Digital/Video: Terrortubbies (Arbet Fursan)

by Beauchamp Art

Terrortubbies (Arbet Fursan)

Terrortubbies (Arbet Fursan) (Four Hoursemen)

The Teletubbies, the bringers of Western Imperialist television propaganda captured and awaiting conviction and justice at the hands of the great antagonist and insurmountable ideological archenemy to Plutocratic-Democracy, Neo-Liberal Capitalism and Freedom for the Privileged; dialectically opposed to the neo-Faschist Nationalism using the language of extremist religious dogma that indoctrinates and massacres follows of the faith it proposes it represents. Blossoming from the decimation left in the wake of a century and more of malfeasance in the Middle East over resources and total negligence towards the civilian population, deprived of hope, bruising the promise of piece in the eyes of naive, soaking the already barren earth with blood and ash, trampled by the bringers of war from all sides. Not a child can play in the street for fear of death from above, and the civilisation on which they stride giving way beneath them.

Fireworks crack overheads of those blessed with the images of terror safely secured behind telescreens; watching as they watch, whilst half a world a way those people like neighbours and brothers and sisters are decimated by the spectacle of their own demise. The gifts from the new Enola descend as rockets rain upwards and crash back below, scattering the sanctimony of society to the wastes, as one totalitarian government battles a black and white flag with one hand, whilst crushing its own people beneath the barrel bomb of a shield it throws forth upon its own citizenry. When the people choose between the lesser of the evils that befall it, what hope is there that they may raise their head in proud defiance and the indignity of the question? Which side need not be asked when no one force faintly embodies the will of the people besides the power of the masses as one flesh, tanned together before the scorching whips one bastard enemy or another.


Why must sons or daughters stand asunder, when all around crashes with thunder? How would one weather such a storm when wild winds rasp the withered tapestry of society, its threads unwoven by the calamity that has befallen it? Should all that is innocent be raped and burned in order that a hollow peace may grace the unmarked graves of another nation?