Michelangelo's Magna Doodle Discovered

Magna Doodle drawing determined to have been done by Michelangelo himself may be worth between $12 million and a kajillion dollars, according to students at Art Lowenstein's School of Art Appraisal in Hoboken, NJ. The doodle was unearthed among assorted art-related toys from the Renaissance period in what used to be a child's rumpus room, according to officials at the Cooper-Hewitt National Design Museum in New York. The unsigned doodle is of a half-man, half-bear — some call it a Manimal — standing on a three-dimensional see-through box, beneath a sky filled with different-sized eyes and concentric triangles, according to officials. The Manimal has a river of snakes flowing somehow magically out of his armpit, and the single word "Gwyneth" is scrawled mysteriously near the border between several squiggles. Experts place the time of the doodling in the mid-1500s, making it one of the oldest Magna Doodlings on record.

The Magna Doodle was plucked from a chest of toys in the museum's coatroom, formerly a child's rumpus room when the museum was home to a family of Austrian squatters in the late 1800's. Such a discovery is considered to be "a fucking mind-blower," Cooper-Hewitt Director Paul Thompson said in a telephone interview. "I didn't even know they made those things back then."

The Magna Doodle was found in a chest of toys that also included a Magnetic Wonder Whiskers toy that may have belonged to Michelangelo, and an unidentified drawing toy that involved using a solid plastic pencil to draw on a sheet of static cling film that was erased when you peeled the sheet away from the backing, Thompson said.

The museum, part of the Washington-based Smithsonian Institution, purchased the Magna Doodle within a group of five magnetic art toys in 1842, for $1. The purchase was ridiculed by some at the time, but honored as it fulfilled the wishes of then-Director Hyram McWinter, who often said "If it's artsy, I want it." By often we mean like every five minutes, it drove people crazy.

Museum scholars guessed the work might have been done by a 16th century magnetic artist Benny del Bacon, who often fobbed off his doodles on the art community of that day as "pre-surrealist deconstructionalism." Somehow it got into the wrong box and was almost sold at a museum garage sale, only to be saved by a demanding child who lived in the Cooper-Hewitt at the time.

"It's the old cliche: Renaissance master doodles a masterpiece on a child's magnetic toy, museum buys it on accident and almost sells it for nothing before snotty little Austrian kid steals it off the nickel table and hides it in his toy chest for 100 years," Thompson said.

It was first identified as a Michelangelo in April by Sir Clifford Buford, director of the National Galleries of Scotland or something, during an unauthorized surprise inspection of the Cooper-Hewitt. Buford, an Italian Renaissance scholar and air hockey freak, was rummaging around the coatroom of the design museum looking for a nice umbrella when he came across a toy chest simply labeled "Piss Off." One particular toy inside the chest caught his eye. 'My Crap, this is a Michelangelo!"' he exclaimed, not anticipating being quoted later.

While the experts agree on the artist, there is no agreement on how the doodle fits into the larger body of Michelangelo's work.

The Manimal's genitalia is only inferred, but the doodle clearly shows where they should go, said Sarah Lawrence, the museum's expert on the Italian Renaissance magnet-based arts. However, a cat doodled in the background features an alarmingly oversized penis, raising questions about Michelangelo's state of mind at the time of the doodling.

"You recognize a Michelangelo as you recognize a friend," Buford said by courier fox from Florence. "If you're familiar with a friend, and you're walking down the street, you wave to them. They may wave back, or they may duck into a shop to avoid being seen with you on the street. I rather think Michelangelo's doodle waved back. Either that, or these things here are ass cheeks; probably this Gwyneth person's. Though I'd always heard he was gay."

The Magna Doodle will go on display at the Cooper-Hewitt museum in about a year, next to a wild scratch-paper doodle Picasso did while on the phone with his mother, Thompson said.

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Don't get me started, Shorty. You know exactly how I feel about them McEnroys across the gully. A fouler people there never was burped up onto the earth, and that's one scientific fact. When I was in shorty-pants my daddy told me about them McEnroys, givin' in me the good sense to hate them as does all God's green creatures. And dang did daddy hate them McEnroys. Like his daddy afore him and so on and so what back to the day when grand-grandpa Peter done stepped right in a big dollop of moose puddin' that grand-grandpa McEnroy did left on his porch as a early-mornin' prank of sorts. But this was one of them pranks that was destine not to get no laughs, 'cause grand-grandpa Peter was wearin' the new toot-boots he just got for Christmas a few days afore, the ones with the lyrics to "Sweet Mona May" embroidered around the back. You seen them boots Shorty, an I don't need to tell you how they was shamefully ruint. Dang if that wasn't one o' them tragedies o' bible-belt proportions.

And so it done started that my family always hate them McEnroys, and them McEnroys ain't none too fond on us, neither. As you would expect from a McEnroy, them bein' no higher than snake's ass draggin' on the asphalt. Over the years this county has seen quite a feud, with plenty o' moose puddin' left strategicaldy here an there. It's been a feud that claimed more than a few lives isself, too, like the time Bobby Mo and Steefie was blowed up tryin' to make an atom bomb out from pig dung an gasoline, for what to blow up the McEnroy trailer an above-ground hot tub.

You know as well as anyone, Shorty, that I myself have had my own share o' close calls with that McEnroy clan. Remember the time a few winters back when we found that gopher done froze up solid in the ditch, and we build that catapult out from underwear elastic to shoot that frozed critter up onto the roof o' the McEnroy trailer? To this day I still think that was the best idea you ever had, Shorty. Sometimes when I've got trouble sleepin' I like to lay awake an think o' what it woulda been like if it had worked, an that critter woulda thawed in the springtime an created a powerful stink up there on that roof, an them McEnroys woulda just thought it was they own foul behinds makin' the stink. An I don't care not what nobody says, Shorty, neither o' us had any way from knowin' that icy critter was gonna come crashing down through the McEnroy roof and break botha grandma McEnroy's legs while she was sittin' there watchin' the $25,000 Pyramid.

Nobody who's not a liar can prove it was me who did put that greased pig in the McEnroy's station wagon last summer, though I will admit to laughin' the hardest when we was watchin' them try to get that pissed-off squealer to come on out o' the car. Some have said that was the best prank pulled on the McEnroys since the time my own daddy snuck in on a moonless night an covered that whole property with mouse traps. That next morning this valley sounded like a good day in Vietnam, Shorty, and a finer day our family has never seen.

Sure, the McEnroys have had they own laughs at our expense, as is to be expected in any proper feud. Like all the times they've had the law on our tails, bringin' charges of assault with a deadly carcass and grand theft of a trailer home and stalkin' or whatnot. I have to say Shorty, them McEnroys got they own style o' feudin'. It's not like a McEnroy to grease your handrail or fill up your outhouse full of locusts. They're much more fond of callin' out the law every time one o' our pranks against them ends up causin' serious property damage or cripplin' the elderly. That's just like a McEnroy, too. Always takin' the high road.

Dang if I don't hate them McEnroys, Shorty. Where's my potato gun?

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Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful princess named Esmerelda and she lived in a beautiful castle high above the kingdom, Buhtkrack, where her father was a sovereign and noble man. How she longed to be married to the stable boy, Noal, for he was a handsome young man, despite his occasional habit of blowing his nose on the heads of old ladies. But her father would not think of his daughter marrying someone so common. She was to be married to the son of King Goanadd, a harsh man who was known about the countryside for beating his horse for no good reason and leaving the seat up, and never, ever, ever, ever washing his own clothes but instead piling them on the floor in apparent hopes they would be miraculously zapped clean by the laundry fairy, and forcing total strangers to for some reason call him "Earl, Conqueror of the Fish." Esmerelda desired Noal more than anyone else in the world, and King Buhtkrack knew of her love for this man, so, despite his gracious nature, he sent for the boy.

"I have a grave and perilous task for you," the king told him. "In the far reaches of the kingdom, there lives a dragon that has slain a great many of our sheep, stolen many of our most beautiful women, and run up Visa card charges in my name. You can choose to go and slay this dragon, bestowing upon you the gratitude of many gorgeous and attractive single women and bringing nobility to your family name and honor to you and your blood line. Or you can instead clean the disease-ridden, filth-encrusted mortar of the royal bathrooms. I leave you with these choices."

A week later, Noal returned to the king and said, "I have cleaned the bathrooms as you requested my Lord. Now how may I be of service to you?"

So King Buhtkrack once again offered for him to rid the land of the dragon adding that since the last time, the dragon had been making long-distance calls when the rates are really bad and talking for hours and the royal phone service may get cut off. He then offered Noal the options of slaying the dragon or cleaning the stables of every last speck of dung using only his own toothbrush.

A week later, Noal returned yet again, saying to the king, "Pardon my breath, your highness, but I have cleaned the stables using only my toothbrush. Now how may I be of service to you?"

The king became furious and said, "Just go slay the freaking dragon and get the heck out of my life you worthless coward!"

So Noal went forth, and traveled through the dark night on his noble steed, riding fast into the forest in which lived the dragon. He passed through a tiny village mere miles from the dragon's lair when he met a great carriage pulled by magnificent horses. It stopped for him and out stepped Prince Goanadd.

"Hail Prince Goanadd!" Noal said as he fell to his knees in reverence.

"You shall call me, Earl, Conqueror of Fish!" snapped the Prince, as was his way.

"Hail Earl, Conqueror of Fish!" Noal said, still on his knees.

"You have come to slay the dragon, have you not?" the Pri- er, I mean, Earl said.

"Yes, your majesty."

"Know that you will be devoured by its mighty jaws unless you plunge your sword deep into the soft flesh of its belly and kill its evil heart."

"That is disgusting,your Highness!"

"I have told you to call me Earl, Conqueror of the Fish! How hard is it to remember that?! Sheesh! You common people suck!"

"Forgive me Earl," Noal said.

And so Earl rode away and Noal continued his quest. He rode through the night, stopping only once at South of the Border for some playing cards with nude women on them and a picture of himself riding a giant cactus. At long last, he found the opening of the dragon's lair. It was a dark cave, littered with bones of many a maiden.

Fear began to fill Noal, for he knew if the dragon could easily kill an unarmed maiden who had never fought a day in her life and was dainty and petite to a fault, it surely could kill a strong and limber man armed with a large sword and several years of training in hand-to-hand combat. He slowly crept down the dark passage and into the main cavern, where the beast's enormous girth filled the room. It lay, sleeping, its heavy breath shaking the ground. First, Noal went to the maidens, and freed each of them from the heavy ropes the dragon had somehow tied them up with which Noal thought was considerably strange considering this dragon had no real hands or fingers.

"Perhaps he has a maid who ties maidens up for him. I imagine she gets good money for doing that sort of thing. Probably a nice package with EOE certified training and a dental plan and decent bonuses and a 401k. Heck, I might even get into the maiden tying business if the money's right," he said to no one in particular. No one, that is, except the sleeping dragon who awoke to hear some strange man muttering about job benefits.

The dragon reared back its ugly head, and spat fire at Noal who leaped to the safety of a nearby cave that happened to be lined in asbestos. Then, the dragon stood on its hind legs, outstretched its impressive wings, and bellowed forth a frightening shriek unlike anything Noal had ever heard, give for the time he went backstage and heard Black Sabbath tuning their guitars. But then, Noal spied the soft part of the dragon's belly, and quickly he ran forward and jabbed his sword into it.

The dragon said, "Ouch!" and fell over dead.

Noal returned to the kingdom, triumphant and happy that he had finally brought pride to his family name, and a great many beautiful maidens desired to have carnal relations with him. But he choked to death on a poorly chewed piece of meat at the great banquet and the Princess married Prince Goanadd anyway and he turned out to be an all right guy so everyone lived happily ever after.

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