Archive | July 2018

Even dung beetles eventually realise that there will be plenty of dung where they finish rolling their dung……

The goldfields in the 1850’s were a magnet for everyone in the world who thought they were lucky. People on the goldfields preferred to put their lives in the hands of luck rather than in a plan they thought they could carry out. These people would tell you they’re lucky but really, they didn’t back their ability to succeed fairly.
The biggest problem on the goldfields was that everyone else on the goldfields thought they were lucky too, and like praying for sports results, they can’t all be rewarded. At the heart of every gambler is a question to god “will I be punished for who I am or will I be rewarded for who I am?” So, the miner’s were looking for more than gold. Because there were thousands of sperm against you and only your sperm fertilised the egg, people are born with an unconscious belief in their specialness – their luck. In the middle of the picture there is a racecourse and gamblers bet on a race between babies (pink sperm) rolling big balls of unfertilised (white) sperm along a track all broken up by the constant digging of the earth.
At night, the earth of the womanless goldfields is saturated by the miners unfertilised sperm and at night the miners are terrorised by their dreams of white – unfertilised sperm re-evaporating from the dug-up earth and chasing the miners back into their luckless tunnels. Above the race track a mind reader (the most popular entertainment on the gold fields) performs. The idea that someone can read their minds was proof to the goldminers of their specialness and confirmed an infantile megalomania that convinces gamblers that their luck is greater than anyone else’s.
Above this scene happy fat sheep are being taken care of not by a Sheppard but by a butcher, they’re unable to notice the knives that hang above them.
Prostitutes had a dual role on the goldfields. They were the creators of un-special white sperm, a constant affirmation of the miner’s special pink – fertilised – sperm status. Prostitutes also contribute to the atmosphere of latent rebellion amongst the miners on the goldfields. Goldminers pursue financial success against logic and social class and without intelligence and morality, while prostitutes reward men with sex who are without logic, social class, intelligence and morality.. Winning gamblers corrupt the financial system – prostitutes the social system.
The rebellion against common sense extends into the distance where the miners are tearing down the racecourse grand stand to use the wood to make the racecourse longer. then taking the wood from the only hospital to make a new casino.
The casino is being built on stilts in the river which is steadier foundation than the ground which has been dug up and re-dug up by the miners who keep rolling their dug up dirt into bigger and bigger balls of earth. They are too scare to look into their balls of earth they are forever accumulating for fear of finding no gold in their work, no gold in their mine, no gold in their mother’s womb.




The Moomba parade celebrates Australian communities and culture. Floats (decorated utes and backyard trailers )drive down the main street of Melbourne and celebrate significant historical events like the landing of the first fleet and the driving down the main street of Melbourne by previous year’s floats.

In the end of the Moomba parade there is a float celebrating the children overboard of 2001 followed by the fake pamphlet scam of the 2007 federal election and the death of Azaria Chamberlian in 1980. The tall giraffe floats  celebrate our fear of African gangs.

Representatives of ethnic communities grab at our power lines to fill up their toasters and tvs with our natural resources. The whole parade is followed at the back by aboriginal wheelchair ballerinas to celebrate our ability to celebrate their achievments in sport and cultures in order to ignore their more expensive problems.

By the time they opened the first Museum of Rap in Fatehpur Sikri no-one could taste, smell, feel, hear or remember it anyway

Cameron Hayes
By the Time They Opened the First Museum of Rap in Fatehpur Sikri No-One Could Taste, Smell, Feel, Hear or Remember It Anyway, 2006
oil on linen
66 x 100 inches
Photo: Hermann Feldhaus
Courtesy Ronald Feldman Fine Arts, New York

By the time they opened the first Museum of Rap in Fatehpur Sikri no-one could taste, smell, feel, hear or remember it anyway

Fatehpur Sikri was a city built by a Mogul king to be a perfect city; but it was on high ground and not near any lakes or rivers, so no-one ever lived there because there was no water. In 2004, the National Bank of India opened the first Museum of Rap there.

All the stars from television, film, and music were expected to arrive in cabs and step out of a painting or a limousine onto a red-carpet conveyor belt. The stars then had fifteen minutes to line up behind and then have their photos taken in a wooden picture of Beyonce Knowles, Justin Timberlake, Tupac, or the cat from Friends. Many stubborn stars refused to take their heads out of their image and stumbled around until they accidentally hanged themselves in the wood.

Outside the Museum of Rap, many entertainers have come to cash in on all the hype. Ten-year-old girls have brought their dancing bears dressed as Madonna, Brittany, and Run DMC. A dance school has opened next door for girls to train their bears using only bells, knives, and scissors. Another entertainer painted many different species of animals with black and yellow stripes, and people pay to see them raped by a real tiger.

Not-so-famous rap stars have brought their own spotlights, and have tied capes to small animals, and are dropping them from scaffolds.

Because the way everyone and everything looked was all important, people lost their sense of smell and needed dogs to smell if food had expired, and homeless people carried bees in glass jars to check if their bodies were decaying badly enough to worry about.

As people’s sight strengthened they lost more and more memory, so musicians were able to do cover versions of hits while they were still on the charts. And many sitcoms were able to use the scripts from other sitcoms the day before.

The empty water pipes of Fatehpur Sikri were used to circulate the same three or four scripts through all the TV studios and hopes of the people.

Orphanages make the best skyscrapers

Cameron Hayes
Orphanages Make the Best Skyscrapers, 2011
Oil on linen
78 x 100 inches
Photo: Bill Orcutt
Courtesy Ronald Feldman Fine Arts, New York

Orphanages make the best skyscrapers, 2011

Orphans make up the best corporations because so many of the people who work in them, especially investment bankers, lawyers, and management consultants, need to win the approval of older men in suits. The more neglected a child is, especially as a boy by his father, the harder he will work as an adult for the corporation.
The rise of conservatism in the working population is a direct result of the increase of absent and negligent fathers.
The Human Resource departments of big companies see a generation of needy workers unconsciously drawn to being patted on the head by rich old white men in suits. HR departments know these people will take work home, work for unpaid overtime, eat lunch at their desk, and adopt the goals and values of the corporation as their own.
Without fathers, these workers still live in the wish fulfilled fantasy world which they and their mothers created. They expect everyone else to know intuitively what they want and how they feel. They believe in blowing out candles, gambling, and throwing money in wishing wells. They pray in front of gym equipment as orphans pray in front of phones that don’t ring for them, empty letterboxes, and taxis that never return their fathers.

In these skyscrapers the elevators only go up. Not to strive to the top through work is to freefall to the bottom. Many workers carry their chalk drawings in their brief cases, and many psychiatrists are sent straight to the top of the skyscrapers to wait for the most successful workers.