Archive | Skwibby fiction

Congo: a chimp, an artist, a cautionary tale

congo the chimp poses with one of his paintings

From the archives: August 9, 2005

The little-known abstract expressionist, Congo the chimp, has art going up for sale at Bonhams, an auction house in England. Three of Congo’s paintings are being sold alongside such masters as Renoir and Andy Warhol. (Not that Congo isn’t a master in his own right.)

Congo the chimpCongo began his artistic career when he worked with Desmond Morris, anthropologist, TV presenter and writer of such books as The Human Animal, The Naked Ape, and Chimps-r-Us. Initially, Morris gave Congo the paints just to mess with the poor ape’s head, but after a couple of years, Congo got the hang of it, and he found a dealer in NY.

What happened to poor Congo thereafter is a cautionary tale for all artists.

The dealer knew Picasso, and the famous swordsman was enthralled with Congo’s “primitive” aesthetic. News of Picasso’s approval spread, and soon Congo found himself in a group show at MOMA, alongside the likes of Andy Warhol. (So it is fitting that his work is auctioning along with Warhol’s now.)

The NY arts scene in the late 50s was wild, and a little bit more than the young Congo could handle. (He was only six when he arrived.) At a party, an impish Truman Capote introduced the impressionable chimp to the banana daiquiri, and from there it was all downhill.

PicassoAfter a few lukewarm reviews from the MOMA show, Congo felt he should be more experimental, and changed artistic medium : he started working exclusively with canvas and his own fecal matter. This aromatic work was received rather coldly from critical circles, and even his patron, Picasso, withdrew support. (Thought it must be noted, this was after a wag commented on how similar the famous artist looked to congo.)

As his fortunes changed, Congo could neither afford his loft in Soho, nor even continue to support his daiquiri habit. Instead, he found solace in a slow degradation of fruity beverages: slivovice, ripple, and finally, Aqua Velva laced with vanilla extract.

Eventually, his health began to suffer, and Congo died of TB.

Putting an upbeat coda on this sad story, a spokesperson from the auction house Bonhams said:

Paintings by apes may be seen as humorous or as a derisive commentary on modern art. However, Morris’s studies were a serious attempt to understand chimpanzees’ ability to create order and symmetry as well as to explore, at a more primeval level, the impetus behind our own desires for artistic creativity.

Update:

Congo’s work sold for more than $26,000, while works by Renoir and Warhol remained unsold.

>Chimps work sells big | Chimp Rehab Fund. You will find other monkeying around at alltop.

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Red Juggernaut, circa 1906

mad scientist with robotDoctor Hans Christian “Liver-and-Favva-Beans” Malifico standing next to the prototype of his first business mechanical, the famous Red Juggernaut, Mark I (with claw and hook attachment).

Though it would be several years before he founded Juggernaut Business Mechanicals (JBM), and at least another decade before the technology was available for his “chainsaw and boom stick attachments”, Dr. Malifico had already changed the world. The Mark I was perfectly capable of terrorizing the two dozen cheese-making Flems at the Annual Limburg Stench-Fest, thus giving the hated French — his client — the chance to win the Palm de Pong with their inferior, though admittedly eye-watering Roquefort.

In the 1960s, the Red Juggernaut (Mark XX) became JBM’s best-selling business mechanical. Though primarily used to terrorize non-compliant nation-states, evil overlords have found many other uses for the Red Juggernaut.

Modern business collections agencies have found it especially effective, and it is a standard piece of equipment in hostile takeover bids.

Put a bid in on some of my surprisingly robot-friendly long fiction!

Alltop also has world-takeover plans. Thanks to Foxtongue for finding this Belgariffic photo. Originally posted March 2009.

Dr. Tundra admits he has a problem

bloodshot eyes

Once again, Dr. Tundra woke with a splitting headache, the feeling that he’d fallen asleep with a mouthful of half-masticated rat, and a pain in his lower back that could only be called apocalyptic.

He opened his eyes; it felt as though a demented carpenter had been at his eyelids with coarse grit sandpaper all night.

The walls were swimming a bit, and he could just barely focus on the floor, where he could see the empty pizza boxes, Coke cans, and what … was that a pair of panties?

He sat up in bed, and realized that at the tender age of 37, perhaps it was time to admit he had a problem. This was worse than his days of pretending he was Carlos Castaneda — the peyote days. He’d fallen under the thrall of a new mistress, and not the nice kind decked out in leather and handling a whip either. No, he’d sunk into a new addiction. One that could ruin him — ruin his relationships, his work, his life.

At the far end of the bedroom was the TV, and sitting underneath, the device. And within it, the software that caused his cravings:

Fallout 4.

Put down the controller and mess up your eyes with some of my addictive long fiction!

It is wise to consider if you are an addictive personality before you load up any form of electronic crack on your gaming console or computer: Gaming fanatics show hallmarks of drug addiction. Thanks to maxf for the eye. Alltop also has a series of addictions. Originally published in 2008, when the punchline was Civilization IV.

The dream of flight

Fly away (from) home. by Kera Robson

It seemed impossible, but it was happening. Glen was flying!

The geese had flown higher and higher, above the clouds, so he could now take in the glorious early morning sunlight — Glen guessed about eight or nine-thousand feet. It was spectacular. He whooped and hollered with delight. The geese honked back at him. Glen thought he may have been projecting his own elation onto the geese, but it seemed like they were actually excited about their feat too. It was an achievement for both species!

But more than anything, Glen was filled with pure joy. He’d never felt more alive, at one with the immensity and power of the universe. He laughed aloud, over the sound of the the geese beating their powerful wings, louder than the rush of wind in his ears.

Then the 747 hit him.

Looking for your own escape? Read some of my high-flying long fiction!

Alltop misses in-flight meals. Fly away (from) home., a photo by Kera Robson on Flickr.