Picking up Lance’s post about cartoons and running away with it:

I wish cartoons were real, so I could drop anvils on people’s heads and they wouldn’t die – they’d just get flat-topped heads and stars would fly around. Because I don’t actually want to kill anyone, but there are a lot of people I’d drop anvils on.

Other reasons I wish cartoons were real:

• You could unzip your skin and climb out of it whenever the urge took you. Admittedly, it works better when you’re a furry 6-foot cat, but you get the idea
• ACME everything
• Conjuring up tunnels out of thin air.
• There ain’t nothing quite like a Flintstonemobile
• Alvin, Simon, Theodore
• Doo, doo. Doo doo doo doo. C-H-I-P-M-U-N-K. (if you understand this, you’re either as young or as childish as I am)
• Johnny Bravo – swooon!
• Wacky races: duh!
• You could always solve anything by ripping away the spooky old guy’s face, to reveal him to be the dastardly evil twin of noble Bob, who can then admit that he ‘would have gotten away with it if it wasn’t for you meddling kids!’

Sometimes there are that happen in your day that aren’t especially out of the ordinary but they just make you stop and think. I was heading out after work, battling the crushes and heaving masses of people that you get every day on the tube. I’m about to get off at King’s Cross and fight the fray, when I feel something sharp dig into the small of my back. Being fraught and pretty much fed up to the back teeth of having sweaty leches being pressed right up against me in a stuffy carriage, I’m about to turn round and sharply ask this person to watch what the hell they’re doing. I turn on my heels and see that actually it’s a guiding stick, and the guy who was about to feel the fury of my pissed-off tongue is blind. I instantly feel bad. I’ve not done anything, but I was about to. So I manage to move off the train and onto the platform, and the blind man is right behind. The rush of people trying to get on the train is overwhelming – I’m fortunate enough to have all my senses fully intact, and I’m finding it a struggle. The man stumbles and is thrown off course, towards the wrong direction. I move over to help, but someone gets there before me. And it turns out that we’re heading to the same platform, through what seems like a labyrinth of escalators and turnstiles. And at each stage, theres someone rushing to help this man as and when he needs a guiding arm. There are so many arseholes on the tube (I’m including myself in this) that it was just notable that there were people willing to take a second from rushing hither and thither to help someone else. It’s not much, and you’d have thought it was basic human kindness, but it’s always nice when a jaded mind can be touched…

I’ve been neglecting kitschbitch. But my excuse is that I’ve been writing a new article for The Breast Chronicles called Fried Eggs. Read and enjoy!

…But Is It Art? This Wired article highlights the dispute over the relevancy of online art, as the three.org collective splits, amidst major misgivings on the part of Janet Cohen:

“To put it bluntly, Keith and Jon are very interested in online art and think it is terribly relevant. I’m not interested … nor do I think it’s relevant, particularly if one looks at it in the broad context of art.”

Now, I don’t profess to be an art critic; art being by its very nature subjective. But I’d like to promote the online cause. Look at soulflare and tell me that isn’t digital artistic expression. Or turbulence: offering new and individual explorations into online art culture. And let’s not forget about the 5k awards, showcasing some of the most original, and most innovative, content from anyone who wanted to have a go. Why shouldn’t the Museum of Web Art be considered on the same level as its more traditional counterparts – people from all over the world can come to its doors to see what is has to offer?