I've been very busy the past couple of weeks on new project I will bring forward eventually meaning soon. I have been laboring on an oil painting rich with colors and textiles which I am calling "Man contemplative in Esso gas station, circa 1970." For funny joke I was not terribly amused by told to me by my friend Dale, look here: "You ought to call it "Man constipated in Esso gas station." Dale is not knowledged man in art matters as is obvious by his poor remark in regards to my artwork.
My friend Dale, of course you will remember as heavy church-goer with unsatisfied nyphomaniac wife who often lets slit in skirt ride high on the thigh when yours truly, Berhardt Goats comes to dinner and also many drinks. A favorite film of mine is "The Man Who Came To Dinner" as I believe it deals with similar subject matter.
Unlike Dale I spend a great deal of time reading art books and reading auction magazines. Many oil paintings such as the one I am working on have sold for millions of dollars. According to my calculations I should be able to sell mine for around $800,000 at auction when I finish painting it. While my lack of name recognition in the art world, with the exception of appearing on many post-it notes and "While You are Away" phone message pads, I have something of a marketing weakness that will drive down the sale price. On the upside, I am alive while many of these other artists are long dead, which allows me to attend book signings at Barnes & Noble, look on at auctions and make other public appearances, driving up the value of my art. When I die I imagine my earning power will be somewhat reduced in most ways.
Penniless noder name of maxClimb has asked me to make an Energizer Bunny reference. This is it. Still no new reports on lesbian co-workers at CWAF, Ltd. as I've been working from home nights to fulfill my commitments there. Noder haze, apparently some sort of legal expert according to his wordiness has warned me about admitting openly to securities fraud. White collar crime is something I work to eliminate as it hurts no one and takes cops away from drug deals and whores.
Moving right along I expect my oil painting to be complete by Christmas in time for the January art auctions. I've already written to several requesting admission and asked for paperwork needed to enter my oil painting into the selling ring. I've requested minimum bid to be set at $200,000 as such a low price will encourage rabid bidding from art buyers. It may get more than $800,000 in a rabid bidding war but as things stand I'm only expecting an $800,000 payday.
As I work on my painting (this morning I finished putting flourishes on some of the flowers that adorn the top of the tank in the Esso restroom featured in my work), I think about how I work three jobs, between sales work at CWAF, Ltd. and part time gigs as an unqualified remedial science teacher and a substantially less unqualified substitute gym teacher, and still have time to work on an oil painting. If the poor weren't so lazy and drunk they could paint three or four oil paintings a month and even if they only sold each one for $200,000 they would still pick up close to a million dollars every month. Yes, these figures are per month. Put this week's beer and grass money aside to buy art supplies and you'll be on the money train soon. Oil paintings sell for big money. This is called pulling yourself up by your bootstraps.
My new friend Chopper, a Harley Davidson motorcycle enthusiast and Vietnam veteran with three steel plates in his head, not just one, told me he makes money by going to the homes of destitute people and offering them ten bucks and a case of beer for their furniture. He then turns around and sells the furniture on eBay for $500-$1000, after which he sends a little note card to the original owners of sold furniture detailing the extent of his profit margin and then writing "LOSER" in big black letters below. Chopper also warns me of a rising insurgency in the Greater Baltimore Area. Apparently a rebel army is forming to overthrown the Maryland government and Chopper wants me in his counterinsurgency army. I told him he has to wait until after my painting is done.