Why do we art?

There's a lot of practical shit I could be doing with my time. I could learn to build houses, fix cars, run some sort of retail outlet, or maybe figure out how these magical computer devices do what they do. It wouldn't be hard either. I'm not retarded. I can do things.

The problem, friends, is that I don't feel like it. I'd rather make up stories about people that don't exist in order to illustrate ideas that don't matter. I obsess over every last detail until I've got this shiny story, and I can't even eat it. It just sits there, mocking me like fake pie.

Most of you do the same shit, whether with your music or your poorly drawn comics. But why? What does art do?

I'm aware that it makes the world pretty, and I suppose there's no reason to bust your ass at actual work if you don't have to, but there's obviously more to it than that. There's that nagging drive to perfect your style, that amazing kicked in the gut feeling when you see or hear or read something done right. And they teach all sorts of classes about the shit at community college. It must be important.

I have two theories on the subject. One is sincere, and frankly a tad faggy, while the other is something an arrogant dick would say on the internet. Guess which one I feel like sharing.

Art is and always will be a selfish quest for cash stacks and immortality. As proved by Science, dying totally blows. The only way to avoid it is to make something so technically bad ass that people will have to talk about it for years in order to fully comprehend just how awesome you were (and by you, I mean me).

Also, no one really cares about anyone else's selfish bullshit, but we all know that if we don't pretend to give a fuck about Beethoven and Shakesqueer (did you see what I did there?), no one will remember us. Let's be real here. Beethoven didn't have distortion pedals, turntables, or rhyme skills...so fuck him.