Not a Lot Changes in a Year.

In other news:Here's just some thinking, because sometimes it just has to be done. (Can we get an Amen?) [AMEN!] Thank you, Cecil. I have been thinking about Art lately. Garfunkel, you ask? No. Linkletter? Not particularly. I mean like expression. Museums. Art. Sometimes when you go into a museum there's a display where a yellow chair is hanging out behind a velvet rope pole and there's a popcorn kernel on the floor by the back left leg of the chair. There's a plaque next to it that reads "Lonely Screening" and the name "Hershey P. Flugerniffen" is nicely italicized below it. Now, I'm not going to argue the validity of Mr. Flugerniffen's artwork. What I am curious about, however, is who one would go to to say "this wadded up kleenex with kool-aid on it should go into a museum." I mean, seriously. If I could make some money off of my old shoes stapled to a board, than sign me up! Just tell me where to go! I can paint a blue box on a yellow canvas! I can bend a fork around a wooden spoon! I am an artist, too!
On the same track, what about these books we purchase for our toddlers today? 6 pages long. Text reads: Look at the firetruck; VROOM!; See it race to the fire.; WWEEEEEEEIIIIWWWWW!!!!; Oh no, Billy! Don't get wet!; Thanks Mr. Fireman!
Seriously! I could SO be a children's author. Especially because I'd like my children to grow up illiterate by wasting their 5 year old time on that crap.
Once I did a connect-the-dot that had 450 numbers in it, and also the letters of the alphabet. It turned out to be an owl. Not that's art.