broken lizard

So a couple of years ago, Annie and I took a class on Michelangelo together called Michelangelo and The Something-or-Other. Or The Something-or-Other of Michelangelo. I couldn't tell you for sure - I didn't exactly take that much away from the class. Our professor was adorably Dutch and enviably well-educated, but his lectures were rambling and unfocused, punctuated with sudden bursts of rapid-fire Italian or dire pronouncements along the lines of "Michelangelo, he was a gay, you know."

I do remember a few things, though. I remember being warned about Albanians. I remember needing a great deal of Nicorette to make it through the day. I remember quite liking the Pietà.

And I remember this: LIZARD = DEATH. Which was written, just as you see here, on the chalkboard when we walked into class one day.

At that point in my life, I'd only known Annie for a matter of weeks. And yet, as soon as our professor began explaining to us exactly why the reptile subset in question was so tainted with mortal peril, I knew with absolute certainty that she was about to deliver a good, swift kick to the man's intellectual nads.

She did. And it was glorious.

But not so glorious by half as her most recent art-historical smack-down, which everyone should read because it is very smart and very funny and very apropos. Anything that combines Disneyworld, The Da Vinci Code, and unicorns is very much worth reading.

And you don't even have to sit through a three-hour lecture to do so.