Welcome, my fellow Americans, to another installment of How Western Art Died. It should be pretty obvious to any honest man now that America is no longer producing great artists — and one of the main reasons for that is the acclaim and awards that go to the utter trash that is woke “art.”
If young people are told that bananas taped to poster board, random paint spatters, and curses against cops are “art,” naturally they will not produce the next “Moby Dick” or Mona Lisa — they will produce more trash, of the kind they have been taught to admire. Art has been in a bad way for a long time — certainly since that brutal butcher of beauty, Picasso, became big — but it has now become a mere joke in America, whether paintings, architecture, poetry, or fiction.
This is not to say there are not excellent artists who could be great if given the chance. I personally know some very talented young artists and writers (for instance, check out this poetry Substack), but their drawings and paintings and poems are not wanted at the mainstream shows and competitions. We are no longer a culture that values greatness. Even some conservatives are satisfied to have vitiated taste, but leftists actively glorify ugliness and idiocy.
Exhibit A: a poem written by transgender Western Oregon University professor Lauren Bouchard and published in a medical journal. They/them/their “poem,” so-called, is a mere mockery of literature, but mockeries are what is wanted at major publications now.
After all, the more ignorant and silly people are, the easier it is to control them. That is why aristocratic societies of the past used to restrict education to a select few, why American slaves were often not allowed to learn to read, and why our public education has been transformed into nothing but propaganda brainwashing. The elites want drones, not original thinkers.
Chicago was stripped of the largest dome in the United States (larger than the US Capitol), and a true wonder of the Beaux-Arts age. pic.twitter.com/m2XkCX0n1B
— Culture Critic (@Culture_Crit) January 29, 2025
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Below are selections from the “poem” about Bouchard’s transgender surgery as Campus Reform shared:
My hysterectomy was the jackpot after years playing fruity fertility slots again and again and again eight years until three crimson cherries let me begin the real conversation.
Before then, birth control, P-M-mess, lose some weight, assumed regrets, imaginary husband, hypothetical baby, nothing we can do, you’re a little bit crazy.
That seems a significant understatement. Bouchard not only has an imaginary husband but also imaginary talent. The stupidity is beyond satire.
We showed our care to They Them Theirs and it wasn’t even June yet We was pros at nouns, and our notes were EPIC It could have been the Oxy, but I laughed at the syntax because I was just a body of water without a pool of blood Leave a MyChart message-they aren’t here right now to correct, educate, or advocate They was elated their body elucidated Tomorrow, the body of work would start again.
Here lies American literature, may it rest in peace.
