The Infiltration.
I form a crack team of sly, adventurous larceny specialists. We scan the news reports and websites and speech transcripts. We identify every businessperson, every politician, every administrator, every idle Randian trust-fundie who supports in voice and financial contribution the devaluation of arts education and appreciation from all walks of life.
We break into their homes. We steal all of the paintings and sculptures. We steal the music, the books, the DVDs. We install a jamming device on their television and internet. We steal the sporting equipment. We steal their furniture and their clothing. We paint the walls a dull white and we file down the crown moulding to square stumps. Everything that required a designer’s eye and an aesthetic sense is removed. Their iPhones and kitchen appliances. The mosaic floor tile. The crystal doorknobs and drapery.
We leave behind a note. The note says that because we are generous we left behind the walls and roof of the house itself even though the structure also required a keenly developed talent for artistry. We warn the target that next time we will take it apart beam by beam and brick by brick, then use the materials to create a spare, concrete cube in which they may sleep and eat only those foods packaged in plain metal cans.
“We are necessary,” the note concludes. “You do not need us to live but we make life worth living.”
“Sincerely Yours.”
“The Art Majors.”
Creative Control 