Summarize this satire!
One day … I went to the supermarket to buy some groceries form y wife.
On the way home I stopped at an art gallery where they were holding a pop-art exhibit. Unfortunately, the carton of groceries got heavy, and I left them on the floor. Then, being so moved by what I saw, I Left the gallery and went home. “Where are groceries?” my wife demanded. “Oh, my gosh,” I cried. “I left them at the art gallery.” “Well you’d better get them if you want any supper tonight.” I rushed back to the gallery, but I was too late. The groceries had been awarded first prize in the show. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you,” the gallery owner said. “Why didn’t you sign your work of art?” “It’s not a work of art. It’s my dinner for tonight.” The gallery roared with appreciative laughter.””He’s not only a great sculptor, but he has humour as well,” a judge said. “ You can see that in his work,” another judge added. “ Notice how the bottle of Heinz catsup is leaning against the can of Campbell’s park and beans.” “I’ll never know how he was inspired to put the Ritz crackers on top of the can of Crisco,” a lady said to her escort. “It’s pure genius,” the escort replied. “ Notice the way the Del Monte can of peaches is lying on its side. Even Andy Warhol wouldn’t have gone that far.” “ I think the thing that really won the prize for him was the manner in which he crushed the Sara Lee cheesecake on the bottom of the box.” “ It makes Picasso look sick.” “Look“, I said.”I’m very grateful for all these honours, but my wife is waiting for this stuff, and I have to get it home.” “Get it home?” the gallery owner said amazement. “ I’ve just sold it to that couple over there for 1,500 Dollar.” “The groceries cost me only 18 dollar”, I replied. “ It isn’t the groceries. It’s what you did with them. You have managed to put more meaning into a box of Rinso than Rodin put into ‘The Thinker’. Nobody will ever be able to look at a can of Franco-American spaghetti without thinking of you. You have said with this bag of groceries, in one evening, what Rembrandt tried to say in 1,000 paintings.” I bushed modestly and accepted his check. That night I took my wife out to dinner, and the next day I went back to the supermarket and bought another bag of groceries, much more expensive than the previous ones, which I immediately took to the gallery. But the reviews were lousy. “Success has gone to his head,” said Washington’s leading art critics. “Where once he was able to produce simple jars of cat food and peanut butter in a wild, reckless, I-don’t-give-a-damm manner, he is now serving up elegant cans of mushrooms and mock-turtle soup. “The famous touch is gone and all that is left is a hodgepodge of tasteless groceries.”
