Ted Rall for December 05, 2005

Transcript:

Boring studies. My eyes are frighteningly far apart. I'm like a female Charlie Brown, or Clinton. Gum whitener. One can always resort to rendering the inane as obtuse, deploying geometric flow charts to intellectualize the vapid, repetitive to evoke the reader's recognition and soft earth tones to make it all look purty on the printed page. So what is a man to do when his powers of observation are limited to the mundane? But what if someone notices? Well? To wit: People who fail to understand, mortified at the fear of being called Philistines, will declare you "the finest working artist ever, bar none" (Chicago reader) while finally confessing, when drunk, that you must be "for the kids." Always pretend to be: humble, gentle & self-effacing. And depressed! (Maybe even medicated) it masks your barely-repressed & very unattractive rage. It would be sad were it not so incredibly boring. Hence: it's a cold.