A museum is a mausoleum, an art gallery is a brothel. On theater stages desiccated skeletons dance in time to funeral bells. Art is a wanton whore, and I despise her. After all, she has so little self-respect, the syphilitic sycophant, doing her song and dance for all her suitors! Frankly, it embarrasses me! But, I ask you, why should I be the first one to say so? For centuries we have congregated about her temple, purring perfumed praise into her ears. Honeyed hymns of love, rhapsodies that would... read more
