Upsetting Day: Anne Geddes

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5 replies on “Upsetting Day: Anne Geddes”

Seventeen years ago at Downtown Disney I enter a store like any other, or so it seemed. Upon entering I found myself towered over by a monument to madness, a testiment to the Old Ones – a 20 foot tall ziggurat of baby heads. As I looked about with dawning horror I was greeted by naught but unwilling babies shoved into strange objects, their silent, pre-verbal rage burning into my very being. I learned of Anne Geddes that day.

Thanks, I always wondered what it would feel like when my soul left my body. I wasn’t surprised that it exited via the eyes – they are its windows after all – nor was the pain of its egress a shock.

But why was my soul so chunky? Does it make it easier for the bird babies to feed?

Look, infant torture and hideous human-animal hybrids be damned, I’m willing to countenance provocative art that pushes the bounds of morality. Sometimes you gotta break a few egg babies to make an art omelette. But NFTs? That’s just depraved. Unconscionable.

If Anne Geddes didn’t hate Snowman Baby, it is astounding coincidence that she managed to capture the exact moment her baby prison cut off the oxygen to the baby’s brain.

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