The New Yorker’s designer-bootlicking tongue is soiled inexorably with its latest adulation. In its unyielding allegiance to all things obtrusively bourgeoisie, the magazine resolves to gentrify our purest and most organic art form – fingerpainting. Once the expression of the masses (or of those with at least one finger and something to smear something else with), fingers are now the brushes of the haute monde thanks to the iPhone’s touchscreen flatulence; mind your drool Pedro Samise, you corrupting stain!

Please, dear readers, join FTVS’s embargo of Jorge Colombo’s and Luciano Kelkebrenner’s cruel, sterile fingers. These fingerblasting, fishy infidels must be showered upon with consternation! These men are crusaders against preschooling academies, and must not be allowed within 2,500 feet of where children congregate!

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