The Unreliable Truth

Landru wasn't a friend of his so much as someone he visited when too much unfocused human loathing built up in him. There was nothing Landru did that did not bring more praise or riches showering down upon him. The only thing more universally admired than Landru's art was Landru himself. Landru had the common touch. Standing there in his linen chinos and his two-hundred dollar chambray work-shirt, Landru could converse just as easily with someone who made a hundred-thousand a year as with someone who made a hundred times that much.

Landru's latest masterpiece and media sensation was a huge collage made up largely of the paperwork for grants and commissions which Landru had been offered but did not deign to accept. Landru was explaining to a small crowd of viciously chic admirers that the government and most large corporations were corrupt and immoral institutions.

As he listened to Landru go on about how both art and artist are demeaned and debased by dirty money he found himself thinking that demeaned and debased were two very overrated conditions.

Go to:
Flightless Hummingbird:  A Pseudo-Periodical