Mechelangelo would drive the Julius II mechabot towards the utopian city of Sforzinda legs galloping chastely in the magnetic stirrups swimming as a plesiosaur in the graceful humm of the era's almost Minervan Panathenaicus of sacred exoskeletal humanist historiography..
But Mechelangelo was on a mission! Approaching Sforzinda one could see the great Temple of Hairspray with its wretched bobble-head nozzle of Coca-Cola di Rienzo at the apex blasting forth what the priests of the temple took to be a loud and triumphant blast of harmony, but which Mechelangelo took as a "res gestae mediocritas" swaddled in Oswaldian Spenglerisms. Before he burst through the door of the Temple in a frenzy of Virgilian Romanitas, Mechelangelo caused the Julius II mechabot to face the direction of Fall and say a small Raphaelian prayer toward the great lucidity, the great aletheia, toward the Triumph of Eternity: "Has been" "shall be" and "was" exist no more, But "is" and "now," "the present" and "today," "Eternity" alone, one and complete. ... Ding-Dong OOOh! What a lovely costume. Are you a Robot Pope? Hi Miss Paideia. It's supposed to parody humanist notions of perfection. Is that you, Howard? You are such a clever (odd) boy! Yup. Welll? (students..) Trick or Treat! (I love Miss Paideia.)
