Doomed To Be Stoned
Jack Kevorkian’s Art Is Full of Skulls, Duh
The notorious serial killer and/or suicide rights case worker —  depending on your outlook — has recently died from kidney problems and  pneumonia complications at 83. According to his obit in The New York Times,  Dr. Death took up euthanasia in ’80s “after an undistinguished career  in medicine and an unsuccessful try at a career in the arts.”
The artist’s comment on For He is Raised, the one with the macabre rabbits and ACID BATH - Paegan Terrorism cover art:

The annual resurrection by dumb bunnies of a pathetic,  despairing,   almost scorned image of purported divinity is hardly  noticeable amid the  garish paraphernalia of irresistible paganism at  its vernal orgy.   It is a spectacle badly conceived, poorly manipulated  and superbly  desecrated by the disciples of Mammon, who,  with armfuls  of brilliant  multi-colored eggs and with gleeful joy,  framed in  parade-stopping  millinery, might,  in a rare pseudo-pious mood briefly  condescend to  acknowledge some sort of disquieting mystery  pervading  it all.  Such is the perfunctory Easter of modern  western society that  seems to have lost appreciation for anachronisms  like rods and staffs  and angels and lambs.

Jack Kevorkian’s Art Is Full of Skulls, Duh

The notorious serial killer and/or suicide rights case worker — depending on your outlook — has recently died from kidney problems and pneumonia complications at 83. According to his obit in The New York Times, Dr. Death took up euthanasia in ’80s “after an undistinguished career in medicine and an unsuccessful try at a career in the arts.”

The artist’s comment on For He is Raised, the one with the macabre rabbits and ACID BATH - Paegan Terrorism cover art:

The annual resurrection by dumb bunnies of a pathetic, despairing, almost scorned image of purported divinity is hardly noticeable amid the garish paraphernalia of irresistible paganism at its vernal orgy. It is a spectacle badly conceived, poorly manipulated and superbly desecrated by the disciples of Mammon, who, with armfuls of brilliant multi-colored eggs and with gleeful joy, framed in parade-stopping millinery, might, in a rare pseudo-pious mood briefly condescend to acknowledge some sort of disquieting mystery pervading it all. Such is the perfunctory Easter of modern western society that seems to have lost appreciation for anachronisms like rods and staffs and angels and lambs.

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    Jack Kevorkian’s Art Is Full of Skulls, Duh The notorious serial killer and/or suicide rights case worker — depending on...
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