Kitsch up

All right, before we start, it’s only fair that we set some standards.

Yeah, I know. That’s going to upset quite a few of you. But, hey … I’m just being practical, OK? I mean, it’s pretty obvious that a whole lot of folks out there – mostly congressional representatives – aren’t familiar with the concept, but generally speaking it’s a necessity.

So here, right at the beginning, I’m laying down two embarrassingly minimal value judgments on which this little dissertation depends:

There are museums … and then there are you·see·ums.

Under the first classification fall such indisputable giants as, say, New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art or the city’s equally respected American Museum of Natural History. As for the second assemblage, into its bottomless depths spill a panoply of humble roadside attractions on which, in my usual collapse of good taste, I have chosen to focus instead.

I’m talking about places like the Museum of Bad Art in Massachusetts, a very real repository of kitsch where the term ‘brush stroke’ often refers to something the artist experienced while he was painting. Or the International Cryptozoology Museum in Maine, which takes visitors on a tour of mythical life forms such as Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster and U.S. presidents with approval ratings higher than 39 percent.

And of course there is the famed Museum of Death in Louisiana, wherein tourists can have a rollicking good time rummaging through crime scene photos, letters from serial killers and lively funeral memorabilia … although that probably isn’t the right adjective to use.

The truth is, similarly folksy you·see·ums – from the world’s biggest ball of twine to back-country shacks where gravity supposedly doesn’t apply – are sprinkled like cupcake candy all across the American landscape. In fact, I’m guessing it’s pretty much a certainty that just about everybody has pulled off the highway at least once and coughed up five bucks to see a three-headed goat. If you haven’t and you’re interested, I’ve got one in my backyard.

The thing is, I think we could use more of them – wacky museums, not goats – if for nothing else than to distract ourselves more thoroughly from the daily insanity that gushes out of the U.S. capital and winds up dripping down our TV screens. So, in my usual helpful way, I’ve compiled a list of almost-museums I’d like to see. You know – just to give budding entrepreneurs something to think about. Let’s begin with the amazing …

American Museum of Booger Walls  •  As I recall, anyone interested in funding this sure-fire startup might be able to locate some vintage exhibits in the vacation sleeping quarters of my childhood friend Lester, who, out of supposed deference to his visiting guest, smirkingly granted me access to his more comfortable bed.

Moving thence to …

The Great American Gallery of Mannequin Hands  •  Lefties, righties, six-fingered mutants … all twisted into graceful poses evoking a range of easily interpretable emotions. Is she motioning to a lover to come closer, or is she reaching out in sublime supplication to a higher power? Or maybe she’s just asking for her paycheck. The story lines are limited only by your own imagination.

On to …

The International Collection of Broken Mobiles  •  Room after colorful room of mobiles that used to work. Dangling geometric shapes that refuse to respond even to hurricane-force winds. Starlings in silhouetted flight kept in perfect balance by socket wrenches hanging where Blue Birds used to be. Some displays even lying in artful piles on the floor. (Signed liability release forms required)

And finally …

The National Treasury of American Air  •  The nice thing about this one is, you don’t even have to pull off the road. Just roll down the window. A warning, though. Some of the exhibits actually stink.