“… speaking of golden calves,” the imposing white-locked man took an electronic cigarette inhalation break, “they can nowadays be called dark violet donuts.”
“I see,” the little grey man sitting across from him muttered.
Unperturbed, Whitelocks continued, “I am, of course, referring to an Anish Kapoor art product that might be said to look like a dark violet donut.”
“But where was I before my Kapoor tangent?” Drone went on.
“You were saying…”
“Ah yes: The way art aficionados flock to museums and big-name art shows now can be likened to the dancing around the Golden Calf way back when.”
“When was that?”
“Of course, you could say,” Unstoppable held forth, “that it’s just a relatively small segment of society that does this dancing or flocking.”
Another drag from the nicotine dispenser.
“The time of the Golden Calf?” the meek audience of one tried to get in edgewise.
“But, as I’ve outlined in my essay, published in The World of Contemporary Art, one of the quintessential opinion-making current mags, that small segment comprises the important movers and shakers, be it intellectuals or affluent individuals.”
“The Golden Calf?” the intractable Mr. Meeks chirped.
“The very same people who have always,” puff puff, “always, in the history of mankind, made history.”
“Period!” added the unshakeable Mover and Shaker triumphantly.
This short satirical piece pokes fun at the current art world (by letting a self-proclaimed expert equate it with the biblical golden calf, which stands for false idols), but also at pomposity in general.
Literary forefathers for this type of short prose are Franz Kafka, Peter Altenberg and other Austrian writers I have read.