The original photo is available by clicking the “Pure Steve” tab above. Feel free to copy it and send a photoshopped version to fifthavenuegazette@yahoo.com. I will upload every image I receive including, if you like, your name and home city and state. Just keep the image the same size as these and go ahead and recommend a title in the form of’ “The _____ Steve.” I might use it; I might not.
For the record, Steve was born October 5, 2005, in Orange County, California. His full name is Steven Gabriel Phillips. He now weighs six pounds, has an extra canine tooth on the upper left and has learned nothing except how to excrete more than he ingests and how to suck his own penis, insistently. His father (that’s me – Steve is a poor speller) publishes stories about him occasionally on a number of websites and in select print publications.
Write with any questions and either Steve or I will get back to you.
Tony–
Wow, this is nothing short of amazing. I wish I was a Photoshop monger: I’d cancel Mother’s Day brunch– or just not show up– and spend the next six hours morphing yer dog. Okay, twelve.
Alas, I’m not. I’m only a songwriter, so maybe I’ll just have to write a song about him. Don’t laugh, my aunt’s cat Esmerelda got a song out of me, and she’s a bitch, so it’s not about entitlement. Good luck with Steve, and all his artistic renditions.
As for my expressionism, you can check out some of my scrawlings at the myspace blog– come to think of it, as of this writing, I don’t think anyone ever has. You might like “Soot: An Addict’s Cantata”; it’s something Dr. Seuss might’ve composed, had he had our addictive affliction.
Sent the CD out yesterday, you should get it tomorrow.
Peace,
JD
Tony,
This is perhaps the funniest concept I have seen in I don’t know how long. I applaud your ingenuity and Steve’s ability to stand still while others creatively alter his image without the benefit of mind-inducing drugs (at least, on my part).
I will coerce my daughter, a veritable whiz at and fool for Photoshopping, to faux-render my submission later this week after she has beaten her self-esteem to a bloody pulp with this year’s weapon of choice, four AP exams. (Acne is SO 2006.)
Admiringly yours,
CP
P.S. My chihuahua Petey eats cat scat. Top THAT, Steve.
Ma Cherie -
Not sure Steve can top cat scat consumption. However, I did catch him scurrying about the living room the other day trying to conceal one of his own inappropriately shat nuggets, IN HIS MOUTH. It takes a special dog to be Steve. Thankfully for Steve and me, he’s up to the task.