Nympho:
[
to Jerome] I just want you to know I *definitely* don't have AIDS. I mean, I've been tested like 40 times so I know for a fact.
Professor Sandiford:
Now I don't have any particular wisdom to impart to you people, except to say this, these four words - don't have unrealistic expectations. If you want to make money, you might as well drop out right now, go to banking school, or website school - anywhere but art school. And remember, only 1 out of 100 of you will ever make a living as an artist.
Bardo:
I'm a living cliché just like the rest of these guys. I'm the guy who keeps dropping out and changing his major just because he's afraid he really sucks at everything.
Bardo:
[
holding up clay pipe] This is ready for the kiln.
Young Jerome:
[
dressed as Pablo Picasso] I am a genius. I am the greatest artist of the twentieth century. I pretty much invented modern art, and I do weird abstract paintings even though I could paint totally realistic if I wanted to. Also, even though I am super short and bald, I am able to have sex with any beautiful woman I want just because I'm so great.
Vince:
I've gotta cream soma kinda love story into this thing man. Skanks, make up fifty per cent of the audience
Vince:
Man, if she were my girlfriend, I'd be pounding that night and day.
Professor Sandiford:
Now, everyone don't be so hard on Jerome. He is attempting to achieve the impossible. He is trying to sing in his own voice using someone else's vocal cords.
Professor Sandiford:
Now Eno, why haven't you been doing the assignments?
Eno:
Frankly, I find them constricting and largely irrelevant. My work has nothing to with form or light or color, but with questioning the nature of aesthetic experience.
Professor Sandiford:
I'll buy that.
Eno:
It has the singularity of outsider art,though the conscious rejection of spatial dynamics could only come from an intimacy with the conventions of picture-making.
Jerome:
Are you kidding me?
Eno:
The history of art is largely about the implementation of masculinity.That is such bullshit.Part of some Darwinian imperative. Most artists become artists because they have no way to attract a mate. I hardly think I'm the first to point out that the vast preponderance of artists are, shall we say physiologically deficient in some way.
Bardo:
Why are you such an asshole?
Marvin Bushmiller:
Now, that's a great question. No, it really is!
Jimmy:
Jerome, are you exceptionally skilled as a cocksucker? It wasn't a rhetorical question. Are you a great artist when it comes to fellatio?
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