Criticism
The ballocks of Mort were dropped from an altitude of three miles directly over Denver, the highest city already, so you can imagine. They fell through wafts and whips of the air to a spot behind Gruesome Hilarity, a patch of lively merchants devoted to importing substances of the widest possible appeal to the citizenry of Denver. As Gruesome Hilarity nodded and minced, displaying many of those habits known to derive from untrammeled pursuit of that which is rightfully latched upon by a mass known as audience, the ballocks of Mort descended into a smaller patch of lavender growing with vegetal aplomb behind Gruesome Hilarity's northmost member, Buford. Only he noticed them, and returning the questioning glance of Becky, questioning because Buford was swathed head to toe in ballock-fill, Buford dismissed the errantry of Mort's parts with shrugs and flicks of the brightest effectiveness, the tautest charm, the gleefullest tongue, and agents of the Museum for Life Happenings marched into him and began snapping off parts of his body, encasing them one by one in the museum's traditional vestiture, velveteen bordered with gentian sea-flesh, gentian-inked sponge, for instance. This was, they explained, because parts of Mort do not often fall from the sky from an altitude of three miles directly into Gruesome Hilarity or anywhere near it, and the fact that this happened and, moreover, Buford was there to receive it with disingenuous greeting, was proof of a link between the work of Baldessari and Christo..