Picasso was in one of his morose moods. He couldn’t decide whether to paint both eyes on the right or to paint an extra eye. Worse, he once knew a girl that looked a little like this. He thought he was losing his touch. This crap will never sell and that was the whole point. Picasso wasn’t in this for art’s sake.

“Why should I be a poor, starving artist living in a loft?”, he asked a friend when he was first starting out.

“Because that’s the way it’s done. After you die then your art is worth something”, the friend told him.

“Not to me. I’ll be dead.”

Picasso developed a new style of painting. He was responsible for Abstract. He got the idea after picking up his niece from kindergarten.

“Look, Uncle Pablo, I drewed a pishure”, she told him.

Cripes, the little moron can’t talk right and that drawing looks ..different.

“That’s nice. That’s a very pretty cow”, he told he to be polite.

“Isn’t a cow. It’s a pishure of you”.

Hmm, maybe he did look like that with a hangover. At his studio he drew a copy of it. Then he threw in some lines and circles. Then he drank some bourbon. Then he tried to draw more while he drank more. As the night went on his drawing became more and more silly as he became more and more drunk.

The next morning, or afternoon, he couldn’t figure that one out, he looked at his painting. Good Lord! It was terrible. He was ashamed of it. As luck would have it one of his art dealer friends stopped by at that very moment.

“Pablo! Bellimiso! You are a genius! Such color! Such imagination!”

“What’s with the bellimiso? You’re Spanish like me. You don’t speak Italian. You really like it?”

“Ya, I really do.”

“Want to buy it?”

“Yes, effendi, very much so. How did you get this idea.”

“I’m a genius. This is art for art’s sake. How much?”