Dads are the Original Hipsters

Your dad was art as fuck before you were and he’s gone samurai on a canvas for a performance piece to prove it. His work was so fringe and shrouded in meaning that even Andy Warhol couldn’t wrap his pop-art brain around it. Looking at his work was like being fist-slapped upside the dome with Crayola Crayons on acid and then thrown into a M.C. Escher painting. He was a revolutionary in the post-industrial chaos scene in SOHO and his influence was so underground that nobody even realizes they’re plagiarizing his style today. His creative craftings help him woo Lisa Frank, who he then broke up with for becoming too mainstream. 

So hipsters, next time you’re doing performance art in an attempt to express the mid-class demons that you’ve carried with you your entire life, while wasting all your dad’s money on a degree that will ultimately result in you being a barista for the rest of your life, remember this…

Your art will always be as good as finger painting compared to the King Kong of Canvas, your dad. 

Your dad was an artist before you were. He was the Bob Ross of painting broads and just like Bob Ross, he can paint a mean bush. He was the Van Gogh of vag, the Picasso of pussy and the Warhol of getting women wet. So hipsters, next time you’re belly up to a canvas at liberal arts school staring directly into the dong of a male model, remember this…

your dad didn’t need school to be an artist and he for damn sure never practiced penis painting.