Am I Free Range?

Live Free Range Or Die Hard

Having solved all the significant issues facing our world, issues such as racism, ethnic cleansing, child labour, child soldiers, poverty and sexual slavery of helpless young girls, I decided to focus my attention on improving my dietary intake. After all, what better way to say I care about our planet than to say I want my food to be organic; not for selfish reasons, but because of the benefits it presents to the carrots and radishes inhabiting our planet and their right to grow under humane conditions. I myself had refused to accept, for the longest time, the wholesale massacre of vegetables under the banner of vegetarianism. I refused the word organic describing food since I assumed anything I eat would be, by definition, organic, which is why I eat it, and not synthetic, which is usually what I wear. However, with the advent of Obama and the coalition of hope I decided to reconsider my rigid and dogmatic view of the world and read more about healthier lifestyle: less fat, more exercise, and so on. 

One of the topics that truly captured my imagination was the issue of free range animal husbandry. At first I thought this is another alternative life style where one, after a certain period of courtship, takes a chicken or a rooster as spouse. The mechanics of such a relationship didn’t quite make sense to me but I kept my mouth shut since I did not want to be accused of bigotry. After all, who am I to judge? It wasn`t until sometime later when I realized I was reading about how chickens, eggs, and livestock in general are taken care of and produced for the purpose of human consumption. But as I read more and more I came to a radical and eye opening realization: that I am not free range. So I asked myself, isn’t it hypocritical for me to expect the animal I eat to have a better lifestyle than me?

You may ask, what do you mean? This doesn’t make sense. Well, let me explain. The definition of free range, to be clear, is: “a method of farming husbandry where the animals can roam freely for food, rather than being confined in an enclosure. On many farms, the outdoors ranging area is fenced, thereby technically making this an enclosure, however, free range systems usually offer the opportunity for extensive locomotion and sunlight prevented by indoor housing systems”. 

Well, are we, these dwellers of modern urban landscape, buried in our iPods, iPads, iMacs and other iCraps, truly roaming free? Do we see enough sunlight? Do we even notice the sun when we’re outside typing on our virtual keyboard searching for the weather condition as we are soaked wet under the pouring rain? Do we have a big enough enclosure within our cubicles, cars, local buses and subways breathing air conditioned air and observing the world under a neon light through a window, whether made of glass or version 8? Do we, these Pub inhabiting, sports-watching, video-game-in-the-basement-playing global villagers have a big enough space and a wide enough fence enclosure to roam? Would we be able to lay eggs that a free-range-chicken buys? Do we have tenderloins tender enough for a cow to buy on its local super market, preferably at full price and without a coupon? If the roles were reversed, would Donald Duck, as the inspector of organic human farms, certify us as organic, with no anti-biotic residue and chemical free? Would Donald approve our life style as stress free lives in green pastures with enough sunlight to brighten our days and pleasant enough to force us to take the drastic and dramatic step of saying hi to a stranger in the elevator? Would Donald, certify us as free range?

In all fairness, I do think of myself as a tender, somewhat delicious man, but I am not sure if I would pass this test. The fact is, I am not free range. I can only dream of being in such a farm, roaming freely with chickens and cows in peace and harmony. What would life be like with such freedom? How would I interact with my fellow free rangers? Would free love rule the farm? Would cows and chickens be able to discuss human condition? Would they be able to lead normal lives and date and form a family? If a chicken and a cow met, would they be able to date and form a family? Would their kids be shunned by the larger free range community because of their mixed background? Would their relationship be considered a lesbian relationship and would they avoid discussing the day when they will be on the McDonald’s menu list?

The fact is we will never know, and most of these questions are irrelevant to the original question anyway. But one thing we do know is we have a long way to go to reach the type of living standards we promote for our livestock. I am free, but not within range. And maybe that’s the safest way to live.   

Six Degrees Of Separation, Five Links And A Chain

Hungarian Playwrite, Frigyes Karinthy

A few months ago I received a call from my parents to see if Toronto had been impacted by hurricane Sandy and how this was affecting my daily commute. Then, they went on to say how closely they were following the situation in New York and expressed their heart-felt sympathy for what people in North-East US were going through and how they wished for everyone to be able to go back to their homes and families. As we continued our conversation we talked about anything ranging from the lady who got hit in Toronto by a flying board sign to the civil war in Syria. During the conversation it never felt I was talking to someone living in Tehran. New York and Damascus felt just around the corner, with familiar streets, images and sounds.

In 1929, the Hungarian playwright, Frigyes Karinthy, proposed the theory of Six Degrees of Separation in a short paper called “Chains”, whereby anyone on the planet can be connected to any other person on the planet through a chain of five intermediaries. Looking at the daily news I can’t help but think that our link to human kind is much closer than the five links Karinthy talks about. We have gone beyond acquaintances to connect to a Mongolian farmer. The reporter and the cameraman have become our world consciousness, if they only knew it.

Karinthy observes in his essay “Planet earth has never been so tiny as it is now. It shrunk…due to quickening pulse of both physical and verbal communication”. So tiny! Isn’t that interesting? Seven billion people on earth moving randomly, their inherent potentialities undiscovered; disconnected though language, culture and race, seemingly carrying a chaotic and arrhythmic momentum, all converging their focus on pain and sufferings of distant lands and alien nations. One planet so small as to manifest the characteristics of a quantum particle, so tiny, that its force of attraction manifests as if it were a sub-atomic entity. This “son of man”, so dispersed and disenchanted, the wayfarer of an as yet undiscovered order, reacting viscerally to journey back to its point of origin in order to discover it essential unity, complete and strong.

We have a “small world problem”(1) where the chaos of our independence clouds the pattern of our interdependence. We are linked through our fear, love, humanity, likeness and diversity. We zoom in ever so closely to see but the recurring pattern of human heart manifesting nothing but its own fractal image on a global scale. Why, the question is, such a small world refuses to recognize its singularity?

It is interesting that we live in such a contradictory condition. On the one hand, our individualism, self-centric and self-serving attitude looking to maximize our pleasure and comfort, and on the other, our regard and concern for those who suffer: we want are diamonds to be mined humanely, our coffee to be free trade and are concerned about child labour when buying a shirt made in the developing world. We love our freedom and comfort but this nagging, ever present conscience prompts us to act or at least think. This emerging global conscience is the chain that is beginning to bind us together. A concert to end poverty won’t end it since it can never address the underlying problems that have got us here, but it is a proof of our desire to act, of our hope for the betterment of the world around us and of our thoughts being guided by a “world embracing”(2) view. We may have not truly become a global village, I think we are some distance from getting there, but we have managed to at least consider and define ourselves not only as citizens of a country but also of a turbulent and crisis ridden world. We ask our politicians to act during crisis in other parts of the world and show our displeasure when our institutions fail to recognize the acts of injustice. The cynic amongst us removes himself from the civil society while the activist uses acts of civic empowerment and civil disobedience to correct it. No matter how, we seem to have become either passive or active links in the chain that links us all together.

As we navigate between the old world and the emerging global civilization we should think of ourselves as the modern day pilgrims of a spiritual Mayflower sailing towards a new age. The journey may be hard, but our resolve is strong; the ocean of hardship may be turbulent, but the desire to see the new world gives us a perspective that makes the voyage worthwhile. The question now is no longer “whether” but “when”. The ideal no longer a work of science fiction but an unfolding story broadcast daily through our news networks, albeit in bits and pieces.

We have managed to take the first step. We are beginning to recognize the truth that always was: the essential unity of our humanity beyond seemingly irreconcilable differences. Everyone is a potential friend or relative, six degrees removed. Now we know.

Footnotes:

        1- The small-world experiment comprised several experiments conducted by Stanley Milgram and other researchers examining the average path length for social networks of people in the United States. The research was ground breaking in that it suggested that human society is a small-world-type network characterized by short path-lengths. The experiments are often associated with the phrase "six degrees of separation", although Milgram did not use this term himself.

        2- Baha'u'llah, Gleanings from the Writings of Baha'u'llah, p. 94: O friends! It behoveth you to refresh and revive your souls through the gracious favors which in this Divine, this soul-stirring Springtime are being showered upon you. The Day Star of His great glory hath shed its radiance upon you, and the clouds of His limitless grace have overshadowed you. How high the reward of him that hath not deprived himself of so great a bounty, nor failed to recognize the beauty of his Best-Beloved in this, His new attire. Watch over yourselves, for the Evil One is lying in wait, ready to entrap you. Gird yourselves against his wicked devices, and, led by the light of the name of the All-Seeing God, make your escape from the darkness that surroundeth you. Let your vision be world-embracing, rather than confined to your own self. The Evil One is he that hindereth the rise and obstructeth the spiritual progress of the children of men.

 

I, Isabel, And The Origin of Love

She was the frame of life I had to freeze. 

Lurking in the labyrinth of my mind

Everyone has, in his past, moments or events which are hard to erase from memory. Some of these events never lose their potency and remain as vivid as the day they happened. In retrospect, however, they all acquire an air of nostalgia. 

I am not sure if my memory of Isabel is a sweet or a sad one.  I met her at a community event years ago. Both being too shy we left it to chance to meet again and, months later, I saw her at a picnic. In total, we may have met four times in a six month period, last one being the one we decided to go on our first date.

It is hard to imagine now how you could be cut off from someone completely, unless by choice, given the slew of communication methods at our disposal. But back in the Jurassic period of land lines only, a home phone was all we had to go by. I remember we gave each other our phone numbers in that last meeting. Not having found anyone with a pen or paper to write it down, we trusted we would remember, and agreed to see each other at a local train station where she lived the following week. I distinctly remember she emphasized how there were two local stations at the opposite ends of the town, about twenty minute walk apart, and which one I was supposed to go to.  We said good bye until the fateful day. I was on cloud nine. I kept thinking how romantic to meet my first love in an old train station, probably going to a local pub (read Poob) were local kids would be hanging out, loud music, smoke clouds and all, to would find a quiet corner, order something and talk.

That Saturday, as I got ready to leave home I had the next two years planned in my head. I had to change trains in Barcelona’s Sants station. I got on. When I arrived at the station I checked the schedule for connecting departures and to my dismay I realized the schedule had changed and the next train would arrive one hour too late. I didn’t have a choice. I waited. The train arrived. I got on. I was restless. I was worried she wouldn’t wait. I arrived in her town. I got off the train. Looked around but couldn’t find her. Went outside the station, on the side walk, looked and waited again. Then I thought, maybe she’d thought I’d gone to the wrong train station by mistake. I asked for direction and ran towards there. Got there, looked around and waited, but couldn’t find her there either. I decided perhaps she had gone back again to the other station looking for me. So I rushed back. She wasn’t there. My legs were tired, but I couldn’t take the chance. I ran back again to the other station again. People must have thought I was mad. I couldn’t find her.
I went back and forth four more times.

 It was 10 at night.  I couldn’t remember her phone number. I knew she thought I’d forgotten. I caught the last train home and hoped she’d call the next day.

What happened the next day to this day puzzles me.  I was home all day. Not hearing anything back stepped for 5 minutes to buy a bottle of Coke and as soon as I came back my roommate said: “Isabel called, I told her you’re not home, she didn’t leave a message”. 

I never saw or heard from her again.

Lurking in the labyrinth of my mind, hidden but not forgotten, Isabel’s memory is as vivid as ever. How can someone you saw so few a times leave such an enduring impression? Why is she the measure, the frame that still bounds my heart? To me, she was more beautiful than Berenice Bejo, more astonishing than Emmanuelle Beart, more fascinating than Marion Cotillard, more captivating than Jean Seberg in a love scene with Jean-Paul Belmondo.

In my memory there is a static image of her, a motion paused, so clear that to this day I can see my reflection in her eyes. Her eyes, the maze of her gaze, the yearning in her glance, the sweetness of her face.  I still find myself lost in the sway of her gait, the quite of her voice taking me into a realm which is beyond love and hate. Those moments, ephemeral as life, eternal as soul, remain clandestine in my heart. Those moments, so far from now, remain present in my mind.  

So now, in the quite of my morning commute, as I block out the hustle and stare silently at the sleepy faces taking the morning train, sometimes, see someone who reminds me of her. I rewind the scene, replay the emotion and re-live the moment in my head: her sitting on the floor looking up at me, the call I missed, my hurried walk between the two train stations. I wonder if she commutes. I wonder if she tells her friends about that fateful date that never was or whether I was just a footnote in her teenage years.  No matter. I embellish the scene in my imagination as I want it to have been.  I blur everyone in the background, remove their colour and silent their voices. It’s just her as I make it to the station in time: She is sitting on the marble steps looking up towards me expectantly after I call het to tell her my train was delayed. All of a sudden, everything and everyone fades out. I zoom in for a close-up until she is the only one in focus. She smiles, pure, in black and white. Her long skirt flowing in the breeze, her hair softly swaying as she tries to keep it from covering her eyes, she leans ever so slightly forward.

I smile back and take her hand.

Hitler's Online Dating Profile

A few days ago I came across something truly astonishing. As I was reasearching the history of Nazi Germany I found a long lost document that contained what is perhaps the first online profile in history. As Nazi scientist were competing with their allied counterparts for supremacy a version of what we now call Internet (known at the time amongst Nazi scientists as Hitlernet) was available to the elite National Socialist party members which was used, amongst other things, for online dating. Adolf Hitler, as the Chancellor posted the very first online profile which interestingly enough was what acquainted Eva Braun with the leader of the Nazi party. I will write about their frigid love affair later but for the first time in history I'd like to publish Hitler's online dating profile for the world to see. I have deleted some of the more controversial profile details but in due time I will leak more of this unbelievable document as I continue my research.



Originally Posted February 1938- 1:20 AM
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Achtung Baby. Provide Your profile in 2000 words or less or your property shall be confiscated.
Heil Hitler

Name: Adolf
Last Name: Hitler
DOB: "Classified"
Interest: Women (maybe men sometimes)
Age: Anyone who can spend more than a few minutes with me
Ethnicity: Aryan
You are interested in dating: Aryans only

Descibe yourself in your own words

My friends describe me as psychologically damaged, mustache loving individual with deep rooted inferiority complex and a bad sense of humour. I like giving public talks usually in a rant. Ever since I was a child, I had a thing for invading our neighbours’ house and putting their defenceless children in confinement unless they gave me a piece of their schnitzel. I enjoy long walks with my niece and particularly like freaking her out by showing romantic interest. I have a talent for driving those near me to suicide and try to maintain a fine balance between promoting genocide and remaining a vegetarian. My friends tell me I am a closet homosexual but just because I enjoy watching men in leather boots marching in military parades doesn’t mean I like men. Just don’t ask Eva why every time she wanted me to get intimate I planned a new Aryan “expansion” surrounding myself with soldiers and generals. 

What are your distinct character traits

Psychopathic with a hint of megalomania

Talk about your values

Don’t have any

Sexuality

Can’t make up my mind. I’m really cofused.

Other than your parents, who has been the most influential person in your life and why?

First of all my parents had no influence on me whatsoever. Second;

Wagner. Listening to his music gives me a feeling of "Je ne sais quoi", how shall I put it, I feel like invading Poland
Nietzsche. Most of my depression comes from reading him. I can’t quite understand what he is talking about. My Jewish friends do, though, and I hate them for it.

What is the most important quality that you are looking for in a partner? Describe your ideal date

Looking for a down to bunker woman of Teutonic descent, who is willing to commit suicide if Russians get to the gates of Berlin; enjoys activities such as quite walks in confined spaces, breaking and burning of Jewish owned properties and setting books on fire.

Other than your appearance, what is the first thing that people notice about you?

I am a few bricks short, which ironically will eventually lead to a brick wall between the East and West Berlin

What is the ONE thing that people DON'T notice about you right away that you WISH they WOULD?

My lack of sense of humour. I hate it when people assume I am being funny just because of the way I give speeches.

What are two things that you "can't live without?"

Flirting with my niece

Listening  to Deepak Chopra while travelling with a Panzer division

Describe the last book you read?

Aryans are from Venus, Jews are from Mars

What are you most passionate about?

I am definitely a Fascist Fashionista, I love brown shirts and boots on men. Very sexy.


[Censored]

The three things your friends say about you

I am not able to have a meaningful relationship with the opposite sex
I am a hard core racist
I have anger management issues

How do you typically spend your leisure time?

Baking with Martha Stewart
Wearing hunting pants in bed when I’m with Eva Braun
Sleepovers at Goebbles where we get into pillow fights.

Favorite Country or Region to visit

Europe, Northern Africa, Russia

What kinds of TV shows do you like to watch?(Please select up to 3)

Reality show like The Nazi Idol and The English shore

What are your most favourite sitcoms?

Two and a half Jews
Law and Order: Special Nazi Unit (SNU)
How I met and killed your mother

What are some of your favorite types of restaurants when it comes to "a big night out:

Going to a Kosher restaurant with my niece and then watch a movie directed by someone whose last name ends with –stein or -berg

[Censored]

Movies- What are your three most favourite movies?

Fiddler on the roof
When Larry (who’s not a Jew) met Harry (who is an Aryan blond)
The Ten Commandments

Lifestyle- If you drop by my home unannounced you will generally find it…

If you ever enter my house unannounced I will kill you.


Which of the following best describes your sense of humor?

Dark, really dark.

Which of the following best describes your approach to money?

A penny saved is a penny earned as long as it is saved in a Swiss bank and can’t be traced to the looted art work from all across the continent.

[Censored]

Leisure

How do you spend most of your spare time? (Please select up to 3) Trimming my mustache and shouting at myself in the mirror

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

ACHTUNG VISITORS
Just remember, profiles with pictures have 600% more response. So if you have a picture and still you don’t get a response call your nearest SS Trooper station. [Censored] Our operators will force some women to call you.

How to reduce ethno-religious groups to stereotypes and sleep well at night [An Excerpt]

A short guide for our multi-cultural society

Many of you may wonder why anyone would write a guide about a topic that by and large most frown upon. The reason is in a truly free society we should all be allowed to develop our skills and use them to foster understanding or at least pretend like we want to. But the fact of the matter is many of us just don’t care enough to spend time to learn about others. We take the easy way out by ordering ethnic food when we’re hungry and, with a straight face, tell our friends about it with the subtext being: “you see, I’m having burritos, I can’t be a racist”; or wish people happy Ramadan and Hanukkah while wishing we just had Christmas to contend with and not all these people with funny hats and razor shy faces (...) The idea is one can be ignorant, but still pretend to love others. Using stereotypes allows us to simulate knowledge and understanding of other cultures, albeit superficially. Here, we are going for optics, nothing else (...)

• Look at the most common traits in their gastronomy and apply it to all their food.

Sometimes tension may be neither ethnic or religious

We know that in many cultures there’s a vast variety of herbs, spices and vegetables used for nourishment. But do we really care? Of course not. Some of those spices smell weird and fill the hallways with odors no amount of Fabreze can get rid of. But we can’t say that to their faces, that would be insensitive and rude. Do you feel like vomiting at the sight of their side dish? No worries, just say you’re on a diet to avoid tasting raw crap on some other vomit looking substance with basil on top. To show your appreciation for their food, pick one item you like and side it with anything in your kitchen and call it ethnic (...) As an example, you should never be bothered with the great culture, civilization and history of Greece which nurtured such rich gastronomy. Just put feta on top of anything and call it Greek. 

• Pretend they have a proud history.

No matter who you talk to they will give you a long speech about the times gone by when they were a proud people, they greatest on earth until some half ass idiot brought their entire civilization to its knees. Don’t ask logical questions such as why was their amazing civilization brought down by a wimpy idiot if they were so great. Just play along and raise your eye brows as a sign of amazement and bewilderment. You can add words like “wow, I didn’t know that" (which for sure is true) and "what a pity" (which is not) for maximum effect (…)

• Act as if their language is beautiful:

You have probably lost count of the number of times you’ve listened to some unintelligible conversation in the subway or on the bus and you thought to yourself: "how on earth do these people understand this gibberish”, or, “what planet are these people from”. One of the rules of living in tolerant society is not to tolerate these thoughts going through your mind. If you feel guilty, go to your nearest Starbucks, order a flavoured coffee (preferably Mocha and non fat to avoid your ass getting wider), and pick up the latest literature on Kyoto agreement. This should cleanse you from the impure thoughts you had a bout the weird languages you heard on the public transit going to work. 

Once you feel ready, go back, find someone who speaks an unintelligible and weird language and say something like: “My God, your language sounds so beautiful! It’s like hearing two birds sing to each other (probably a crow, but don’t specify the type of bird in your mind), what language is that? Can you teach me some words?” Most likely the individual being asked will see right through you like a weatherman through the wind but will respond by teaching you a few profanities and tell you this is how they say hello, I love you. He’ll think you’re an idiot, and you’ll think “I can’t believe I am pretending to like this non-sense”. But the point is you’ve now learned to hide your true feelings with a smile and without spilling your flavoured drink (…)

• Pretend their civilization really contributed to arts and sciences:

OK, so here is one of the most critical and sensitive aspects of a multi-cultural society. By its very definition multi-cultural means that we celebrate what all cultures bring into the mix. But what if some of these cultures don’t bring in anything worth mentioning t? Is jerk chicken realty enough to be in included in the mix of great cultures contributing to the advancement of human civilization? What if some cultures, on a world scale, haven’t really been significant at all? What should you do?

First of all, you should purge yourself from such thoughts and go immediately to your local Starbucks for another flavored something and download the Kyoto agreement for a second reading ( refer to the previous bullet). Then, with a straight face listen to some ethnic dude explaining why if his culture hadn’t invented walking, Edison wouldn’t have discovered electricity. The point here is that we must pretend no one culture has contributed more to the advancement of civilization than any other. The fact that in reality this is completely false is utterly irrelevant. This is about your attitude, not facts, you views and not what really happened in history. Again, you should show complete amazement and surprise if the person mentions that the greatest artistic achievement of his culture has been banging their head against the wall. You should be as impressed as if you were witnessing the first landing on the moon (...)

• Look for the most obvious flaws and extend it to that entire population

This is really a very easy way of saying: “look, who you are and what you do is weird and I assume anybody else coming from where you have come from is also weird and does the things I don’t get”. Historically, we know that in many cases this is true (all middle-eastern women are hairy) and in some cases also true (all Scandinavian women are nymphomaniacs). But the fact remains we do not want to make things complicated. We’re just in need of quick analysis and we can’t be bothered with intricacies (...) 

Challenge Question:

Who is hairier?

[A] Middle eastern men

[B] Italian women

[C] A Scandinavian woman in a same sex partnership with a Middle eastern man

[D] Asian man

As you can tell one of the 4 answers is a giveaway to make it easier for you to go through the exercise (obviously D cannot be true)

(…)

Practice:

On your next trip to work take the subway and stand nearest ethnic looking person. Pay attention to what they are reading and whether you recognize the alphabet or characters. If you don’t, you have an opening. Ask a simple question like: what language is that? It looks really difficult. Continue with questions like: where are you from? Do you believe in polygamy? Spice the conversation with comments like: “I love spicy food”. If they tell you their food isn’t spicy, say something like: “oh, I meant food with a lot of spices in it not hot” (…)

 

Mona Lisa in the Bathtub

In 2004, a group of Italian archaeologists made one of the most amazing discoveries of the early 21^st century. They unearthed a previously unknown painting by Michelangelo, believed to be the inspiration for his subsequent masterpiece, Mona Lisa. This painting, called Mona Lisa in the Bathtub, is one of the pivotal Renaissance works of art,  a period better known to its contemporaries as Epocum di Artisti Homosexualis.

Mona Lisa in the Bathtub with Pro V Shampoo and Conditioner

Michelangelo revolutionized the Renaissance artistic landscape and, as such, exerted great influence on many young artists who ended up going nowhere in their lives. His influence, at once shocking but not absorbing, is even more significant when one doesn’t considers the insignificance of his influence. The score of artists who followed him truly believed in a world where one can draw two parallel lines and colour the in between space and call it art.

This painting has come to symbolize the agony of humanity lost in an ever shifting post hygienic era, where soap and shampoo are missing yet the yearning for a global village where everyone is a potential village idiot is strong. Removed from reality, yet attached to his tunic, Michelangelo opens up a new door as he closes many. His legacy is not so much in form, substance, convention or novelty he brings in, but in the fact that I know how to spell these words. He is most definitely in the top ten most influential artists of all time even though it is futile to rank artists since most don't know how to count.

Michelangelo came from the illustrious Vermicelli family known for its patronage of music and sausage. The Vermicellis were one of the two powerful families in Northern Italy during early Renaissance, the other being the Panzerrotis with whom they competed for supremacy in Florence and Venice. 

One of the main points of friction between the two families was their pedigree. The Vermicellis were direct descendants of Alfredo Fetuccini, who had married Michelangelo’s great grandmother, Maria Molto Picolo Panini.  During the 100 year war the Paninis and the Fetuccinis had different allegiances and would not mix with each other except when forced by tomato sauce. This long family feud gave rise to rivalries which at times were violent and unpredictable, but always included Calamari.

Although little of this feud is known, there are documents which shed light on how the Fetuccinis tried to undercut the Vermicelli’s patronage of sausage and art in order to damage Michelangelo’s reputation. 

A projection of human existential angst, Mona Lisa in the Bathtub is an expression of man's hunger after eating dumpling and sees the world as a composition that reflects the unconscious will of a cosmopolitan villager looking for a ride to a local witch burning jam. One can get a glimpse of Michelangelo’s femininity by studying his interpretation of man's inner skeleton at odds with his non-linear masculine persona. Later in life, Michelangelo confessed that Mona Lisa in the Bathtub not only inspired him to paint his master piece, Mona Lisa, but also encouraged him to shower more frequently, itself a challenge in medieval times.  

In Mona Lisa in the Bathtub we see the desire to use shampoo, yet, the sculptural elements in the painting point to a digestive symbolism that to this day upsets ones inner turmoil as one looks for public bathroom.Therefore, it is not surprising that today’s mediocre exhibitions owe so much to Mona Lisa in the Bathtub’s revolutionary interpretation of form and substance. 

This style of painting, which lacks both form and substance, gave way, later on, to a popular style adopted in the 20^th century called “constipated impressionism”. The main focus of the style is to zoom in on the agony of human condition while constipated during the creative process. As one studies the details of this masterpiece, it is easy to realize why so many modern artists draw inspiration from it as it democratizes art to the point even one with the artistic ability of a four year old can draw on a canvas and sell it to international museums.

Michelangelo's journey as an artist is a journey without a ticket, full of passengers who forgot to use deodorant. The new discovery will undoubtedly become an object of inspiration for countless talentless aspiring artists who will never make it but feel educated enough to talk about art in local cafes. 

Upon reflecting on Mona Lisa in the bathtub, it is hard not to realize that there is not much to reflect on except the desire of one of the most acclaimed artists of human civilization to have a few moments alone in the bathroom, preferably with running water.