The Art of Anger Management
By Joe King

"When angry, count to four; when very angry, swear." 
-- Mark Twain

Drawing. 
Making indelible marks.
It is fundamentally basic to humanity. The earliest examples of our cave-dwelling ancestors continue to compel with their sequential storytelling of prehistoric encounters with primordial man-eaters, while Spielberg's 3-D simulated sequel only draws yawns.

Our oldest religions base their own faith on the validity of pen and brush strokes under the direction of Divine Inspiration. One chose to define Himself as The Logo.

Our own Republic proclaims it's holy endowment of "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness" with the simple scrawl of a quill pen -- "We the People" is a graphic image so archetypal, it defines the essence of democracy for an entire planet.

Even in the faddish world of entertainment, collectors in-the-know will admit that when all of the gaudy, vaunted, hand-painted animation cells of Disney and Hanna-Barbera have turned to dust like fools gold -- the true and only original work of the animators will still remain in the sketches they left behind. 

Why then, should such a benign and temporary past time as body painting, with soluble inks and dyes be so persecuted in this city that thinks so much of itself?
Even the peaceful practitioners of finger-painting have come under the thumb of our City Council. "Play with clay -- go to jail" seems to be the mindset of politicians who are showing their true color: green with envy.

There are two kinds of people in this scenario: those who create, or support creation -- and those who can't. Those that can't are jealous of those who do. They invest their entire life into either trying to control those who do or destroy their work in the process, somehow, in their minds, elevating themselves above the creators in the process -- vindicating their own lack of talent.

Legend has it that Satan himself was jealous of us, God's creation -- and thereby bent his will toward our destruction. Little has changed I think.

In a community whose true religion is vanity, i.e., cosmetic surgery, elective liposuction, fashion contact lenses and laser lasik surgery on credit... "Oh! I just have to have another pair of shoes BTW, these don't go with the color-change paint on my leased SUV" -- Henna art and face painting are pretty tame souvenirs in a day where permanent mutilation and infection are real enough complications from doctors sworn to "only heal."

Are the same officers who arrested the artists today on the Promenade patrolling the cosmetic aisles of Santa Monica Place?

Are they ticketing the idiots trying to apply their eyeliner while behind the wheel? 

In an atmosphere where the police routinely defend the fatal shooting of civilians claiming "he had a toothbrush" -- perhaps the pen IS mightier than the sword.
I'd like to make this protest by drawing a cartoon on my ass and faxing to City Hall, except I've already got something back there and they wouldn't understand the allusion.
That and my fax warranty doesn't cover that kind of stress-test. I guess they can have my crayons when they pry them from my cold, dead fingers.

Copyright 2002. Joe King. All Rights Reserved.