Fuck Bob Ross.
Don’t get me wrong, he was a great guy–may he rest in peace.
But seriously, ----- him and his happy little trees, too.
You may be wondering what the hell is wrong with me, as it is a widely accepted fact that everyone loves The Ross-ster. Don’t worry, I’ll address that in a moment.
Let me first state that I would be slightly disturbed if everyone felt this way about Bob. So, to be clear, this is not a universal ” ----- you” to him–that’s not the case I’m trying to make here. It’s a rather locally-sourced ” ----- you” instead. This is just, like, my opinion, man.1https://youtu.be/Z-xI1384Ry4?t=72
Like many things in my life, I’ve had hints of raw talent here and there from my early days–namely artistic talent, in the case of today’s tale. But also like many things in my life, my attempts at artistry somehow always resulted in half-assery. As Daddy Pig might say, “I’m a bit of an expert at half-assing things.”2https://teeshirt21.com/product/peppa-pig-daddy-pig-im-a-bit-of-an-expert-fathers-day-daddy-pig-guys-tee-b9akW
Anyways, I clearly remember working on my masterpieces when I was young. Usually it was faces that I would draw, and I would always get out to a nice, solid start. Fairly realistic eyes, complete with a little gleam…nice strong bridge of the nose…not-too-caterpillary eyebrows conveying a friendly contenance…decent enough nose and nostrils…and lips that were still fairly human…
But there was always a voice in the back of my head telling me I should stop after the lips. Needless to say, I never listened to that voice. “Just the lips”3That’s what she said. were never enough for me.
Each time, I would witness my Goya turn into a Dali right before my eyes. It’s as if my subjects were the Nazis in Raiders of the Lost Ark, beholding the Ark of the Covenant for the first–and obviously, last–time. It wasn’t pretty. To be fair, I should clarify that 3/4 of the face would be at least serviceable. It would be the chin, the hairline, the ears, the misshapen and disproportionate body, and whatever the hell I attempted to put in the background that would look like it was melting.
(As an inappropriate use of parenthetical statements, I’m just now realizing that there was one exception to this madness: pirates. I guess that’s probably because the whole pirate experience–you know, scars, missing eyes and limbs, parrots, tattered sails and the like–was so ----- up that it was a nice match for my ----- up art skills. But I digress. Enough with the piracy already.)
So, pirates and their peg legs notwithstanding,4Its a pun. Pun intended. I could never produce a complete piece of art. Hell, I would have been happy to nail 50% of the drawing without dropping the ball.
I think I might have actually made it to 50% on several occassions, but instead of leaving the rest of the page blank and walking away [mostly] a winner, I never knew when to quit. It’s like a part of me–let’s call him The Back Seventy–would be like “Hey, there Front Thirty, that’s a nice picture you got going there. But we wouldn’t want to be too successful, would we? We can’t have that. Let me fix it for you…”
The point of the story is that pretty much my whole life I’ve had this deeply ingrained sense of inevitable doom, in which all previous hard work/good luck will eventually be trodden over by hubris, incompetence, and/or misguided ambition, if only given enough time.
Come to think of it, this actually is a pretty accurate template for most of my romantic endeavors, but that’s a story or two for another time…
I would like to believe that I’m starting to paint a clearer picture of why Bob Ross can go stuff all those paint brushes up his ass for all I care…but I’m afraid just the mere analogy of painting will trigger The Back Seventy in me to take over and drive this whole beautiful train of thought off the rails and over a cliff.
But ever the optimist, I shall attempt to at least connect the dots. Anyone reading this far deserves at least that much.
Most people I know coo over Bob Ross and how soothing it is to watch him paint, allowing his Zen voice to wash over their semi-clothed beings as they are lulled into blissful sleep. That’s nifty and all, and I suppose I’m happy for all y’all for whom that is the Bob Ross Experience. Congratulations.
Meanwhile, I’m over here projecting all my insecurities onto him, resulting in me being awash in nothing but anxiety.
You know how some people yell at the screen during horror movies, imploring them bitches not to go in that door and instead vacate the premises in a timely manner? Yeah, that’s me, imploring Bob “YOU DON’T NEED PEACEFUL MOUNTAINS IN THE BACKGROUND OR A GROVE OF YOUR HAPPY-ASS TREES! BE CONTENT WITH THE LAKE, MAN. WALK AWAY, BOB, JUST WALK AWAY BEFORE YOU LOSE IT ALL!”
But that asshole never listens. Instead, he just calmly sticks the landing, taunting me with what I can never have…
The point of the story is, embrace the things that bring you joy, but be hesitant to assume that this joy is universal.
You never know, one man’s angel might be another man’s be-fro’d demon.
Content created on: 17 July 2019 (Wed), Revised 24 July 2019 (Wed)
Footnotes & References:
I think this is spot on… and one of the reasons for a lot of disagreement, strife, war, and so no.
Not the bit about Bob Ross. I think Bob Ross is fantastic!
But that’s kind of the point. I THINK Bob Ross is fantastic, and clearly not everyone does.
In the same way, ideas, values, norms, etc. that we just think of as fundamental, immutable, and universal are far from that. Scientific American just featured an article about how differently we just perceive the physical universe (https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/the-neuroscience-of-reality/). Remember that white-gold (or blue-black) internet thing? And that was just about colors. If we can’t agree about physical sensations, then it is no surprise that different people have different ideas about philosophy, religion, and morality.
Not to say that there is not an objective reality. There most certainly is. But there is plenty of room to have legitimate disagreements over none objective topics. Learning to identify them, talk about them with people we disagree, and gain the ability to sympathize with the other opinion is vital if we want to regain civility in our discourse with each other.
From the first sentence, I could tell I would have a headache if I tried reading this & block out all words I don’t use. So whatever this says, I will never know.
Hello, Mother.
Too bad you didn’t read it. I fancy it to be one of my more profound works thus far.
And also: WOW. The censor totally failed on this one, I’m not sure why, as of the typing of this comment, that it seems to only have censored the f-bomb in the title, but left like 8 intact in the post itself. I must investigate…