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Introduction
Welcome to the Sheboygan Art Museum Parking Gallery, which --
thanks to zoning bylaws imposed by our brilliant city councilors who believed a
"park" was better than "parking" -- is located in an otherwise empty
field a scant five miles from our main campus. |
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| Simply follow this lovely scenic trail along the
river, over the bridge, through the swamp, past the mostly-abandoned rendering plant,
across the train tracks and around the industrial section, and you're here! In inclement weather, we invite you to use our free shuttle service which
runs every Tuesday from 1:00PM until 2:00PM, as long as our janitor is sober enough to
start the VW Microbus. No tips please, as the janitor will just use them to buy beer or
smelly cheeses. Please note that this is a one-way service, as our dear caretaker has a
profound phobia of turning left, thus forcing the curator to return the bus on his way to
the grocery Monday evenings. This assumes, of course, that he hasn't sold the carburetor
out of the bus again. |
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The Exhibits
Each lamp pole, thrusting phallus-like into the stratosphere, is
a metaphor for man's striving for enlightenment and (wait for it) illumination.
To help offset the costs of maintaining these joyous symbols of
higher learning (the bulbs burn out, you fools! They BURN OUT!), we are offering lamp
sponsorships in our gift shop. Up to four sponsorships -- one for each cardinal direction
of the compass -- are available per lamppost, with the northern side being a tad cheaper
because it tends to moss up in damp weather. |
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The yellow lines symbolize the rigid boundaries imposed by
society's mores. They dare the observer to violate their authoritarian order, thus
inviting chaos. As a result, we are not responsible for paint scratches or fender damage. |
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| The pavement serves as a strong foundation for all
of Man's endeavors. The dark, sticky tar of Sin pulls Man (and we mean "Man" in
the all-encompassing sense, so save your anti-sexist eco-feminist politically-correct
rants for the museum cafeteria where they belong) down into the mire, yet simultaneously
supports him, and elevates him above the muddy murk below. It gets a bit soft in hot
weather, so mind your shoes, and don't blame us for the shoddy work. That's what you get
when you tender out a job and discover the "best" bid was submitted by the
curator's brother-in-law from Madison, despite the fact that he's a roofer by trade and
couldn't pave his way out of a cardboard box. |
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| The curbstones don't symbolize anything, actually.
They're there to bash up the underside of the front end of your car if you don't stop in
time, especially if you've got those expensive air dams and whatnot. They also do a lovely
job of trashing the snowblower when the janitor stumbles into them whilst clearing the
lot. |
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The odd wooden structure was left behind by the
movers when they brought in our "Egypt: A Bunch of Odd Stone Bits and Too Much Bloody
Old Trash Wrapped in Bandages" exhibit. Due to a minor dispute over who was supposed
to buy breakfast, they refused to haul it away. We use it to store tomatoes. |
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