I logged onto Reddit and prepared for my evening of, what the millennials will call, blowing minds. It’s true, think about it with your perfectly intact brain, how often do people get to ask questions to a person who essentially pinches the nipples of society.

Yes, I make a living as a controversial artist and as a sport equipment store clerk. The art itself doesn’t pay for anything. It’s ahead of its time so there really isn’t a market for the type of art I do yet, but believe me, like all the great impressions of history, mine will shortly follow whatever meme is most popular at this moment.

Mine will follow Meme.

That should be the title to my memoir. Mine Will Follow Meme The Memoir. That’s a lot of M’s, I like that. If only my name is Melvin McMurtry, right? Mine Will Follow Meme The Memoir By Melvin McMurty.

Holy shit!

That’s a sick title and authorship. Imagine people saying that out loud. That’s art. Making people say weird rhythmic words is a beautiful art form that isn’t often demonstrated in the contemporary art scene.

I’m too many steps ahead looking back, that’s what I feel like all the time.

But imagine someone at a the library asking, “Hi librarian, do you happen to have a copy of Mine Will Follow Meme the Memoir By Melvin McMurty?” OMG, what a weird thing to say.

That came from my brain and I made someone else say it. Art. Anyways, that’s going to be a piece I’ll work on for the future. Make a mental note: reminder, start working on my memoir.

The rumours are true, this is my first AMA.

If you haven’t heard the scoop, AMA stands for Ask Me Anything. It’s an Internet slang for an interview with people who have questions (no such thing as dumb questions?) for revered people like me.

I heard it can get pretty controversial, which is what I’m all about as an artist. I want to push the limit. My hope tonight, as I sit in front of my computer in my black attire and trench coat, is that I would get in such a heated argument with someone from the Internet that I will be banned from Reddit.

I will really know I pushed the limits then. When you get banned from a social media platform, you know you are hardcore. That’s like getting expelled from school, or the mall, or wherever people get sucker punched with ideas. Consumerism, Ah! Economic Stability, Ah! What is more right? Racism or sexism?

I can’t come at it as though I want to argue though. You don’t blow minds by shouting your opinions. You blow minds by flipping someone’s life completely upside down. You allow that person to offer their opinion, and almost bait and switch a conversation on you, but you are smarter than that.

“Hey,” they’ll say, throwing me a softball, “What do you think of global warming?” And I’ll respond, “Oh, I hope global warming happens, I’m trying to cause global warming every day. I use paper towels, I throw plastic bags in the organics bin — I litter!” I hit them with the last thought like a finishing right hook. “I’m all for global warming,” I continue, “in fact, global warming is the only way I want to die. It’s my dream death. My ideal death.” Bam! Controversy.

What a statement I just made, on the fackin’ Internet no less.

Everybody is going to read that. It’s there — forever! People are going to know that I backing global warming.

I didn’t whisper it into someone’s ear like a pussy, I wrote it on the Internet. That’s rebellious. That’s against the grain for sure.

From there, who knows, maybe the guy will think hmmm… maybe the artist is right, maybe global warming is the best option.

Shiiitt! I just started a revolution. A small band of brothers with a very fixed notion that the end of world via global warming is the best scenario. Then the history books are going to trace back the origin of this valiant group and discover, the historians do, that it was I who gave birth. That’s what good art can do, it infects someone’s neural systems and devour the subject from the inside out, like one of those fungus take kills insects from the inside.

Here’s a picture of what I’m talking about:

That’s my ideas eating your body!

Yes, I could have gotten a driver’s license, but instead I got an artistic license (see what I did there?) and I must say, I am far happier to have this.

I mean, they aren’t mutually exclusive, I can totally go get my driver’s license anytime. I’m a grown man. In fact, it’s kind of a hindrance on my life for not having one.

Then again, I worry about what a car would do to me and my social life. I won’t get to speak with the people on the bus anymore. People, believe it or not, love it when I spark a conversation with them on the bus.

I mean, it’s natural that I lead them towards a topic where I can return with a hard-hitting controversial respond. Debating with people on the bus is good exercise. It also flexes my imagination, which is what I need to create art. You might even say that strangers on the buses are my muse. Every artist needs a muse and mine are drunk teenagers and drunk homeless people and sober crazies commuting to and from work.

I guess you can say that the bus is like the Internet, except the Internet has a much bigger audience. It’s crazy how technology has come so far. From buses to Internet, what a time to be alive.

You can argue that this is the best time to be alive. But I disagree, because I think it’ll be better to live in the future when my art is appreciated, like how dead artists’ works are worth so much more after they die.

Yep, after I die from global warming, the world will recognize my greatness. It’s a shame I won’t be around to enjoy it. It’s a controversial way of living, like a Jesus, you know? I’m sacrificing myself like a Jesus or a Martin Luther King. Those guys were controversial AF, standing up for their rights. I’m sort of following in their footstep. Just imagine me, “I have a dream death: Global warming!” Yeah, that’ll rattle some feathers, for sure!

 

What you’ve just read is the second post in a series entitled “A Fan Fiction of My Life by My Number One Fan, Me.” Please check out the first one, called Me, A Doctor, if you haven’t already. It’s simply divine. 

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