I first noticed my predilection for red things a few months ago. To be honest, I’ve been a little slow on the uptake as the whole scarlet object things has been going on for years and I have simply not been paying attention. It kind of crept up on me like that horrible little fellow in the film ‘Don’t Look Now’. I didn’t even see it coming. Like that bit in Close Encounters of the Third Kind when Richard Dreyfus starts playing with his mashed potato, I suddenly realised how the whole thing comes together.
The thing about red things is that in nature they are used in the aquatic world to ward off predators. ‘Don’t touch me, I’m poisonous’ is what the bloody hue generally communicates. But in botany, the friendly berry-red hawthorn on the bough is saying, ‘come on birdies, tuck in. How the heck are we going to spread our seeds without you eating us and pooing us out all over the shop?’
They are lures, the red things. Designed to lure you in and make you consume them almost before you really know what you are doing.
And that’s what just happened to you.
Below are some of my red things. There’s a red book, a red fillum and another red fillum. If you don’t consume them, well, how else am I going to spread my seed? How else are my red things going to be dispersed?
There's a short red comic film about modern art and it's critics. This has the added joy of being free. The Art of the Critic
Finally there's dear Eric of course, who is a book, as if you didn't know, about George Orwell waking up in the body of a homeless man in contemporary Britain. Eric is Awake
Thank you for visiting the blog today and allowing yourself to be coerced into an abusive commercial relationship. I promise it won’t happen again. Next time it will be back to the usual politics, random observations and fleshy tubeness you know and love.
Have a nice day.
Now please wash your hands. Commerce is a filthy business.