Tag: the media

McCoy’s Artistic Chaos

 

Les felt exhilarated and full of self righteousness as he drove as fast as humanly possible towards the freeway. Adrenaline was flowing through his veins like water through a flood gate making his skill feel electrified. His senses were all on high alert. As Less banked a right turn onto the freeway the car to fish tailed slightly. His blue tooth began to ring. Goddamnit Les thought to himself, for he knew it was one of two people. It was either his manager Mortimer, or the goddamn cops, but he’d done a good job at avoiding the police. It’s the goddamn media you can’t out run those vultures constantly circling waiting for tragedy and death to strike. Begrudgingly Les switched his blue tooth on as he felt his undying rage he possessed flare up all over again.
“What do you want?!,” demanded Les angrily.
“Les it’s Mortimer, your agent”
“I know who the hell you are Mort, I sign your goddamn paychecks. Not to mention I pay you to be my MANAGER NOT MY MOTHER. I already have one of those, and I haven’t talked to her in eight years AND COUNTING!” yelled Les at the top of his lungs now enraged that Mortimer has called him in the first place.
“Les your on the news again, thats 5 times this month alone,” Mortimer said in a slow authoritative tone like a teacher or librarian.
“FREE PRESS MORTIMER FREE GODDAMN PRESS!” screamed Les as Les’s driving began to become as erratic as his behavior. Les was preoccupied at that moment punching his steering wheel. This was not at all satisfying Les’s explosive anger. The steering wheel was thin and circular so Les’s fists of fury mostly missed it only fueling Les’s animosity.
“Yes, Les free press is good” replied Mortimer condescendingly as he lost patience for Les’s outrageously unpredictable, temper driven, theatrics.
“Les you’ve really outdone yourself this time. I mean, a hit and run Les? seriously why? Why Les do you feel compelled to create not only fine art but unyielding chaos all around you?”
“DON’T be condescending to me you pion!” Les growled, as emotion started to replace logical thought. “That scum of the Earth deserved what he got, and what he got was hit by a car. I WAS DRIVING! SO WHAT?”
“Les for Christ’s sake you tried to drown a critic in the punch bowl. Then you beat another critic of yours with a lawn jockey. NOW you top it all off with a hit and run. Please do tell why, and how this monstrosity came to be.”demanded Mortimer as he took a long draw from a bottle of Pepto Bismol which he kept in a desk drawer for when dealing specifically with Les.
“I was at my opening Deviants of Art, and Phil Edwards from the New Yorker was there. I over heard Phil telling other patrons that my art is over rated and that this was due to my lack of classical training or some shit.”explained Less occasionally stalling as his mind came up with the words faster than Les’s mouth could say them. “This pompous twit had the gaul to dare criticize my work, my work is goddamn invaluable to the art world. My point, is this Mortimer, art is SUBJECTIVE. If art is SUBJECTIVE, why then do I need CRITICS to comment, judge and condemn, my splendid works? Well, I saw that piece of filth Phil walking to his car, and I jumped into a car the valet had just brought around. I crept up behind him, lined up the front right corner of the car with the back of his leg, pounded the pedal to the metal and clipped him with the car. I wasn’t trying to kill the son of a bitch, though being dead would be his greatest accomplishment. I just clipped him to scare the shit out of him, and send him flying through the air. I figured he’d then land and roll across the asphalt. I cannot turn off the fires of my creative passions just because I’m not painting in my studio, it’s not my fault that my artist passion doesn’t translate in real life.”
“You have a good point Les BUT the way you make it leaves a lot to be desired AND NOW you tell me in spite of the already bad situation that you ALSO STOLE A CAR.,” quipped Mortimer like a peeved off parent. “Well, Les what are we going to do about this? You’ve gone to far. I already called in Art Management’s legal team.”
“Fire them for all I care I detest lawyers they’re the art critics of the legal world. Your right Mortimer I’m done with this shit, the art, the openings, the critics. I’ve decided it is time to retire.” Les said sounding rather insane.
“Retire! I don’t care. I’d live longer if you did,” responded Mortimer “But your in real trouble Les. Assault is one thing. Grand theft auto and attempted vehicular homicide is a totally different animal all together.”
“I DON’T CARE Mortimer I’m headed for the Florida Keys. The police can just TRY and locate me in a chain of 1,400 islands. I’m not a moron I’m not going to the obvious spots like KeyWest or KeyLargo or whatever. I’m going to buy one of the little unknown islands to retire to” ranted Les with growing intensity.
“Well, then it was a pleasure, of sorts anyway, working for you and while you are an artist you need to learn to control your artists passions outside of your studio.” Mortimer said in honesty
“Thanks Mortimer for putting up with all my shit and bailing me out countless times,” said Les ambivalently “It’s five o’clock somewhere and thats where you’ll find me.”

T.R. McCoy The Man, The Myth, The Monster

The following newspaper article was published in the Podunk County Chronicle on December 9th 1913 on the 25th anniversary of T.R. McCoy’s disappearance.

T.R.McCoy was one of the most controversial figures in American history that you’ve never heard of. T.R. McCoy was an anthropologists, successful sociologist, and the pioneering founder of the scientific field of cryptozoology, who one cold winter night after leaving a fundraiser for his next expedition (to the tropical islands in the Arctic Circle) heavily drunk and aggravated, vanished leaving only his left black leather glove upon the stair of the Naturalist Park on December 9th, 1888.

During his prolific and troubled carrier T.R.McCoy won several Nobel prizes for pioneering the field of cryptozoology in 1818, and for advancements in the field of sociology (in 1817, 1821 and 1833)

T.R.McCoy also had a plethora of criminal court cases for example the multiple charges of exploitation and detriment to the indigenous tribes people he studied. Once T.R.McCoy disappeared from the face of the earth; the flood gates for conspiracy theorists were opened. People formulated theories such as: The Vatican had him assassinated. Could it have been, that one of his 17 ex-wives/mistresses killed him in a crime of passion unable to tolerate his penchant for womanizing? Was it that T.R.McCoy faked his own death to escape from public controversy and legal prosecution? Did McCoy run off to one of his exotic locations and was eaten by vengeful cannibals whose ancestors McCoy swindled into becoming cheap slave labor.  Others hypothesized McCoy fell victim to a revenge bent supernatural specter from beyond the grave seeking retribution. Some said it was an alien abduction, but at the same time others wondered if McCoy himself was in fact an alien or perhaps a human-alien hybrid. Some in the general community believe McCoy, through his advanced knowledge of physics and the time space continuum, opened a portal to escape the chaos of his career and the turmoils of his personal life by entering another unknown dimension. Some other people think McCoy was employed by a government agency working on top secret project (McCoy was working with the military but the all the files are still to this day remain classified) and simply knew to much so he was effectively “Taken Out”
The more likely reality is that a fellow competitor (and there were plenty) murdered him out of jealously or retribution for McCoy destroying their careers, as he was known to do if for any reason big or small if he disliked you. More probable causes for McCoy’s disappearance also include being killed by a nefarious person from the criminal underworld due to an outstanding gambling debt. McCoy was a notorious gambler who would bet on anything just to make a wager. McCoy could have just as easily dropped his glove as he staggered down the park stairs intoxicated (as his penchant for drink was legendary), stumbled off into the park, and accidentally fell into the Elli river that runs through the park.
No body was ever found even after an extensive 93 day search. In the end we can only speculate and must be ready to acknowledge the fact that the world may never know what really happened to T.R.McCoy the man, the myth, the monster.