Get down and boogie.
Gotta get down...
Get down and funky.
Gotta get DOWN!
It's disco fever baby, it's catching like a fever, baby.
Disco fever? Yeah, disco fever!
Bow diddleh bow bow - bow... diddleh... BOW BOW!
Getting funky, honey.
Getting sexy, darlin'.
You gotta get d- get d- get d- GET DOWN AND PARTY! PARTY -apartypartyPARTY.
(followed by random beatboxing for five minutes, fading into a political discourse regarding Marx, Engels and Damian Trotsky - Leon Trotsky's less well known younger sister* - while a woman, painted green, fellates a scarecrow, and a man in a charcoal grey suit performs audits on members of the audience for a reduced rate)
This is the sort of art that my very good friend Andrew Bolt would like to see gone - finished - finito - caput - caputo.
BLACK-SKIVVY ELITISM, he calls it. No-people art, he calls it... or something like that. The point is, he doesn't like the taxpayer (that's us) paying for art that hardly nobody goes to see cos it's too wacky.
Well, as an occasional artiste who intends to never suckle at the teat of the State, I say... LIGHTEN THE FUCK UP, ANDREW!
How is it any more justified for the taxpayer to fund popular art than it is for them to fund unpopular art?
They both have the same redeeming social value, which is to say, you can't measure their value to society, cos they are pretty pictures and whatnot. The only actual good they can do is if someone is inspired to do something positive by them.
But equally, people can be inspired to do something negative by art.
And really, if a piece of cloth with some pigment slapped on it is inspiring you to do something, it's probably something you were going to do anyway.
So, why fund art from the public purse? Why not? It's pretty, and it keeps artists off the streets.
In conclusion: In communist society, where nobody has one exclusive sphere of activity but each can become accomplished in any branch he wishes, society regulates the general production and thus makes it possible for me to do one thing today and another tomorrow, to jive in the morning, groove in the afternoon, boogie in the evening, make it fantastic after dinner, just as I have a mind, without ever becoming hunter, fisherman, herdsman or disco duck. Shicka-shicka!
*How do I know all these commie names? Well, Marx and Engels are things that I picked up through regular old education... They're like, the big names of commieunism. Trotsky is a weird one... the first I heard of him was when I was accused of being a trotskyite by the PYL. I think the fact that I got his name wrong above the first time around (I called him Joseph) belies the fact that I am not knowledgable regarding such things. The only other thing I know about him is that he had a theory of "permanent revolution," which doesn't seem very fun.