Friday, October 5, 2012

Snobs: a story or a fable or a mindless rant or something

People turned their noses up at Dickens. They shunned Poe. Van Gogh was utterly and indisputably ignored, while Kafka died from starvation. At the time of his death, Thoreau had published only two books, which were not well received. The Ramones were mostly a joke until the end of their career, and William Blake died poor and unknown and buried in an unmarked grave.

I could use this as a form of encouragement, but I’m not going to. What I’m using it for it to simply say:

Hey, snobs, get over yourselves. Get out of your dumbass high school mentality cliques and look at things for what they are.  Art is art.  You can take it or leave it. Liking it or not liking it does not make you a better person, and who you like or dislike results in the same thing. You’re just as great as Dickens or Van Gogh but you’re no better than the poor person working the graveyard shift at the Seven-Eleven (in this case I think Dickens and Van Gogh and the poor person working the graveyard shift at the Seven-Eleven are all interchangeable). Snobbery might sometimes look cool, like smoking, but the end result is usually a repelling one.

Don’t really know where this all came from, but there it is.

Hope to see you at the Sock Hop.


  1. Word, my brutha. Anyone doing something that raises the odd eyebrow is suspect, and to be feared. I want to believe we have grown beyond our puritan heritage. But sometimes I wonder. Sock hop, yes. I'll be the guy in the powder blue leisure suit and pink carnation, with a small mustard stain on the lapel.

  2. Well stated. I think you're my new best friend. ;-)