Art for Art’s Sake

Recently U.S. President Barack Obama met with new British Prime Minister Lord Snooty Pants David Cameron.  Here is a leaked transcript of their closed-door Oval Office meeting:


Prime Minister Cameron and President Obama sit opposite each other.  Cameron takes a sip from his mug, and promptly does a spit-take.

CAMERON.  Dear God and Margaret Thatcher, what is that?

OBAMA.  It’s coffee.

CAMERON.  Ah.  Right.  Well.  Smack me silly with the English Navy, but I was expecting tea.

OBAMA.  Here in America, we drink coffee.

CAMERON.  It tastes repulsive.  Like a dingleberry on a gray May day.

OBAMA.  You should be glad it’s not oil.

CAMERON.  Right…  well…  about that nasty and quarrelsome business, what do you say we put the whole thing behind us?  Like, um, the Revolution.

OBAMA.  Behind us?  The Gulf of Mexico is tarnished with oil, and not in a good way!  People are furious!

CAMERON.  Right, well, I say old chap…  no hard feelings.

OBAMA.  No hard feelings?  The head of B.P. is talking executive compensation!

CAMERON.  Hmm…  all right, don’t get your knickers in a twist–

OBAMA.  I’m not wearing knickers–

CAMERON.  Okay, your girlwurlitzers in a girded birdle–

OBAMA.  I don’t even know what that means!  Speak American, man!

CAMERON.  Right.  Well.  Hmm.  I got you this painting.

Cameron produces an Eine painting.

CAMERON.  It’s a Ben Eine, or, you know…  Ben Flynn!  Ha!

OBAMA.  My God man, I know Eine’s real name, thank you.  I dig the contemporary art scene.  Here, I got you this.

Obama produces a Ruscha print.

CAMERON.  Oh, that’s, well…  lovely.

OBAMA.  Dude, it’s Ed Ruscha.  Guy’s awesome.  It’s a column.  It’s got speed lines.

CAMERON.  Yes, well…  hmm…  I’m slightly disappointed, that’s all.

OBAMA.  Disappointed?  Disappointed?  Man, it’s worth over seven grand.  That’s like 181 shares of BP stock.

CAMERON.  Right, no, it’s brilliant, grand, it’s just…

OBAMA.  You don’t like it.

CAMERON.  It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s a bit…  daft.

OBAMA.  ‘Daft?’  ‘Daft?”

Obama smears the Ruscha lithograph with oil.

OBAMA.  How do you like it now?  How do you like it now, you limey Brit?  Why I ought’a…

Fisticuffs break out, as both paintings are torn, oil flies everywhere and the curtain comes down.

Or something like that.


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