Short reviews of pretty much whatever. Finally, you can discover if Frosted Flakes Gold has more social worth than Illmatic or Romeo and Juliet by Shakespeare.
Prairie Oysters are bull testicles that have been peeled (and sometimes flattened), and either battered and deep-fried or served in a demi-glace. They're pretty good, but if I'm gonna eat a bunch of deep-fried stuff, I think I prefer clams. I wonder if that makes me an institutional homophobe.
Often delicious, meat can start to suck when you eat a whole lot of it and almost nothing else for like three days straight. Ow, my colon! Somebody please just give me a bowl of spinach, thank you.
Damien Hirst is a British artist who's famous for installation pieces featuring dead animals floating in formaldehyde that sell for exorbitant amounts of money. He also does "spin paintings," which are created by someone (not Hirst himself, but one of his employees) dripping paint onto a flat, revolving surface. His piece For the Love of God, pictured here, was fashioned from a real human skull to which he affixed 8,601 diamonds. Whenever I think of Damien Hirst, I'm reminded of the painter Rabo Karabekian from Kurt Vonnegut's Breakfast of Champions, who "with his meaningless pictures had entered into a conspiracy with millionaires to make poor people feel stupid" (Vonnegut 214). Hirst doesn't even paint most of his own pictures, and I think the idea of the mastermind conceptual artist taking all the credit for merely signing his name on the work of others, especially as some sort of "ironic" critique of capitalism and mass production, was fraudulent and boring when Andy Warhol did it 40 years ago.
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