So curl up within your blankets, put your cheek against the computer screen expertly installed within the middle of your mattress and enjoy...
IDEALS GROW RUSTY ANGER
"You've sold out for free, man. Can you believe that ? You not only sold out but you also have the added insult and injury of leaving without a penny in your fucking pocket !" he screams through a balaclava. He makes his point by pistol whipping the man tied up with a rubber hose.
The two other hooded thugs stand silently behind him. Every so often one of them - I'm not sure which one really - checks his breath with a cupped hand. The other one - who I know for a fact is the other one - stands with his feet firmly planted on the ground. Obviously he is confident in his ability to stand and look tough.
"You went and made yourself into some big shot. Happy cards sent out for free to CEO's and their corporate lackeys and all you wanted was fame. Oh there's the guy who was brilliant !! He sent out works of art directly to the top. Oh he made it big by knowing whose ass to suck !!"
Beneath the balaclavas they are Marxist art critics who want something more out of their art.
They are angry.
Well one of them - I'm not sure which one - keeps glancing at one of the cards of a man, his daughter and their dog, only their heads are all switched in this picture. He quietly chuckles at how cute it looks.