PTSD Art

Mull of Kintyre pricks are not offensive but fully erect pricks are, and don’t you dare bring a vagina near the TV screen. Did you know that there are Lesbians in the world, and Homosexuals? Did you know there are people spread along an entire spectrum of sexual identity that flows without bounds from the bounding walls of heteronormativity?
Apparently some people didn’t, or don’t. They shrank in front of the Kinsey Scale. Juergen was wearing a photosuit and was walking around the gallery capturing people’s reactions, which he liked to call emotional refractions, and he pumped them through his fractal algorithm that he had written, and waited for the live wall to populate with new remix art.
There was someone who had eaten a chemical distillation of Metal Machine Music and was vomiting Warhol bananas into the corner. A monkey came over, peeled one, and went back to its own corner and started typing a new Shakespeare play on a Kerouac roll of paper. The road started in that room.
The whole thing was a sensation. They called it PTSD art. Some said it was an important new direction; others said it was derivative schlock pornography. Juergen knew it for what it was: a moment that was gone and which would not be repeated.