I’m suffering a little from a hangover today and I lay the blame entirely at the feet of the Prado Museum.
The Prado is a world class art gallery in a gorgeous building. But the main thing I learned is that I have a low tolerance for room after room of gruesome paintings of crucifixions and other horrible ways for martyrs to die. Really, it was just not the most uplifting experience of my life.
I quite like art galleries – I love the National Gallery in London – but religious art really is the pits. Pain, suffering, misery, depression, boobs cut off – BOOBS CUT OFF! What were these people thinking? This doesn’t inspire me to love your god at all. He sounds like a right bastard. We had to go to several pubs afterwards to recover properly and now it’s 30 degrees, I have no air conditioning and things hurt, mostly my eyeballs.