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Painting of Semi-Nude Jason Kenney Clutching Barrel of Oil

This painting is a depiction of Jason Kenney’s fictional visit with investors to boost interest in Alberta’s world class oil and gas sector.

There was widespread confusion but little surprise when he tottered into the room dragging an empty barrel of oil behind him. He was visibly emaciated, creaking tendons under crepe paper skin run along boney fault lines with a distressing lack of meat or muscle. His yellowed forehead barely crested the average height of the Oil and Gas investors’ garish belt buckles. He smelled like rancid milk.

This one man parade of God’s limitless capacity for cruelty finally settled in the corner bathed in the pallid yellow light of the garlic shrimp heat lamps a few feet away. He wrapped his arms the barrel and immediately began whispering sweet nothings into its rusty side.

Any attempt at human communication was rebuffed with bared, tinted teeth and a guttural hiss that expelled viscos ropes of textured spittle.

“Hahaha, gross!” commented Doug Suttles, CEO of Ovintiv “f*ck, nasty. Christ. Ew”

“Do you know him?”

“Well, like, kind of. My company was based out of Alberta but uh... we had to get out of there. We even had to change our name so he wouldn’t find us. It’s really embarrassing, but like honestly I’m super worried about him.”

Kenney’s knobby tongue is raking along the rusted exterior of the barrel. His body shudders, as if trying to engorge his loins with blood that long ago stopped flowing.

“Yeah, super sad, he’s like incredibly dangerous too.”

What happened to this poor wretch, you might ask? Love can untwist the hateful overcooked pretzel to the sleek, lubed glaze of a tubular Olive Garden breadstick. But so too can it mangle the noble, golden French fry into that wedding ring of disingenuity: the curly fry. Ours is a tragedy of the latter. 

The love is between a province and its oil, it was beautiful, ecstatic at first. We soared with an abandon so high we were blinded by the basking sun’s rays, and went still upwards, upwards. Ascending even while we curdled in the sun’s unmitigated solar radiation.

We escaped earth’s gravity and the coddling updraft that raised our love abated, then disappeared altogether. It left us adrift in the frictionless madhouse of low earth orbit. There is no way back, we are slowly orbiting space junk frozen in the supernatural cold.

Kenney sits at the helm of this metaphor. Naked save an I <3 Canadian Oil and Gas hoodie to conceal his six withered breasts, and a pair of flip flops. He’s like a less charming Gollum.

“Oh check it out he’s eating his own skin! Haha oh man that’s disgusting!”

One of the horrified and unwilling audience members lightly vomits into a gilded napkin. An errant rain of aubergine chunks miss their intended target fall to the floor. Kenney eyes the oral excrement and licks his lips.

Anyhow, I’m 99% sure this never actually happened. The painting itself is quite large, 4ftx5ft. I’m hoping to get $30 000 000 for it but am open to counter-offers.


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