>Rebecca and I went to the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) on Tuesday. Thanks to my $25,000 tuition at the New School, we saved $20 on my admission and $12 on Rebecca's and got in for free when I showed my school ID card. If that's not a bargain, I don't know what is.

We wandered aimlessly, and came across a work by Carroll Dunham, which depicted square objects that looked like trees, monsters, or robots with shooting penises:


For a few minutes, we were stunned.

"When I went to museums with some other friends, I used to play a game we called, 'Can I make, too?'" Rebecca said. "I think the answer here is yes. It looks like a doodle made by a fourth grader!"

"Nah, I think you don't give him enough credit. I say an eighth grader. Fourth graders might not draw so many penises."

We continued through the museum, coming to a room with white walls and black writing on it. The art project is to have a museum staff person measure your height and record it on the wall with your first name and the date. The swirling black writing concentrated in the range on 5'3" to maybe 6'00" looked like a swarm of angry bees against the stark white paint. This was pretty awesome, Rebecca and I agreed.

Ah, modern art. I scratch my head (or laugh) at most of it, but then something really connects with me.

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