Graffiti art takes a LOT of practice. We can’t all be the next Dalek overnight, and there’s a lot of clumsy property damage between that first can on paint and gallery shows worldwide. It takes tags to make murals and murals validate Krylon krapmeisters — that’ s the yin and yang of it.

Sometimes graffiti’s just some prick with a spray-can. And every now and then, that spray-can lameness is so incredibly lame that it collapses in on itself and becomes a white dwarf of sheer wackness that blazes so brilliantly that it’s a form of retarded genius. It achieves artistic singularity, simultaneously shitty and incredible.

My friend Phil snapped this from a bike trail in Chapel Hill, N.C. Hey man, even Banksy had to start somewhere …

The only way this graffiti could be improved is if there were never a band called “Grateful Dead.”