“The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off our souls.”
– Some guy named Picasso

You peasants won’t understand art. I’m not an artist but I once drank champagne in a bath tub so I have class. You see, my most recent acquisition is a Note 5. It’s a great smartphone, Samsung. I don’t even need friends or family anymore. The precision of the stylus combined with my own inner turmoil unleashed a fury of mediocre creative productions.

Whenever inspiration hit me, instead of any other worthwhile feeling, I would pop out the stylus and open up SNote. When I felt sad, I drew. When I was hungry, I drew. When I lost my tweezer, I cried then I drew.

What follows are a few of my masterpieces. Brace yourself. You may not be accustomed to beholding such vision and insight. Before proceeding, please open your mind, and drop your standard for what a masterpiece should be.

This is pretty cute:


This has something to do with the high price of fuel, I’m sure:


Nature is a downer:


This is a funny joke. Laugh:


Love is a magical thing:




Beautiful things are meant to take your breath away:


This is something:


Accurate schematic of female physiology based on my own experience:


Most advice is ironically unhelpful:


Put this up on your wall:


(Mind blown)

Take a second to catch your breath.

If you’re aroused, don’t be ashamed – we all are.

All of these are available as autographed hardcopies for R5000 excluding VAT and delivery.


This is one I call “Cellmate”:

A product of my conversion to male feminism:

Get ice cream in all the flavors you’re used to:


Make sentence here

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