It’s not often that I get a flood of emails but during the past week I received just that. (For those pondering what constitutes a “flood” here, it’s five. Beat that, Drudge!) All thanks to this Jezebel post on belly art and this one. A few of the highlights:
Presumably, those who sent me the items on belly art thought they’d be releasing the hounds. “I’ll send the Bird this ridiculousness and wait for her to unleash her scorn,” they figured. But when I look at this I see young women merely interested in passing on to their offspring their love for drug-referencing cartoon characters, sub-par baseball teams, and undersea exploration (and public displays of mismatched underwear) through the majesty of art. No, judge not these women as Twinkie-cream-for-brains harbingers of the apocalypse with their flagrantly bared “look at meeeee!” bellies smeared with toxic paints leaching into their bloodstream and further loosening their mental underpinnings. They are today’s young patronesses of the arts! Huzzah I say, huzzah! As such, even the Bird has decided to let down her hair and have a little fun.
Oh wait. No she hasn’t. This is as close as I’m getting to “belly art.” Little nipper better understand the significance of Toulouse-Lautrec’s rapid work style and visible brushstrokes by the time she arrives.