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.

resident Bush stated Sunday that he wished everyone was into Tool as much as he is. Though he did not name names, the president implied everyone surrounding him, from his wife Laura Bush to Secretary of State Colin Powell, did not enjoy the hard rock band on the same level he does.

"I mean, they 'like' Tool and all," stated the president, "but it's just not the same. They like Tool like they won't turn them off if they're on the radio or something. I like Tool like I want to put in the CD and jam, you know, to sing along to all the songs, even the ones most people don't know. I know all their albums and who played on each song by heart. Nobody I know likes Tool like that, nobody."

Attorney General John Ashcroft confirmed the president's feelings.

"Tool's not bad, I'm not saying that. It's just… I don't know, I'm not into it at all, really. Not too hard for me or nothing, I don't think, I just prefer other kinds of stuff. If I want to listen to something heavy I usually go for Rammstein or stuff like that. Most of the time I just listen to Creed. I like Creed and nobody around here does. You don't see me flipping out and whining about it."

The president, a reported Tool fan since his days as Governor of Texas when the band released Aenima, has tried since then to get everybody into Tool, from South African president Nelson Mandella to his daughters.

"Bar's into that really gay new country and Jenna just likes Jimmy Buffett. I swear, I don't know whose kids they are, but they didn't get that from me," said the president.

Unable to share his love for the band with surrounding friends, family members, and staff, the president has turned to Tool message boards and chat rooms, where his login name is usually Prisonsex2000.

"This guy the other day wouldn't shut up about 'Sober,' like it's their best song ever and, man, it was just so clear this guy was a newbie. Me and the other fans at toolbox.com were just all straight-faced, like, 'Yeah, man, that's sure 'nuff it!' I mean, don't get me wrong, 'Sober' kicks ass, no one will say it doesn't, but no one who's a Tool fan needs to be told that, right?"

Tool has been instrumental in Bush's life since he discovered them as Governor of Texas. He even credits his decision to run for president because of his love for hard rock music, stating to several press groups in 1992 that America could do better than a Fleetwood Mac fan as president.

The situation has darkened, good people. Frequent readers of my column, and despite what everyone says I'm convinced they exist, will remember my recent revelation that I was a pro-wrestler briefly in the '80s. To my surprise, everyone has been extremely warm and receptive about it. I mean, I haven't heard anyone approving of my lifestyle or remarking how brave it was to come out and admit it, but it is pro-wrestling, a little resistance and unspoken prejudice can be expected. Either that or none of them have read any of my columns.

But not everyone has been so accepting. As I discovered Thursday night when I came home and found a note pinned to my door.

It was a hand-scrawled note with sloppy penmanship and spelling. But I knew all-too well who it was from and what it was about. It read:

"Finger! So yur the 4-Feet Nitemare. Yu turd. I new Id find yu sonir or laytir. Im a kill yu like I wud have kild yu then. Yu run away cowird. – MD"

At first I suspected my family physician, Dr. Scrudd. But then I remembered seeing his handwriting on countless prescriptions and it didn't match at all; Scrudd's pen is blue, this one is black. Finally, after hours of meditating, falling asleep, waking up again to start meditating once more, I realized who my anonymous adversary is.

The Masked Dude has come back for revenge.

When I discussed my pro-wrestling secret life, I left out a lot of details so as not to gross out the general public who is uncomfortable with such information. But one important bit that needed mentioning was my furious antagonist, The Masked Dude. He was five-foot tall, the second-shortest wrestler in the Dandies of America league I was part of, and had a severe complex about it. He was remarkable for many reasons: His glittering sequined spandex pants, his red glossy boots, his hairless, flabby mid-section, and his match record of never having won once.

Usually The Masked Dude was hopelessly overpowered by his opponents. Some of them reaching heights of up to 5'11", with vicious names like The Vicious Scrunch and Eddie "Pin Them Drunk" Vicious, The Masked Dude soon proved to be a laughingstock of the D.O.A., which was already the laughingstock of wrestling fans everywhere, who are the laughingstock of the rest of us, so you can imagine the shame. The Masked Dude was intent on gaining respect, and I soon provided the best possibility of winning a match.

I was a good wrestler. Good? Hell, I was possibly the best God ever created. Really? Thank you, that's sweet. But for all of my talent my winning record was frequently fifty-fifty, meaning I won half my matches and half of that was won by deceitful tendencies. I was merely making up for a game that was stacked against me, me being short and not that good at wrestling the way they wanted to do it. But actual statistical match records were the lowest in the league, next to The Masked Dude. He sought me out obsessively, and thus started our rivalry. I thought it ended when I hung up my tights, sniffed them curiously, then threw them away for good. But apparently not.

I have to admit I'm a little worried. I don't know when and from where and at what time The Masked Dude is coming after me. I assume he's reading this column, since he's the only one who's mentioned my former pro-wrestler status, and I hope to implore him to let bygones be bygones and blowguns be blowguns, to put the past behind us and start anew as friends who share a common history.

But don't mistake this as fear or cowardice, Masked Dude. I will put the smack down on you wicked if you want to get shitty with me.

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