“There Was a Crooked House….”
…called our Cultural Establishment. Of crooked little men and cash-flush caitiffs and assorted other denizens of the ongoing cultural scam with their crooked little smiles and crooked sixpence.
Have you ever wondered where all the trashy literature and modern anti-art comes from? Or, rather, have you ever scratched your head in wonder about who paid to have it produced? In large part, we, the taxpayers pay for it, through Federal, State, and local taxes. These unreadable, boring, super-naturalistic or unclassifiable novels, those “controversial” or shock-jock or feminist shock-crotch plays, the sculpture that looks like debris from the collapse of the World Trade Center on 9/11, the crucifixes in jars of urine, the welded-together auto parts, the cheapjack, hand-held camera movies one can find by the wheelbarrow-load on Netflix, each crediting half a dozen or more oddly-named production companies – these are also the products of private grant money.
Private sector grants are made annually in the billions of dollars. So, we can’t blame the Federal, state, or local governments for everything that’s rotten. The boards and selection committees of dozens of “charitable” foundations, big and small, are also responsible for littering the cultural landscape with consumable, throw-away rubbish.