Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Garden Of Promise


"When a close friend lost loved ones, I was amazed to see the serenity and peace that filled his heart. It was almost as if, despite the hardship of parting, he was already anticipating the joyful reunion that lay ahead. He reminded us that he would "see them again soon." I chose a garden with a rambling stone walkway climbing up through flower hedges to illustrate my tribute to the hope many of us share of the better times that lie ahead.

— Thomas Kinkade"

This is the Garden of Promise. Would you go in there? The silvery fog of eerie chemical particulates wrapped in vapor is encroaching pretty close in this one. Usually this spectral fog is farther off in the distance. Here it's right on the other side of the gate. The gate of the garden of promise. Whenever I see someone with peace and serenity in their heart at the loss of loved ones I start to look for a motive for murder. Thomas Kinkade however sees things different. He admires the guy. And why is the fellow going to "see them again soon"? Because of the suicide after the family slaughter? And where IS the fucking garden he "chose." You can't even see it. There could be an alligator pit in there. He HAHA also "chose a garden with a rambling stone walkway..." When the fuck does he NOT choose a rambling stone walkway, fa crise sakes. He's got the things coming out his and our asses. And how the fuck does that illustrate hope. You can't even see IN to that fucking garden. It's crawling with toxic gas. This painting, just as a painting, does not present a garden: it depicts a barrier. There is not even a subject matter in this painting. It's just some stuff with creepy-colored plants all over the place. He chose a garden with a rambling stone walkway. My fucking ass he did. I can't get over this. Where the fuck is the stone walkway rambling to. It never gets the CHANCE to fucking ramble. It's hardly even present. It's like he's taunting the reader of the description to try not to get pissed. I guess he knows his readers, none of them ever do. They go-along with all this muck and blather.

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