The Moomins likes African art, which is fine. She’s from Africa and she’s entitled to like whatever she wants. (I do not, by the way, tend towards African art in general. It’s not persnickety and perfection-oriented enough for me. I lean more towards Asian art, specifically Japanese. But I digress.) Normally I tolerate the fact that her house is filled with odd figurines that look at me funny in the night and weird bowls with jacked-up-looking animals painted on them. However, on her last trip she returned with a sculpture that is not okay. She can have whatever wacky art she wants but this is just gross and my father and I are perpetually creeped out by it. And OF COURSE she insists on it being displayed right above the television where it’s in your face and you cannot escape its horror. Let me clue you in. It’s a clay sculpture, about ten inches tall of a goat standing upright like a man. A goat whose front is covered with leopard-print boobs that birds are drinking from. The feet are pig snouts and birds are eating from them as well. You with me so far?

That’s all fine, sort of. Until you turn the sculpture around and WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE OH MY GOD GET IT AWAY FROM ME.

Why? Why, Mom? At one point she attempted to explain how it represents the artist’s rage at his treatment, blah blah blah, but all I could think of was a bunch of birds chowing down on the poop coming out of a goat’s ass and I couldn’t hear anything else she said. I would simply break it “unintentionally” but it’s expensive and The Moomins would be so sad, I can’t bring myself to do it. Now my father and I are stuck watching TV with this atrocity grinning down on us. But The Moomins is happy, so I guess that’s all that matters. And I don’t live there. That helps.

10/17/2013 Addendum: She broke it! She was cleaning it and it broke! It’s an early Christmas miracle. I’m so happy.

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