fiction vs. fact.

Realized this morning, whilst in the shower, that I've been expecting Art to save my life for Far Too Long. From the 8 year old with the pile of paper and pencils copying picture books before giving them away as birthday presents, to the 35 year old who looks at every single situation as if the strategics of artistic fate are going to solve it/make it come clear/workable in a real-life platform.
Ass is ass. Doesn't matter how good the story is or the drawings look.