Artist’s Statement

At some point in time, future, past or present, there were two prisoners held captive by monotony and pain. The gods had sentenced each to his own kind of horror.

One of them, Sisyphus by name, had to roll a boulder ten times his weight up a mountain every day and night for the rest of eternity. Sometimes he would get the boulder just below the summit but even then, no matter how close, the boulder’s weight would take its toll and roll back over Sisyphus causing him, and the boulder, to tumble back down to the bottom. And there would be Sisyphus, on his back, staring up at that fucking mountain, sure that it was personally trying to fuck him.

One day, however, nonsense took over. You see, regardless of math, religion, deities, paranoia or extreme self medication, there is always something to derail idioms and send life into all sorts of stupefied enigmatic directions. Like what Sisyphus saw that one day, a day that was seemingly like all the rest. Sisyphus was on his back after another failed attempt at rolling that boulder when he turned his head and caught a glimpse of something wonderful, something he had never seen before. He got up, brushed himself off and staggered over to a small sphere decorated in black and white shapes. (it was a soccer or football, depending on your personal beliefs). Sisyphus took the ball and began to investigate.

Meanwhile, the second prisoner, Tantalus,(subject to his own sick shit, schemed up by very fucked up jailors), stood in a pool of fresh water surrounded by a beautiful oasis which was surrounded by a never ending desert. The sadistic punishment that came into play here was that whenever Tantalus bowed down to take a drink the water level in the pool would drop never letting even a single hand full for Tantalus to quench his eternal thirst.

So, Sisyphus, at this point, had learned everything there was to know about the strange bouncy ball he had found at the foot of the mountain. He made an odd decision, one that would make the gods pay notice and realize they were being (in an abstract way) told to fuck off.

Sisyphus kicked that ball like a pro all the way up to the summit, he raised his right hand toward the sky cursing triumphantly and folded three fingers and his thumb gesturing to his captures the universal symbol ; fuck off, fuck you and fuck off you fuckers. With one blast of emotion Sisyphus placed the ball on the ground and with one dynamite kick sent the ball hurling though the sky seemingly guided by the curvature of the earth.

Gradually the ball began to descend, far far away from the mountain and into a never ending desert, to an oasis, with a pool in the center where a man was bowed in another ill-fated attempt to quench his thirst. Suddenly, an object came beamingĀ  out of the sky with black and white markings and the speed of a commit hitting Tantalus in the back of his head sending him face first into the pool so abruptly that the water had no time to recede, cooling Tantalus’ sun parched face and shoulders, and finally allowing him to quench his thirst. As he was floating around the pool, in the oasis, in the never ending desert, only one thing ran through his mind; What the fuck was that, I’ve got a motherfucker of a fucking sore head.

written by judson michael agla

edited and tolerated by joel eves

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