I don’t make art. Never have done. I don’t want to. When I write, be it comics, tweets, plays or porn, I write to entertain. Usually, I’m writing to make people laugh. Ten years ago, during the rehearsals for a play I’d written, I had a row with the director. He wanted another set of revisions on the play. Which would have been reasonable had I not rewritten the play twelve times in the course of five weeks already, even adding a second act! He said he was interested in making art. I told him to fuck off. The more the show got rewritten, the worse it got. In the end, it was a sprawling mess. All in the name of art.
When I was a kid, I watched The Muppet Movie. A lot. It was one of the only VHS tapes I had. Towards the end, Kermit has a monologue about his dream of singing and dancing and making people happy. And that’s stuck with me. Anyone can make art. All it takes is the right amount of talent and pretension. But to be entertaining? To make people smile? Make them forget the world for a moment? That’s what makes life worth living.