The Day I Wished I Didn't Believe in Santa

Word to the wise, when a museum claims to have the most shocking art in America, it might not be kidding.

A few years back, while I was still cruising the US with my nerd posse (the University of Florida academic team), we made a journey to New York (well Upper Montclair, New Jersey, but no good stories involve Upper Montclair). We had won the Southeast region for like the fifth year in a row or something, further asserting our dominance over the Florida, Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, South Carolina region. We basically were assuming victory, so it was good that we won, otherwise Hari Kari would be in order, as it was New York or bust (well New York or our advisor who was counting on a trip to see her friend there would kill us).

All-in-all the journey was relatively uneventful. We only spent one day in Manhattan, going to the Met, the Empire State Building, Grand Central Station, and the New York Public Library. As the day started to close, the haves and have nots split. I'm always looking for good cheap fun, even if I have the cash, so I went with the have nots (Jeckle and Hyde at $100 a pop just didn't do it for me). We had a decent dinner at some hole in the wall in the Greenwich Village and were gonna go to the Whitney Museum, which was free on Thursday nights (I guess someone didn't believe in "Must See TV"). The exhibit of the moment was the most shocking art in America. I can't recall what all was there because the one thing I do remember scarred neighboring synapses beyond repair.

Now for those of you who don't quite know me yet, nothing really is shocking to me. It's not that I don't enjoy seeing new things, but I guess I'm prepared for just about anything. That was until I walked into a room with a large set, surrounded by way too many TVs showing a video that was filmed on that set. I guess it was an odd sort of performance art, well odd if you view Santa getting ass-raped by people in reindeer costumes as odd. If that isn't odd, watching people roll around in shit might push you over the edge, and if watching folks defecate in one-anothers mouth may doesn't the trick, then you are the odd one. The TVs managed to show the whole affair from different angles over and over. It made watching Caligula feel like the Teletubbies. My teammate Alex, he himself hard to shock had to go outside and smoke a cigarette.

Now when I leave cookies and milk out for Santa and carrots out for his reindeer, I leave behind condoms, wet wipes, and some Oust for the smell.