophilic delights of coprophagia notwithstanding, I find the present situation troublesome not so much for the sake of the individual participants, for after all the only holy water of access to me is a stream of urine that?s naught much better than the current humors of choice, rather my outcry is based on the horror that the ethereal can now be bottled and sold, and therefore controlled.

Thus, far from being an appeal for the veneration of the elusively sacred, I reconstruct the battle against this new vampirism strictly on survivalist, and therefore defensive, grounds; they?ll be coming for our brains next. Lest the only mode of pseudo-resistance akin to this tract itself be construed as naught more than logorrheic outpourings, the result of an overdose on over the counter laxatives, I will further suggest a self-destructive antidote as exemplified by the culinary art of culture jamming surpassed via full-frontal culture wars. In other words, what better way to kill the undead vampyr than to feed it bad blood?

Or, as several comrades have now suggested, print this out and stick it on ATMS, art books, and so on.

[BlinD]

Or the short version... "Shit Head".