The criteria for winning the prestigious Franz Kafka award includes the artwork's "humanistic character and contribution to cultural, national, language and religious tolerance, its existential, timeless character, its generally human validity and its ability to hand over a testimony about our times.”
“Get a load of these syllables...” I say to Kim Kardashian as we sit sipping Cristal on our private Jet. Kim has massive knockers which I refer to as her "dirty pillows." I smother my misshapen head deep into her cleavage whenever I'm feeling lonely.
Some day I'll win the Franz Kafka award, I tell Kim, but Kim doesn't care. She sits and reads a magazine, flicking aimlessly through the glossy pages.
"I'll write about our experiences..." I tell Kim, hopefully. I take a sip from the long flute of Cristal and it wets my lips. "You remember that time we went to the beach? A testimony of our times...An incisive testament to the human condition...Kim, are you there Kim? Are you even listening?"
Kim is oblivious, her head is in the sands of the magazine. She never really was a fan of the arts...However, she did say to me one time that she likes Kanye West's music, but that doesn't really count, does it?
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