Large Painting: Jason Kenney, Lubed up Cherub of Austerity
This is a painting of Jason Kenney in the form he takes during his nightly rounds to the homes of us severely normal Albertans.
That he manages to stay aloft on those obviously ineffective yellow stained wings is a clear oversight of the natural world. The tutu is gallingly adorable, like mismanufactured doll factory castaways or the hideous dogs that are so inbred they can’t naturally breed. His gnarly blanched snow pea fingers clutch the base and shaft of a disconnected petroleum noozle, and he’s wearing one of the weird hats the flying monkeys have in The Wizard of Oz. Kenney is very interested in what the flying monkeys in the Wizard of Oz represent, specifically, the political concept of “jabbering fealty”.
When he visits a home, he starts in the grainy bedroom shadows of the child’s room so he may consume their dreams, aspirations, and future. It is a custom amongst Albertan children to leave a coin under their pillow before a visit from Premier Kenney. Imagine their squealing surprise and abject horror in the morning when they discover he has taken that coin and given it to an oil company. Also, he has pissed on the carpet and eaten their pet snake like a chicken wing.
After he grifts the chill'ns, he bumps his way out of the room in search of more lives to ruin with a directionless airborne malice.
Not only has Kenney attacked the pleasure of visiting provincial parks, affording insurance, having a job, or living, he will also float into your room and infect your psychosexual id such that the primal joy of f*cking will no longer be unavailable. (I am speaking from personal experience. I haven’t gotten a boner since Kenney paid that muffin faced carbuncle Jeff Callaway to kamikaze Brian Jean’s campaign so he could steal the leadership of Alberta’s nazi party). And if you’re lucky enough to have a job with a pension, he will suck it right out of your asshole while you sleep and momma bird it into the trembling mouths of an insolvent nest of energy sector executives.
Once he has wantonly sewn discord like a Johnny Appleseed of bad times, Kenney does not leave. No, that would be too easy. He sits on your couch clutching an 8x10 glossy headshot of Justin Trudeau and rage weeps in sputtering fits. It would be pathetic, even pity-inducing, if he wasn’t such a pile of garbage. Oh well, I guess that’s his lot in life.
I was hoping this painting would help ward off my unwelcome visitor, conservatives are a territorial bunch. But alas it has had the opposite effect and they’ve gone and opened a War Room in my living room. Now it’s filled with a bunch of overpaid goons that just sit around all day watching the milkshake scene from There Will Be Blood and giving each other handjobs. Jeeeeest givin’r.
I am at my wits end. Scared, bonerless. Please take this thing away from me.