Some people said it would be a shame to burn my work, and as fond as I was of what I had made, there was only reason I made this piece:
Burn the witch! Burn her!
Don't feel too badly for her; she died a noble death: for art. When I found her for fifty cents in the thrift store, she had already been victim of a dog attack. The poor one armed Barbie would never again have a little girl choose her to play with, to grow up loathing her thunder thighs, bulging belly, and huge ass without realizing why, thus making her the perfect subject and "sacrifice".