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How good it made them feel, these well-meaning Upper West Side transplants, buying organic produce they didn’t even have to wash from a handsome black man who would greet them with an exotic fist bump! An attractive, articulate chap, not unlike the young senator from Illinois they had just congratulated themselves for nominating, who would show the world that slavery was behind us and that we could appreciate hip-hop. Yes! So many pretty boxes to check all at once!
Women, she realized, were scared to be assholes. And what is any artist, really, but someone who doesn’t mind being an asshole?
How many times did people have to prove that anything could be art before we could finally admit that very little was actually art?
