Dear Steve Harper,
My name is Mike, though my buddies call me Mikey. I just read about what you said about them fancy-pants artists. Me and my family could not agree more!
Like you, I'm an ordinary people. I work hard. When I'm not working, I enjoy watching hockey, drinking beer, eating stuff and tinkering with my Chevy.
Anyhow, when I come home at night, I don't want to see no rich gala! I don't want to see any gala! What is a gala? I bet it's something for elites, and that's all I need to know. Oh, look at me! I'm an elite! I'm going to my gala tonight! I'm too good for bowling!
Who are these “artists” who can't make a go of it on there own? These elites need our president to say, "Enough! We're not going to give you any more money so you can become a billionaire making animal balloons in the nude while hanging upside down in a tree. That's not art!"
I got nothing against trees or even animal balloons, which can be pretty cool. I once saw this guy make a camel. It was awesome. But this guy was not an "artist." He was just an ordinary people who worked at the Ex.
When my son was younger, he used to spend hours doodling with his crayons. One day, I started reading the words on his crayons.
I was shocked.
"Hey, boy!" I screamed. "Get in here!"
He walked into the room, carrying his sister's Barbie.
"Boy, there will be no more crayons in my home! What the hell is Burnt Sienna, Atomic Tangerine, Fuzzy Wuzzy Brown and Mango Tango?"
"They're just colours, father."
"Blue, red and white are colours. Maybe even purple. But this elite Crayola trash will brainwash you into becoming an artist and that'll happen over my dead body. Now put down that damn doll and go play with the truck I bought you!"
You know, Steve, I just wanted to say where with you 110 %. I'm sick and tired of these whiney elites always crying into their rich coffees. If they want money, they should earn it, like the rest of us.
I think you should organize a weekly hockey game between ordinary people and artists. If they win, we'll give them a few bucks so they can make more glue statues and whatnot. If they lose, they have to get a real job.
Me, I'd love to go into the corner with some elite who's never done an honest days work in his life. Hey, Mr. Glass Jaw, meet Mr. Elbow! Now that would be alot of fun.
Good luck with the elektion!