Another couple of rolls of nickels and dimes have arrived
along with the acquisition of more cans of pork and beans on my part, which means it’s time to dust off those berets and
prepare yourself for the newest artistic debacle from that
degenerate of the palette, Mark Laba. Mr. Laba calls
this one Pongo’s Revenge. I’m not sure which of the actual characters depicted
is Pongo but honestly, they all seem to be, in varying degrees, self-portraits
of Mr. Laba himself in his various states of self-delusion and the duress he suffers from his constant meat sweats. I, unfortunately, don't have the luxury of sweating out the residue of beef, pork or poultry as one would be hard-pressed to actually find a piece of meat in any of the umpteen cans of pork and beans that line the shelves of my clothes closet, but then I'm just a simple janitor whereas Mr. Laba leads the life of the idle, meat-eating, pen-wielding, masturbating rich, creating his artistically useless pieces of dreck that no doubt have brought him untold riches that he's acquired fobbing off his scrawls and scratches to unsuspecting clients at the senior citizen's home where, behind every bedpan hides a blank cheque book. All I can say is that with this newest entry Mr. Laba proves that once again he is the Picasso of pimple juice, the Rembrandt of rectal ooze, the Caravaggio of semen crust and all I can hope is that he chokes on a piece of steak before he can finish his next piece. As for me, I don't have to worry about suffering such a fate because those beans go down easy...easy like a Sunday morning.
