so sphinx, what are the actual origins of that statement? what were the artists intentions behind it?
after having visited the republic of south tanganea and questioning its inhabitants about their living condition, they presented me with six large baskets of partially melted wax and mangoes which they thought was gold. this assumption was based on the fact that ny'jub had left an obscene amount of mangoes on several naturally growing cubes of wax because he had heard that a new girl was coming into the village at around that time, and he wanted make his best impression on her (for we all know that mango pickers are almost at the middle of society
- king conditioner
- gift tender
- mango picker
- banana grower
- fish catcher)
so he skipped off to the center of village to meet the girl. meanwhile the mangos (far away from any animal's reach atop the cubes of wax, with the exception of the birds who were busy eyeing the new girl in town to see when she would drop dead) began to rot in the sun as the wax melted. the two substances fused together to form a muddy orange/yellow solid when night came, and when the locals found it (except ny'jub) they absolutely went berserk. ny'jub had been murdered several hours after his mangos had began the rotting process as the girl was really a hired assasin who mistook him for a korean arms trader named randy trumpeter. his corpse was stashed in the volcano and she continued to live a long, happy life in the village after that incident. the birds ate her when she died. anyhoo, the locals found these slabs of what they assumed was gold, chopped them up finely into power and placed them in six identical baskets as a gift to the king. the gift tender, whose son was the mango picker was frantically looking for his son and thus could not supervise the gift giving to the king. in his absence, the baskets of gold were mistook for a basket of condoms which had fell off a double hijacked plane (MIT graduates planned on making a condom airstrike at their own campus, so they hijacked an army storage jet, accidentally took three lefts instead of two at the mountain, ended up above mexico and were hijacked once again by a group of communist parachuters who took the plane by storm and shot all the grads in a ritualistic style, except for the pilot who they forgot about. as one of the communist parachuters entered the cockpit, a fight ensued and several buttons were pressed, one of which opened the cargo bay doors. the grad shot the communist parachuter in the arm, he collapsed in pain over the control and the plane began flipping. this box of airtight condoms that had fallen out of the plane remained remarkably intact, landed in front of the minister's house who assumed it was a sign from god, and put it in his sacred shrine of signs from god. the plane crashed into his house (he lived on the other side of the volcano where no one lived, nobody really noticed anything other than a faint boom). the box of condoms flew high over the volcano, and landed directly beside the gift tender's house. the king was delivered the box, which he used all 362 condoms for preserving different kinds of legumes. i, on the other hand, was waiting by the shore, just about ready to leave on my boat. i lugged all six baskets of wax and mango (the stench was awful), and not wanting to be rude, i wished everyone good luck. the king presented me with a legume, so i decided to eat it there, and at the sight of the volcano erupting behind everyone, i choked in surprise, and a portion of the legume landed in my lung. this portion happened to be infected with a moderately nasty little bacteria who ate away at your bronchial tubes. and not wanting to disturb the locals, i told them nothing about the erupting volcano (fearing they would want my boat) and i set off back to north america. halfway through my journey, i began coughing violently (on account of the bacteria) and had very little gas left in my boat. i realized that i could travel further by dumping all the baskets off the boat, so i moved them all to one side, and decided that i would start throwing them off. unfortunately i had balanced the boat perfectly with all six baskets, so at this time the boat began to tilt at an angle i can only describe as uncomfortable. at the point i was unable to breathe even though i was above water (my bronchial tubes were almost demolished), and the next thing i knew, the boat had capsized and i was underneath it. the baskets began to sink down, and in doing so, all the powder exited the baskets when the flaps opened in a violent motion. still keeping above surface although unable to breathe, i noticed all the powder had floating to the top, forming a foamy surface free of any water. wanting to see sunlight in my last few seconds of life, i tried to take one last gasp of air while going under the surface, and in doing so i inhaled a good section of the powder on the surface. the salt in the wax reacted with antitoxins in the mango, killing all bacteria that had multiplied in my lungs. i surfaced on the other side coughing and hacking, and collapsed onto the top of the boat. after several of hours of sleeping on top of the boat (seals had come and stolen my wallet moments after initally sleeping), i awoke and detached the motor from underneath. realizing it was a dangerous but entierly necessary thing to do, i straddled the motor, put my feet on the front of the motor, and pulled the cord. exactly one and two thirds of a mile later, i slipped off the back of the motor, the blades sliced one-two-three-four-five-six times into my tailbone, and the motor went flying off in a million different directions at once.
blood, sure, severed tailbone, definetly, true love? no.
i don't like communist parachuters. i definetly do not care for hitler.