I always wondered what Planet Earth’s, receptionist’s office looked like, then I realized I was sitting and soaking in it. The toil and the toiling that goes on in this 3 ft by 3 ft space is absolutely earth fornicating. It started off humbly enough, just a nook to help facilitate the reverence I have toward wonderfully crafted film and TV, then I started getting calls for Earth.
Whenever my landlord dares to come in to demand payment of rent, he pauses then falls to his knees and begs for forgiveness. This slice of Brooklyn in which I rest my perfect ass, has seen robots yelling at children, cops giving midgets a second chance, swearing sandwiches rip a guy a new one; along with visitors from abroad snapping pictures and a trail of glorious paramedical products.

Let’s take look around this fucking hairdo of an office shall we:

Here is a picture of Earth’s office. Simple enough.

An empty box of Madame Pearl’s codeine cough syrup which I chugged with 3 Chinese skinheads driving through the streets of Beijing listening to ska music. We’ were all klass and each had our own bottle. So, it reminds me to slow down and get a little hobo-high on life and just, you know, stop and smell the slow mo.

Ohh gosh. This is a special part of the office. I sit in this sector when I need to reflect on the fact that life isn’t always a joke. That’s a “Kick Drugs Out of America” patch (denim vest that will honor it TBD) which Chuck Norris sent me after I send him a passionately charged, anti-drug poetry slam. Which was a joke. He sent a t-shirt too but I have since worn it into anti-drug dust, which I collected and then snorted.
Below Cuck’s patch is a picture of Nick Mcabe Lokos with his then lover and then Governor Sarah Palin. Nick went all the way to Alaska just to get this picture taken with her. They were a great couple. Nick is a sociopath.

Ahh yes. A portion of my private art collection. TThis piece is simply titled “Sheena Easton” and that’s where it all stops being simple. This work has been the focus of days long debates about it’s motivation by some of the stoned-est minds available.
FAQ’s: Is that “Jo” from “Facts of Life”?
Who’s piano is that and why the Unicorn? (The answer seems to be “because these motherfuckers belong together!”)
KF? Artist’s initials or cryptic message?
Was it drawn by a young dandy lad or a wee, butch , tween lass?
It is also most importantly unrepentant about being the strongest argument I’ve come across in New York for having every gallery and artist shut themselves down. This perfect work of art should be titled “Take a long fuggin hike art, you are finished”

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