Every day we think: this election cannot get more awful and more without relevance.
And every day, we are proved wrong. We the People. The Demos. We the ordinary people who go to work, pay taxes and don’t get to vote on great matters of war and peace.
OOF, oil on canvas, 1962, reworked in 1963. Edward Ruscha, born 1937, American. MOMA, NY
The artist, in light of the common-and-garden comic overtone of this word, wanted also to point to other aspects of this word. A certain, irritated exhaustion. A sense of being unable to stop or change whatever it is that is exhausting and approaching intolerable.
And that is where we are with this dangerous nonsense of a presidential election: our electoral process, long rigged by two parties to exclude all other parties, is broken.
That Trump and Clinton are all that these two parties can propose for president. The one a He-man who never pays taxes and uses his money to buy everyone he can.
The other who believes that ordinary rules do not apply to her any more than telling the truth applies to her. And if her policies have led to thousands and thousands of maimed and dead abroad, well she is sorry but…. American interests requires this.
A million million OOFs.
And the comic aspect of this word is in eclipse now, Mr Ruscha.