Overheard Outside the Whitney Museum of Modern Art

"Hey, you like art? You paying big bucks to look at the art in theah? Well, look at this art, right heah. You can take this shit home right now. Not like them Picassos and Rembrandts and shit. You can take one o' these African masks or whatever and hang that shit on your wall tonight, son.

"You don't like the scary voodoo masks? Well, check this shit out, then: authentic African shields! You can hang this on your wall, or lay it out on your table. Hell, you can even use it like a real shield when you're in the middle of a riot when the Mets win and shit.

"Yeah, I know. I'm peddling historical replicas of a very specific culture outside essentially a modern art museum that focuses more on contemporary art from their private collections in small, focused galleries. But fuck it, you know?"

Can a Window Display Change Your Life?

I was about to just caption this "A Window Display Found In Brooklyn," but after a second look, I came to realize how utterly genius this seemingly random arrangement of disparate objects this is.

It is essentially a Neo-Dadaist masterpiece, an installation that is not simply an act by the artist alone– the spectator on the sidewalk brings the interpretation of the piece out in to the world by deciphering and interpreting its inner qualifications and thus adds their contribution to the creative act.

But the piece transcends Dadasim, too, thereby rebelling against rebellion. It overlaps into Abstract Expressionism and Pop Art with its use of found objects, corporate logos, innovative combinations and surprise, eschewing the traditional, methodical creation of art.


What is the meaning of the ParaSpa between the legs of the walker, and behind the erotic single stockinged mannequin leg? Is this "A Christmas Story" tribute? Why is there a beanie baby of a dog lying on the seat? Seriously, what the fuck piss is going on there?

Maddening. Brilliant. Erotic. Stultifying. Stink-a-rooni.

The EADJ Crappinema Presents: Playin' For the Kitty

It is with extreme displeasure that we bring you another installment of the EADJ Crappinema. This time, a sort of Brothers-McMullen-or-Tyler Perry-type ensemble cast movie about relationships. Who knew you could remove the annoying drag queen grandma character and still somehow make it less watchable. Let's begin!


"Playing – sorry, Playin' For the Kitty" is the story of five buddies and the trials and tribulations they face in their romantic relationships. At least that's what it said on the box. In actuality, it's about a bunch of actors delivering average dialogue and flexing for no reason in front of a poorly-lit videocamera. I sense a vague, uncommitted approach to the material from the actors– the same way that a high school Senior would detachedly join the glee club to pad their college application; this movie is strictly a resumé padder.































Some verbatim dialogue at the end of the movie:

Peyton (VO): Well, that brings us back to where we started. Our final game.

Everything worked out. Dewayne and Kayla were good. Keisha and Ty were moving towards commitment. Dre was kicking it with Kim. Jay was being less of a dog and made up with Lance. Chris was still hanging loose. And me, happily married, you could say.

Oh, yeah, the game. Money and the final score? Well, we won.


"We won?" What the fuck kind of answer is that? And I'm not talking about the outcome of the football game, which I could give a fart about (I understand that was some kind of analogy for life) – there was hardly any character arc in any of the individual stories.


Shit like "everything worked out" and "we won" is just a lazy writer's way of saying "I don't want to think about tying all the loose ends and piddly details that I've created, so I'll just cinch it all together at the end, clip it off and say everything worked out." Which is 31 flavors of placenta cockhorse, if you ask me. Cheat!


Booo! You won! Booooo!

Some Totally Unfair Criticism

Okay, I have seen some shit art before, but this might possibly be the blandest, most appalling turd of vanilla-beige cock that my eyes have been unfortunate to be molested by. Still-lifes are boring already, but what's this? A tray carrying a bowl of potpourri and some goddamned bottles of dried flower petals? What kind of fluffy-cloud, Holly Hobby, "I Love Country" dystopian prison camp is this supposed to be from? Rape me.


So you've got some shittily painted petals (not detailed enough to be realistic and not abstract enough to be Impressionistic) sitting in a poorly proportioned bowl that's covered in more smudgily painted petals. That's both meta and piss-poor! Also, it's labeled "POTPOUTTI," either because the painter cannot spell "potpourri" correctly or never learned their lower case r's. Either way, it makes a travesty of both public education and the state of art. What an abortion.


I could further rag on "Garuboa" or "Hamlox" or whatever the piss this person's name is, and how howlingly hilarious I find that they'd think someone would want to copy this artwork illegally, but I can think of more pleasant things to do, like chugging a punchbowl full of diarrhea or watching "Grey's Anatomy."

Shorter. Fatter. Resembles Scott Peterson.

EADJ has learned that Josh Witherspoon spotted The Shorter Fatter Version of Scott Peterson over three weeks ago but neglected to report it. That pretty much amounts to a felony in Illinois.

Josh described being actually "shocked" to see the SFVOSP in the elevator, likening the experience to spotting a celebrity.

Josh's experience adds some stunning new information about the SFVOSP: He apparently is named "Mr. Wood," and he works on the 19th floor, not the 23rd floor as reported before.

Josh's name has now been added to the list of people at the bottom of this page who have spotted The Shorter Fatter Version of Scott Peterson.

(pictured above, Josh's drawing of the SFVOSP, which will be on my refrigerator very soon)


***SFVOSP UDATE***

Andrew Gall also spotted Mister Wood two days ago. Here is his account:

"Fleeting moment with the SFVOSP as he exited the elevator. He was dressed up today, wearing a pink shirt and tie with tan pants. Looked both festive and professional."

EADJ regrets not posting this sooner and now wishes it weren't a felony.