Art, Dead Cats, and...I Just Threw Up In My Mouth

Look, art is about perspective. Art is about allowing someone to see the world in a different way. It should open your eyes and make you wonder. I get all that. What I'm having trouble understanding is why THIS:

...is art! Are you KIDDING ME?!?!?

You can read the whole story here, if you don't mind being disturbed and a little creeped out. I'll sum it up for you in case you're eating your breakfast cereal right now.

This piece of "art" was created by a Dutch "artist" by the name of Bart Jansen. Bart lost his cat. It got hit by a car. That's sad. That's very sad.

 I've owned a cat. Hell, even though I try to deny it I STILL own a cat. Beau is bad-ass. He hunts rabbits and snakes and hobos. He's tough. If I liked cats more I would love this all-black little war machine. I don't like cats, so my love for him will have to remain a smoldering admiration that lasts until I step in his hairball vomit or get ready to lay my head down on the eviscerated remains of a sparrow.

Bart, who calls himself an "artist", really loved his cat. He named him Orville. Maybe Orville hunted rabbits and snakes and hobos. Maybe he didn't. All that matters is that little Orville is hunting in Valhalla now. This is sad. Losing a beloved pet is no joking matter. It sucks to lose a pet. Especially one you've had for a long time. My heart goes out to Bart.

At least, it did.

Then, after a period of mourning, Bart decides that he should take his beloved cat, Orville, hook him up to some electronics, add some propellers and make a god-damned helicopter out of him. And he flies! It's a remote controlled helicopter! Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz! Whoomp Whoomp Whoomp Whoomp Whoomp Whoomp! Whatever helicopter sound you want. Insert it here. Close your eyes and hear it. Then, open your eyes and look into the face of a dead-ass cat.

You talkin' to me? You talkin' to me?

He should have just made Orville sing "Puttin' on the Ritz" or something. That would have been way less creepy. Instead, he flies this thing around like it was the least creepy thing in the world.

Is that offensive? Yes! I don't fly my dead grandmother around like she was Inspector Gadget. This isn't Pet Semetary.  Sometimes, dead's better. Put him in the ground. Put his ashes in a jar. Don't stuff him and put him on your mantle. Don't hang him on the wall over your bed like he was a prize stag you shot. And, for god's sake, don't attach rotors and wires and...holy shit, are those landing skids???

This isn't love. This is something you do to someone's cat that you hated! This is what you do when you arch nemesis has a beloved pet, and that pet dies, and you dig it up and turn it into a helicopter and fly it around in his front yard until he cracks up. And he will. He will crack up like Leonardo DiCaprio on Shutter Island.

Is it enough that this thing is flying around like a member of the Justice League? Nope. We're also going to call it "art."

This thing was unveiled at the Kunstrai Art Festival in Amsterdam, home of the world's greatest red light district. I'm sorry...I meant to say Kunstrai "Art" Festival.

Red light district or dead cat? Red light district or dead cat?

This:

Hey, big spender!

or this:

You should make up your own mind. That is what art is about, right? It's subjective. I guess. But let me warn you, if you think that a dead cat hovering around like a twisted version of the S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier is art, then don't be surprised if one day you stop at a traffic light, look to your right, and see a guy hovering three feet off the ground on his dead grandmother's back. Hey, at least he's wearing his seatbelt.

Geraud