Dr. Haltiwanger's Art-A-Rama Pork & Bean Challenge-Day 3

Well, Day 3 of the pork and bean art challenge and I can tell that the artiste formerly known as The Nose-Picking Fiend, Mark Laba, is getting tired due to the fact he has all the vim and vigour of earwax just beginning to crust over. It's all about inertia and Mr. Laba is obviously following his prescribed path to bitter dissolution whereby his body slowly leaks all of its fluids in a bus shelter while fighting pigeons for discarded French fries and bread crusts. All this to say he's a sad, sad excuse for both a human being and the pencil-wielding bladder of a squashed porcupine that he so uncannily resembles and if incontinence were an art term rather than a condition, Mr. Laba would lead this artistic movement. Enough said. Here's the newest scribblings. Better luck next time, Laba. I only retched twice but I'm enjoying the pork and beans, just as long as I don't look at your drawings before I eat.

Dr. Haltiwanger's Art-A-Rama Pork & Bean Challenge-Day 2

Well, it's the second day of the pork'n'bean art marathon and that lily-livered, knuckle-dragging charlatan of the arts, Mark Laba, has managed to cram yet another pen into his self-abuse cramped fist and produce some more crap suitable for lining the cages of diarrhea-suffering parrots. "Down and dirty, fast and loose," is how Mr. Laba explained these latest renderings to me and I believe those were the famous last words of Fast Eddie before Minnesota Fats whipped his ass on the nine-ball table and later had his thumbs broken by a two-headed man in a back alley outside of Medicine Hat. On that note these drawings are visually not unlike rendered fat except at least one you can cook with while the other wouldn't even make good toilet paper, coffee filters or a shim to stick under the leg of a wobbly table at the Legion Hall.

Dr. Haltiwanger's Art-A-Rama Pork & Bean Challenge-Day 1

I was poking around in my larder the other day when I noticed that my pork and bean supplies were alarmingly depleted and in order to remedy the situation I hatched this little plan. Now I'm not an artist (who needs the anxiety, headaches and sweatpants stained with paint and foie gras grease not to mention an ego the size of a neck goiter like my neighbour, Boris, the unemployed Zamboni driver has) but I know of one man, that paramecium of a human, Mark Laba, who fancies himself a bit of an artiste (his sweatpants stink like a bullfrog during mating season) and gave him this challenge. Three drawings a day for five days and I would faithfully post the results to the hordes of the Haltiwanger admirers out there, but it would come at a price. Each drawing posted would cost Mr. Laba a can of pork and beans (or the monetary equivalent), and so by my calculations, five days would garner me a whopping fifteen cans of mechanically de-boned meat and bean succulence, whether it be in a molasses or tomato-based sauce. I would have charged Mr. Laba more but I didn't want to overstate my case and cause him to wet his pants in the process or scare him off or both, knowing Mr. Laba's weak tendencies and cowardly temperament. But at that price I knew that his fat head filled with delusions of artistic success would compel him to sweat blood and ink for five days and supply me with the following monstrosities, along with a healthy supply of pork and beans to add to the old larder.

So off to work went that pariah of the palette, that wannabe artiste who should frankly have his beret flambéed in front of him while someone beats him soundly with a baguette upon his balding pate until he has some sense knocked into him and goes back to his calling, which is point man on the dog turd cleaning brigade with the rest of the parolees.

Anyway, here's the first batch of block-headed, ham-fisted scribblings and just for your knowledge, all of them gave me acid reflux and one of them actually made me incontinent.

Dr. Haltiwanger's Art-A-Rama

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.

Dr. Haltiwanger's Art-A-Rama

My hunger for pork'n'beans, like the universe, is a boundless thing, which is why I am again posting more of Mr. Laba's degenerate art work to keep the money for those cans flowing. What can I say about Mr. Laba's endeavors except that he certainly knows how to massacre paper with pen and ink but at least it keeps his hands busy because he would no doubt be abusing himself relentlessly were it not for this little hobby of his. Monkey-fisted, ham-headed, worm-brained, the endless analogies to his physiological and psychological make-up escape me although descriptive words like priapic, paunchy and perverted certainly top the list. Beneath you will find his newest creation, a piece I found so distasteful I charged him five cans of pork and beans to post it. He calls it "The Sleep of Reason Produces Few Reasons For Sleep," but I call it "You Better Sleep With One Eye Open Like The Guy In Your Picture, Laba, Because When The Pork & Bean Money Runs Out I'm Gonna Kill You!"

Dr. Haltiwanger's Art-A-Rama

Well, dear readers, it's that time again where that bozo from British Columbia, Mark Laba, has paid me in pork and bean money to splat his artwork up on my widely read and much talked about blog. He's now paying me in rolls of nickels and dimes, the brown paper rolls stained with the remnants of his Cheezie-dusted fingerprints but even if he's nickel and diming me to death, I have to take his money as per our previous agreement. Obviously things are taking a turn for the worse for Mr. Laba if he's resorting to paying me with rolls of coins, coins he no doubt fished out of the fountain at the local mall when security wasn't looking. Nevertheless, a man's got to eat and every roll of coins is another notch in my pork'n'bean belt while Mr. Laba, one can safely assume, can't even give his art away due to its infantile rendering and contemptible subject matter. That he even grips a pen in that monkey-fist he calls a hand (a hand that would be much more well-suited to self-pleasuring than attempting any drawing) is an abomination upon the art world and I've seen better results from diarrhea splatters in the toilet bowls of public restrooms than the crude markings Mr. Laba scrawls on cheap paper he finds in wastebaskets. He calls this new drawing "The Loneliness of the Long Distance-Calling Ventriloquist with Walrus" but I think "Laba Licks Urinal Pucks" is more fitting. Those urinal pucks might also explain how he hallucinates and then renders such distasteful themes. Lay off the urinal pucks, Laba, whether you're sniffing or licking them because they'll rot whatever is left of your pine-scented brain. As for the walrus, wishful thinking on his part because no walrus would have sex with him even if he were the last mammal on the ice floe and he had seal meat strapped to his scrawny, pallid body and fake tusks fashioned from toilet paper rolls stuck with his own snot to his face. Anyway, try to enjoy the drawing and I'll certainly be enjoying my pork and beans.

Dr. Haltiwanger's Art-A-Rama

Dear readers, it's time again for me to post another of that miscreant who calls himself a man, Mark Laba's artistic endeavors even though I'm starting to think he's paying me with counterfeit twenties. Nevertheless, the lady at the Shop'n'Go casts nary a glance at the bills I produce and thus my pork and beans and Chef Boyardee Beefaroni larder is bursting at the seams with chemically enhanced and mechanically de-boned goodness and nutrition. So, up goes another messy piece of pen and ink from a man who must make mucilage his muse judging by his disgusting and talentless work not to mention the crusty stains that always seem to speckle his shirt and pants. In this drawing I believe he his attempting some sort of metaphorical rendering of that keftede-headed Casanova of Crete, the famed Telly Savalas, depicted in all his post-Kojak glory. Or maybe it's pre-Kojak, who can tell from these puerile pen-on-paper markings that would make even goat droppings on broken concrete seem like a Matisse. I believe Mr. Laba calls this one "Who Loves You, Baby," but "Who Loathes You, Laba" would be more fitting.