Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Clown Torture

“So where to?”

“Let’s go take in those Dali’s and then you mentioned something else going on?”

“The Byzantine exhibit?” Which is more appropriately called: Heaven and Earth: Art of Byzantium from Greek Collections.

“Yes, that.”

We walked through the modern art, skipped down the stairs, and walked past Clown Torture on our way to the Hall of the Gods.

“Did I tell you I went in to see Clown Torture?” the Author asked.

I had seen Clown Torture just before leaving Chicago, on a day when I was visiting the city and taking in my favorite place to hang out.

“It really is clown torture, isn’t it?” I said.

“I mean, at first, you are like, okay, it’s kind of funny in a disturbing sort of way. Then it keeps going, and, yeah, it’s like this really is clown torture.”

“The image of the clown stuck on the toilet forever reading bad magazines and trying to get toilet paper will haunt me until I die.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“That and the joke. The way he tells that joke, as it devolves into the like, Sisyphus-ian nightmare of the bad joke that will never end.”

We walked by without stopping to see Clown Torture again.

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