As the intellectuals and sensitive artistes are finding out the hard way, it’s all about the money.

The Boston high-brows are all atwitter in response to the proposed shutdown of the glorious Rose Art Museum at Brandeis University, with the art to be sold like so many Ted Williams-autographed baseballs — and the building turned into a fast-food restaurant or study hall or something.

It’s all about the money. Times are tough; endowment investments are in shambles—which doesn’t leave the university much choice but to take that Jasper Johns stuff and put it on E-bay.

Yes, yes, it’s a nice, if somewhat low-key (“hidden gem,” as they say) museum and how crass it all seems to be contemplating a going-out-of-business sale. Oh, grow up.

When times are tough, you sell off some assets; you don’t fall in love with them.

In response to the howling, Brandeis now says that maybe, just maybe, they’ll keep the art and just shut down the building and redo it as a casino or something. But you just know those paintings are going to be flying out the door to the highest bidder. It’s all about the money.

I’m not disturbed, because I am living proof that great art is all about the money.

Do you think I write these wonderful columns because I like you or something? Heck no, I do it for the money. And I really crank these babies out; I’m not one to sit back and wait for the muse to land on my shoulder. I need the money.

Treasured Past

When I visited the Norman Rockwell house museum and studio in the Berkshires, I was more impressed by the extensive ledger book under glass than by the paint brushes and stuff. Ol’ Norm knew the bank account was more important than the next museum exhibit.

It’s like what the great Samuel Johnson said about all his dictionaries and biographies and stuff: “No man but a blockhead ever wrote, except for money.”

And much like Cohen the Columnist, Sam cranked it out, with visions of dollar signs flickering on his computer screen.

And much like Cohen, Sam occasionally made a few mistakes, because, after all, we’re very, very busy and we’re in a hurry. We do it for the money.

As Johnson put it: “Accuracy cannot reasonably be exacted from a man oppressed with want, which he has no hope of relieving but by a speedy publication.”

You becha. Sure, Cohen occasionally refers to Faneuil Hall, as Nathanial Hall; he needs the money and he’s in a hurry. It’s better to be impoverished and in a hurry and make a few flubs than it is to sell a museum and art and stuff — but the idea is sort of the same.

Time is money; I wouldn’t be surprised if Brandeis has a yard sale in the next few weeks, with a two-for-one deal on the French Impressionists.

How do you think I stay afloat, writing for Banker & Tradesman & PennyPincher newspaper? I write very quickly.

Remember last week’s piece? “Budget tight, Governor slashes spending and taxes. Social workers aghast.” That was the whole column. I was in a hurry; I needed the money. It’s all about the money.

A Fast Buck

Why did state Sen. Diane Wilkerson take bribe money and stick it in her bra? She both needed the money and, apparently, she was in a hurry. I understand.

The complicating factor in the Brandeis museum case is that the financial problems of the university aren’t directly related to the museum.

It’s sort of like being mad at the boss, and then going home to kick the puppy.

But, assets are assets. What could be easier to spin off than an art museum? You can’t auction off the philosophy department. The other option would have been to launch a hostile takeover of the New Bedford Whaling Museum, which broke all sorts of attendance-fee records last year, even in the absence of a de Kooning depiction of a whale.

No more stalling. Put an abstract expressionist “For Sale” sign on the front lawn of the Rose Art Museum and be done with it.

NOTE TO EDITOR: PAY ME FOR THIS COLUMN. NOW.