This Painting Is Ruining My Life

You heard me. This painting is ruining my life:

I apologize for starting your work week off in such a disturbing way.
But I feel that the only way to free myself from the horror of this painting is to write about it. I snapped this photo yesterday. This abomination resides in a disgusting little “art” shop in my neighborhood. (Art is in quotes because I cannot in good faith refer to the shitstorm of revolting items in that shop as actual art.) But this putrid painting waits for me day after day, taunting me with its sheer hideousness because no one is fool enough to buy it. Instead, this demon painting has been haunting my dreams, my waking thoughts, has caused me to cross the road en route to the liquor store because it just upsets me too much.

Honestly. Look at this thing:

That sad, ugly face and inside the sad, ugly face that gross love making couple. (Because let’s be clear: those two are not having sex or fucking. Nay! That is love making. I can almost feel the warmth of the fireplace and hear the saxophone music.) But it’s so scary that this love making couple is trapped inside this creepy woman’s head.

This vile painting manages to stir up unpleasant teenage memories, when I lived on Whidbey Island. (No, it’s not what you think.)

There was a photo service inside our local supermarket. I guess they were trying to get fancy and arty. They wanted to prove that this wasn’t just some point and shoot operation. Oh no. These supermarket photogs had serious skills. So as you walked in the door, you were confronted with a massive, scary photo of this fat couple seated at a restaurant booth. By the magic of supermarket photography, they were stuffed inside a cognac glass. How romantic! This fat couple was just squished inside this cognac glass. Smiling in that cognac glass like it was the time of their lives. Meanwhile, they were trapped in there forever…

But back to this painting.

I haven’t even discussed the creepy Muppet hand. Look at that thing! It’s terrifying. Looks like Ernie or Bert dropped by to give someone a hand job.

But the real question is: what the hell is the point of this painting? Is she remembering long-ago Muppety sex with this guy? Or is she a stalker, hiding in the bushes, watching this Muppety couple going at in their home? Ugh. I can’t stand it.

Whew. Well. I think I got everything off my chest. Maybe I can get on with my life now. Start anew, face the day with a fresh sense of purpose.
Of course, I don’t know what the actual title of this painting is, but from now on I’m calling it, “Psychotic Dreams of Muppet Sex”

Unless you’ve got a better one…

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