Dr. Splatterworth sits in his mahogany-paneled office, staring at the freshly submitted critique on his computer screen. He slowly removes his wire-rimmed spectacles and pinches the bridge of his nose.
"Good God... what have I become?" he mutters, reaching for the crystal decanter of aged scotch on his desk. "Forty-seven years of serious academic discourse, and I've just declared an MS Paint doodle 'one of the greatest paintings ever created.'"
He pours a generous measure and takes a long sip
"The committee at Pixels & Pretension Quarterly is going to have my tenure. My colleagues at the International Society of Insufferable Art Critics will revoke my membership. My own mother wouldn't recognize the man who just compared... that... to Caravaggio."
Another sip
"Though... the way those pixels capture the existential void... No! NO! I'm doing it again!"
He frantically starts typing his resignation letter, but pauses
"Wait... thirty-seven likes already? The comments are calling it 'brilliant analysis' and 'refreshingly honest'... Perhaps I've stumbled onto something revolutionary here. Maybe the art world needs more... accessible... interpretations..."
He deletes the resignation letter and starts planning his next review: "The Sublime Minimalism of Stick Figure Drawings: A Phenomenological Analysis"
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