I don’t know much about art, but. …

Spring has sprung, the grass has riz; I wonder where the flowers is.
Spring has sprung, the grass has riz; I wonder where the flowers is.

Well, look what the snow drug in.

That nice little dumper did wonders for what passes for a lawn here at Chez Dog (it’s kind of green, and it’s on the ground, so we call it a lawn). And there’s more precip’ in the forecast, so ’ray for April so far.

Elsewhere, something less appealing is crawling out from under its covering. It seems Alfred E. “Worry” Bush has turned his limited skill set to painting since leaving office, and an exhibition of his portraits has opened in Dallas.

You may be familiar with his previous works, “Afghanistan” and “Iraq,” bits of performance art that required gallons upon gallons of blood and bullshit. We can’t afford them, and don’t want or need them — they don’t even match the sofa, f’fucksake! — but we’re paying for them anyway.

Based on what we’ve seen of those, I’m surprised ol’ Alfred’s portraits could find an exhibition space loftier than a refrigerator door in a prison cafeteria. They certainly make a compelling argument for hanging more artists and fewer paintings.

 

 

Ten-HUT!

Sgt. Rock
Sgt. Rock didn’t spend his tour of duty protecting Texas roadhouses from the Viet Cong.

I see the Alfred E. “Worry” Bush Presidential Library is to be dedicated today. How nice to see Numbnuts finally has a place to store his comic books.

They’re mostly dogeared copies of “Sgt. Rock” and “Sgt. Fury and His Howling Commandos,” but there are a few “Wonder Woman” numbers in there, too.

You want to steer clear of those. They’re all sticky.