I’m Actually Torn Between Pinnacle And Cradle
And that’s it. As quickly as it zoomed across the sky –spreading wonder, and mayhem, providing counterpoint to philosophical arguments, and landing in faces both undeserved and richly so — #buttrocket has left us behind. Jeph Jacques has picked up his normal storyline, with nary a mention of the petabyte of porn carried by 2015-TAYLER-AWESOME. Goodbye, #buttrocket, may you find a worthy place to deposit your payload¹; you were perhaps too good for this world.
Speaking of too good for this world, the news broke too late for me to write about it yesterday, but Brandon Bird has crafted no less than the pinnacle — nay, the apotheosis — of art. I speak, naturally, of a series of thirteen oil paintings of Shia LaBeouf encompassing all of his regenerations.
Pack it up, world. Museums, try your best to get the eleven paintings still out of the hands of private collectors, in the hopes that someday all thirteen may be presented together as time, fate, and the universe intend. Those of you without the wherewithal to purchase an original can still get signed prints, or get the entire series of in one glorious bolus of Shia LaBeoufosity. Get it now. Do it for the children.
Spam of the day:
I was going to include one, but the contents of my spam folder now reads Shia LaBeouf over and over for about ten thousand lines. Creepy.
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¹ So to speak.
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