For once, I'm speechless (but hoping you're not) ping... ;o)
So close to a Darwin award, so close . . .
You can't make this stuff up.
I bet a film of him hopping through the desert would be more entertaining than his drwing.
Headline:
Prisoner escapes from jail, calls himself an artist and local authorities unwittingly assist in removing restraints.
This reminds me of a protestor that The Daily Show got ahold of. it was HILAROIUS.
The guy made a sign that butchered the phrase "No Blood For Oil" (I forget what it said), then chained himself to the handle of double doors that were CLEARLY marked as the back entrance and said "use front entrance." The doors were below ground level, so nobody could easily see down there, and to make matters worse, he did it on a saturday morning when the office was closed. Furthermore, he had the WRONG BUILDING. He wanted to chain himself to the office of the state agricultural dept, but accidentally chose the building of a charity. Last but not least, he LOST THE KEY! So it wasnt until an officer on patrol found him 18 HOURS LATER that he was freed.
Ah, the left!
(I'm going to look for the video because, if you havent seen it, you MUST!)
"I'd hop a mile for a camel."
Starving artist dies of thirst in the desert.
Trevor, this is why we have the buddy system. Next time you want to chain your legs together in an abandoned mine shaft, make sure you're with your buddy!
""He brought it down with him," Ford said. "It was a pretty good depiction of how a chain would look wrapped around your legs.""
Not an impressionist, obviously.
I'm an artist............... but not that kind.
Art Ping
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Anyone who "camps" in abandoned mines IS a Darwin award
candidate.
Too bad he made it out of the mine, it would have made
for a much more macabe story in ten or twenty years.
I hate to ask a stupid question, but, even if he did want to change his legs so that he could draw a realistic depiction of chained legs, why lock it? I mean, you can't SEE whether or not it is actually locked, can you?
I've heard of method acting. This then, I suppose, is method art gone awry. Occasionally, idiot bohemian artist stories like this bob to the surface, but most working artists I know lead quiet, ordinary lives without feeling the need to wrap themselves in chains or cover themselves in excrement. It's like most professions: some doctors are quacks, some lawyers are shysters, some artists are kooks. Which doesn't mean I don't cringe a little inside when I read something like this. As Bugs Bunny would say, 'What a maroon.'