By Ernest Hornsleth Bazanye

Kristian Von Hornsleth is a crazy man. Most “modern” artists are. They are crackpots who feed monkeys paint mixed with laxatives and then, after the primates have vomited onto a wide canvas, the artists come to believe that the result is worth admiration, respect and money.
There is this thing called the Turner Prize which every year recognizes the most batshit assault British idlers can effect on the intelligence. I shall ask My Lovely Assistant Dave to tell you about the turner prize.


The point is modern artists are raving loons.

Which should mean Hornsleth is a great artist because this guy is gibberingly, blitheringly, blindingly bonkers. He is gobsmackingly nuts. His screws are not engaged tightly enough in their allotted sockets. I doubt that he has screws at all. The bits of machinery are not connected the way they should be and, instead of staying firm, they float aimlessly through the chaotic void in his skull with an angry cluttering noise. Hornsleth makes mad people look like Madeline Albright.

All this is evident from his paintings.


Although, you have to admit. Some of this stuff is rather clever and thought-provoking. Like Don’t Be Scared, Just Be White… makes you think.



Now, the part where I explain what the hell any of this has to do with you.

Kristian Von Hornsleth had an idea (if you can call a random piece of jagged-edged mental debris spinning randomly and crashing into another random piece of jagged-edged mental debris and setting off sparks an “idea”) for a vast art project. If you clicked the Dave Barry link, you will know that art these days is not just about paintings. It is also about pretty much whatever. I had Katogo for breakfast this morning at the office cafeteria. That is a work of art I call “Eating Katogo.” Genius.

Hornsleth decided to find a Ugandan village and get all the natives to add the name of Hornsleth to their legal names. That is the Hornsleth Village Project. In exchange for their trouble, they get a pig or a goat. Hornsleth will take the pictures and film a documentary as a “an artistic work which deals with identity and the perception of identity. The identity of the artist and his artistic perception of his world is working with the identity of people from Uganda with their own perception of their individuality and with their perception of their world.” (says Wolf-Günter Thiel, a Berlin art historian.

Or something.

I don’t see a problem. A small, painless, ultimately useless legal procedure is a small price to pay for the enhancement of one’s livelihood. I would do it. Not for a pig, of course. Perhaps for a Nokia 6230i. I am not a fancyphoneophile, but I would like to be able to surf blogs from my phone, and my current 6220 cannot get Minty and Kenyanchick. For a free 6230i I would change my name to LaShaniqua. Ernest S. S. F. L. Bazanye. You see, I already have legal names I don’t use.

No problem, right?


Ooops.



This is James Nsaba Buturo. He is the Minister of Ethics and Integrity. Such a mealy-mouthed title obviously brings some confusion as to what exactly his job is supposed to be, but Jimmy made a decision. He decided that the nation is a nursery school and he is the nanny. Nsaba Buturo does not know that we are fucking adults and that we don’t need his nosey ass running our lives.

He has halted the project because he found out that Hornsleth is gay and is not a Christian. 180 broke people are going to grass free pigs because the guy distributing them is not Mother Theresa.

I have no idea where to start getting mad at this guy: If a grown man decides to make a deal with a gay nutcase for a free pig, how does this become any of Nsaba’s business?
It is NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, NSABA! GO AWAY! GO HOME! GET A REAL JOB!

Secondly, what is he saying? That homosexual people should not help the poor in Uganda? The World Bank, IMF, USAID, UN etc—yeah. Since these organisations do not screen employees for sexual orientation, I am sure there are no homosexuals signing checks that end up paying Uganda government wages.

If you want to do something about name-changing homosexuals whose names are carried by Ugandans, ban all those Sean John shirts.