The Duomo I've succumbed to exacting revenge on the Roman Empire by defacing the renaissance of its glory, via... well...the Rennaissance (I mean, the works of art). In it's birthplace, Florence.
Santa Maria Novella greeted me off the train station; Draped in accent light, the 13th-century church might have looked intimidating, but it stood tired and defeated; I never looked back.
At the Uffizi Gallery, Palazzo Vecchio in the background
But seeing how bad the artists were (sure, they can paint faces, trees, animals...but they have laughable command of depth perception and other perpectives), I held back my destructive tendency; left the works alone as lasting sources of ridicule.
But not so with Da Vinci: witness his Annunciation, its consideration for three spatial coordinates, sense of depth, parallel lines...and the forgivable Birth of Venus by Botticelli. Aaaaaah! They're behind glass partitions with motion sensors and hidden deterrents I didn't want to discover!
Deflated after this new setback, I chanced upon this impressive photo op in the distance---the Duomo in restoration... 
...looking like the Death Star from one of the more recent epics of empire-building, re-inspiring my quest to colonize (I cried after Star Wars. Because the Empire lost).
To the Accademia then, newly-enthused, armed with my sculpture-shoving technique, and waiving my previously-arranged reservation (else risk no entry or lose momentum waiting in line). I rushed to topple Michelangelo's David....nothing. I was under-powered; I was weak. Or perhaps shocked and awed by its marbled presence, all 17 feet of him, towering in graceful defiance, weakening my knees, stealing my will.
I woke up cold and wet, below the Ponte Vecchio, glad I was disposed into the Arno, not the Med.
Dejected, I welcomed a side trip. As it was that my raiding party is half women, it was natural to go high-end shopping 'round Via Strozzi. Outlets teem past Florence's city limits: Burberry, Ferragamo and Gucci in Leccio; a big Prada "warehouse" in M0ntivarchi, et al.
Driving proved easy; the Autostrada may cost a Euro every half-hour, but speed limits are second only to the Autobahn, so I stepped on it.
Armed with a speed buggy, I diverted to Pisa not two hours to the left coast...
Pisa
My car proved useful for parking rather than ramming, conveniently just within site of the tour de grace:
The Dvomo and Tower of Pisa
Dumb architect! I'll save him the perpetual dishonor by obliging gravity. Just one good heave to the right, I thought
But for reasons unexplained, sightseers opposed me in cheerful resistance...
...eh????
I stole across the piazza, focused my energy on the Baptistry before anyone noticed, and tilted it into eternity:
Ask me if anyone noticed. Really. Ask me.
One last design for reprisal: Feet flat, facing the Duomo wall, tinkling merrily...but in futility: the Tuscan rain has come early.
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