I'm a fan of real art. The sort of arduous effort that produces beautiful results. I'm talking about paintings that are nearly indistinguishable from photos, landscapes that are able to stir thoughts of grandeur and the feeling of awe as you take in what the world is like in its most glorious moments, or music that sweeps you up in an unstoppable lift as the crescendo builds, explodes, and fades out, leaving you overwhelmed and wanting more.  This crap isn't art, except in the way that a shanty shack in the outskirts of a Brazilian town is architecture. I'm disgusted by how loose people have become with their language; meanings blurring as one word slips into the traditional place of another when a piece of human trash tries to gain the connotations of a word that doesn't depict their subject (whether themselves or their work) as the festering pus-bubble that it is.