Diary of the fleshsculptor.
The Battle at the Valley of Mars
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10 July, 2001
As I entered the house the wonderfully cold air conditioned breeze wafting throughout the finely appointed domicile washed over my sweaty naked skin raising gooseflesh. It was amazing to me that in this culture of puritanical affectation a man, birthday suited, could walk right up to a house and break in with out even being noticed. Just goes to show how blind the populace of a totalitarian state actually is, though I suppose the collective intelligence quotient of a nation which celebrates the sacrifices that our founders made to insure freedoms as many times a year as we do while handing those same freedoms over to the first well meaning facist they meet in exchange for a more comfortable life can't be quite as high as my diminuitive shoe size. ha! gnats I say.

Looking through the guts of this celebrated hero's townhome I was struck with an epiphany. I would create my greatest sculpture yet! THE RAPE OF LIBERTY. It was an inspired idea, my belated independance day gift to the world.

Slowly, silently, so that I wouldn't have to ruin my art supplies, I crept up the stairs and down the corridor. I lubed the hinges of the master bedroom door with a can of graphite fluid gleaned from the generals garage so as not to awaken my sleeping models and complicate the task at hand. raising the knife I had brought from the kitchen I plunged the blade deep into our honored war hero's neck severing the spinal cord thus disconecting his brain from his body and leaving him helpless as he bled out into his orthopedic mattress. I quickly dispatched his wife in like fashion and got to work setting up the tools I would need and leaving the kids to thier ronald regan impersonation.

I searched about for the appropriate supplies and stumbled upon mrs. war horse's art supplies. Oh joy, she enjoyed d'coupage and had a large bottle of plaster of paris. No ponderous mixing. While I waited for the rigor to set in and make the posing more manageable, I used one of the lady's power tools to create a mold for my cash cock, lined the mold with money and poured in the "meat" of the only artificial part of the sculpture.

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