Wednesday, October 28, 2015
This painting was my attempt to make a copy of Vincent's "Wheat field With Crows," for a "Forgery Art Show" here on the Island a few years ago. The accompanying poem references Wallace Steven's "13 Ways of Looking at a Black bird."
13 Other Ways Of Looking At a Black Bird. Daniel Imburgia (Way one: Through Vincent's Wheat Field with Crows)
The crow as knowing
Growing in the sky-scape
Racing the storm among
Double moon swarms
Only these crows can testify
To why Vincent was murdered
In a wheat-field where miraculously
Un-healed he survived
Wounded by lead-gray grieving
Bleeding Cochineal lake
Vermillion contrasted against
Vandyck brown and smalt viridian
Invisible to all but he
Three advents direct his fall
Cawed by the 57 black birds
Inscribed in his final canvas
Experts accuse the Jesuit crows
Rose in fear and fled from
Vincent as he erected his
Easel and gauged perspective
But hearing the shot and cry
Why would darkness flee
He whose deprivation and lack
Exposed only more mystery
Field, sky, birds, roads,
Chose this pilgrim pigment
Instead of chrome stars Umber
Gashes in murderous constellations
Rising ochred tears of grain
Strain to fly among the swirl of
Blue rosettes without a why
Bend, break, fall, and die
The sower scattering his seed
Heeds the internal coming to be
Shakes each kernel from its husk
Un-forsaken by eternity
The work of being world and making
Breaking earth in old peasant's shoes
The slow bleeding-out day to day
Unconcealing our mortal clay
Come we have upon the altar
Slaughter, bread, psalter
Cowled priests and bells
Spells, water, wine, blood
Conjured winged tricksters rise
Disguised from his unrepentant palette
Spectres snatching tatters and dregs
God's self-portrait hued by saudade
The artist seeks with naked heart
Not apart but inhabiting the wheat-field
A scare-crow clothed with scraps
Of grace and ragged love
Blessings and obliged.
Sunday, September 27, 2015
Before Pope Francis there was another and I wrote this poem for him…and Bella. Benedetto XVI once wrote, "In the end, even the "yes" of Love is a source of suffering--love always requires that I allow myself to be wounded otherwise it ceases to be love." Those are hard words for me to embrace right now, except for grace.
#1. The Agony in the Garden
Benedetto tallies his rosary alone as
Fall shadows the single window
Where light escapes over the Leonine walls
Shoe-less Sisters have left tea and schnapps
Beside a phone that no longer rings
#2. The Scourging at the Pillar
Flushed Cardinals once bobbed their beaks
In and out of feeders near his cell
But the old man no longer chases away
The black crows who rob their seed and
Steal their chicks
#3. The Crowning with Thorns
Once there was a young woman in Schulstraße
Who tormented him with night-sweats and doubt
But she did not survive the war and his
Cloistered loins never burned for another though
Her body was never found
#4. The Carrying of the Cross
Mozart has finished his quintet but
the old priest is so deep in prayer with
The Virgin Mother
Just a single eye cracks when
Purring Bella claws into his lap
#5. The Crucifixion and Death
Only the boisterous cheers and applause
Carried by the wind from
The far side of Vatican hill
Cause his fingers to forget their place
Among the five sorrowful mysteries
|Outside my studio/shed|
"The world is divided between capitalism and fundamentalism – in other words, between those who believe too little and those who believe too much." (Zizek).
“All paradises, all utopias are designed by who is not there, by the people who are not allowed in." (Toni Morrison)
* I am making a list of all my beliefs that I would be willing to spend 5 days in jail for as my staunch sister Kim Davis in Kentucky did. So far its a very short list.
* Not that anybody in the debates asked for his birth certificate, but I believe that #2 Presidential candidate Ben Carson was born in Detroit to Seventh-Day Adventist parents. (wiki)
*I'm so over self-validating, closed-circuit systems of mutually reinforcing assumptions and their apologetics that ever more deeply beg the question, and the mental/emotional knots they tie folks up in." (David Fetcho)
* Roman Catholic politicians of all kinds may disagree, but I'm not sure that Pope Francis is entirely on board with the historical religious project of converting or killing all heretics, infidels, and unbelievers. Interestingly, it seem that others are willing to take up the challenge? Well, God never closes a door without opening……
* ''Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back.'' (J)
* “Prayer holds together the shattered fragments of creation. It makes history possible.” (Jacques Ellul )
*Sometimes, no matter how often or loudly or how much apparent love, grace, and forgiveness, I proclaim, my own prayers still seem boil down to, "Lord, smite my enemies." Fortunately, I am my own worst enemy.
* “When you live in the dark for so long, you begin to love it. And it loves you back, and isn’t that the point? You think, the face turns to the shadows, and just as well. It accepts, it heals, it allows. But it also devours.” (Raymond Carver)
* “Nothing true can be said about God from a posture of defense.” (Marilynne Robinson)
*We know that the Jews were prohibited from investigating the future. The Torah and the prayers instruct them in remembrance, however. This stripped the future of its magic, to which all those succumb who turn to the soothsayers for enlightenment. This did not imply, however, that for the Jews the future turned into homogeneous empty time. For every second of time was the strait gate through which the Messiah might enter." (Walter Benjamin)
“Rats and roaches live by competition under the law of supply and demand; it is the privilege of human beings to live under the laws of justice and mercy.” (Wendell Berry)
* "And that work of liberation is not *glorification* of the self, but rather a kind of social freedom for the continual and persistent resistance against other lords." (prof. Ry Siggelkow)
** “What is honor compared to a woman's love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms or the memory of a brother's smile? Wind and words. Wind and words. We are only human, and gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy.” (George R.R. Martin)
* Forgiveness loves the past with hope—rather than with desire—that it will not in the end have been simply what it was." (prof. Craig Keen)
I have seen enough death to know that dying isn’t just dying. There are a million ways to die and live. Jesus has the one. We have our million." (prof. Anne Michelle Carpenter).
* "So awestruck were we, by the falling stars, that we never noticed that the world was burning. And as the smoke filled our throats, our final words — we spoke without knowing we would forever after be silent — were ‘thank you’. Then we too were burning. With the plants, with the oceans, with the animals,we were all of us burning. Our lungs blossoming into flowers; the fire in our bones at last released to join the fire in the earth, in the air, on the water." (Dan MzacKenzie)
"Light has come into the world, and the darkness will never overcome it." (J)
Blessings, and very much obliged.
Sunday, September 13, 2015
"Momma they shot me."
99 days ago Tywanza Sanders died in his Mother's arms in the Charleston church massacre. I witnessed his mother Felicia Sanders on video this morning praying God's Grace and mercy for all her son's killers. I had already forgotten about her with so much else going on in the news. I don't really believe in Jesus, not like Felicia does, not yet. But I stifled the rage and hate that inhabits my inconsistent heart and I prayed with her--that is to say, I silently mouthed the words; 'forgive them.' Sometimes I wonder how God mourns. So like many others before me have done, I brought my wounds and prayers to Jerusalem and wept upon the marble Stone of Unction where Jesus mangled body was prepared for burial. The ancient marble slab at the entrance to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher is now half worn away by all the tears and kisses of the centuries of mourners. Some believe that when our sorrow and grief have melted that stone completely away, then Jesus will return and gather all those redeemed tears into a New World. I pray it may be so. I pray that we don't just replace the stone.
Mother; Felicia, forgive me.
Late Gothic Pieta from Lubiąż in Lower Silesia, Poland.
Tuesday, September 8, 2015
|Over Whidbey Island towards Mt. Tahoma.|
Got to do some cloud watching. I thought I saw Pak-Man gobbling the sun, some others saw an elephant or polar bear upper right; but someone else saw that rock monster from The Hobbit decomposing below the sun. A bit of an argument broke out….I'm not sure how to tell who won or lost? Maybe its like Grace?
Czeslaw Milosz wrote that, "When someone is honestly 55% right, that’s very good and there’s no use wrangling. And if someone is 60% right, it’s wonderful, it’s great luck, and let him thank God. But what’s to be said about 75% right? Wise people say this is suspicious. Well, and what about 100% right? Whoever say he’s 100% right is a fanatic, a thug, and the worst kind of rascal.’ (An old Jew of Galicia, from "The Captive Mind"). Obliged, Grace, and Blessings.
Sunday, August 2, 2015
*** Roslyn (Marilyn Monroe): "Horse killers! Killers! Murderers! You're liars! All of you, liars! You're only happy when you can see something die! Why don't you kill yourself to be happy? You and your God's country! Freedom! I pity you! You're three dear, sweet, dead men!"
*** In "The Misfits," (Marilyn's and Clark Gable's last movies) three broken-back old cowboys hunt wild mustang horses for scratch and dog food while believing that their lust for Roslyn (MM) will save them from death. But in this scene Marilyn is outraged by their violence and barbarity and she attempts to stop the slaughter. The screenplay was written by playwright Arthur Miller, Marilyn's husband, and its based, I think, on an earlier actual experience. I am reading Miller's autobiography and he recounts that when he and Marilyn were living at Amagansett long island she encountered the surf-net fishers early one morning. The fishers drug their nets onto the beach then marketed the "money fish" but left all the writhing "trash fish" to slowly suffocate and die on the beach. Marilyn was horrified and began to get up early and follow these fishers and gather up all the dying fish and return them to the water. She became obsessed with stopping this daily slaughter ignored by everyone else and began rescuing the condemned fish every morning. Marilyn it seems (like Pope Francis?) rejected the economic ideology that classifies life as either 'marketable,' or 'trash,' but her life-saving work took a painful, physical and spiritual toll on her. A soaked-through Marilyn could often be witnessed shivering, stumbling, along the beach weeping and trying to get the dying fish back into the ocean, until one day she completely collapsed. Marilyn never fully recovered from that "break-down," and subsequent suicide attempt even though she was hospitalized for "treatment." She eventually recovered just enough to finish "The Misfits," but perhaps at the cost of her life. Other than academic/σαρκικός I have never really had much of an interest in Marilyn until recently, but it was this story and movie that have caused me to engage her again with more seriousness, sorrow, and maybe even reverence. I agree with what Clifford Odets said: “If they tell you that she died of sleeping pills you must know that she died of a wasting grief, of a slow bleeding at the soul.”
*** Not so different than most of us, Marilyn is/was too often made a prisoner of the discourses that attended her. But she was also, it seems to me, very aware of the web of narratives that attempted to define and ensnare her, and she often tried to resist, challenge, play with, and profit from those narratives. However, the Overlords of culture and administration are more clever and powerful than Marilyn and many others suppose and often those who set out to confront the 'death-dealing' masters of the 'precession of simulacrum' suffer mightily from the encounter. So of course I trust nothing that is written about Marilyn, and nothing that was written by her; i don't trust words--and neither did Marilyn. She adored all poets though and wanted to be one, and so she was. Not that being a poet instead of an actor would have saved her. Here's a favorite of mine by Marilyn written in 1958.
That silent river which stirs
And swells itself with whatever passes over it
Wind, rain, great ships
I love the river – never unmoored
It’s quiet now
And the silence is alone
Except for the rumbling of things unknown
Distant drums very present
But for the piercing of screams
And the whispers of things
Sharp sounds and then suddenly hushed
To moans beyond sadness – terror beyond
The cry of things dim and too young to be known yet
The sobs of life itself
And bear the pain & the joy
Of newness on your limbs
Loneliness – be still
*** How could that poem not break open your heart and heal it again? The Marilyn who wrote that poem is the same one who saved the dying trash-fish on the beach and saved the wild horses and the same one that escaped "The Black Dahlia" serial killer (or one of them). Perhaps we could call her *Saint Marilyn of Amagansatt* Patron saint of those who are suffocating, and those who were raped at age 6, and those left to die as un-marketable, and whores and those who must live life as only marketable, and the patron saint of horses (if horses have saints) and especially the patron saint of the beautiful who never got their own saint until Marilyn died.
*** Marilyn's last words on screen were, "Which way is home…How do you find your way home in the dark." But I don't think that Arthur Miller's answer is true, he wrote, "To have survived, she would have had to be either more cynical or even further from reality than she was. She was a poet on a street corner trying to recite to a crowd pulling at her clothes." But Miller was also one of those desperate clawing men pulling at her clothes. What Marilyn needed was not more cynicism or fantasy but the kind of love that finding her broken, floundering, and suffocating would return her to life-giving water.
Friday, July 17, 2015
|Madre dei Dolori|
(Mother of Sorrows)
“Every morning I sit at the kitchen table over a tall glass of water swallowing pills. (So my hands won’t shake.) (So my heart won’t race.) (So my face won’t thaw.) (So my blood won’t mold.) (So the voices won’t scream.) (So I don’t reach for knives.) (So I keep out of the oven.) (So I eat every morsel.) (So the wine goes bitter.) (So I remember the laundry.) (So I remember to call.) (So I remember the name of each pill.) (So I remember the name of each sickness.) (So I keep my hands inside my hands.) (So the city won’t rattle.) (So I don’t weep on the bus.) (So I don’t wander the guardrail.) (So the flashbacks go quiet.) (So the insomnia sleeps.) (So I don’t jump at car horns.) (So I don’t jump at cat-calls.) (So I don’t jump a bridge.) (So I don’t twitch.) (So I don’t riot.) (So I don’t slit a strange man’s throat.)” ― Jeanann Verlee
Friday, July 10, 2015
Somebody said/quoted (maybe Ben Myers or B Hart ?) that "Christianity doesn't provide a theoretical answer to the problem of evil, but particular responses to the experience of suffering."
This 'painting' is one of my particular responses.
Dan M/O shared this quote today: "The great challenge is *living* your wounds through instead of *thinking* them through. It is better to cry than to worry... You need to let your wounds go down into your heart. Then you can live them through and discover that they will not destroy you. Your heart is greater than your wounds." Its from Nouwen's, "The Inner Wound of Love."
I am hoping that its true, that my heart is bigger than my wounds.
This is only the second time that I used Ajax tar as a medium, its is a small study (36" X 24") for a possible "life" size that I am thinking about making. The figure (barbed wire and tar) is perhaps refusing/resisting the encompassing whiteness? Or perhaps becoming subsumed into whiteness? Or emerging from…who the heck knows, its art?…or is it?
"Some days, all I know is that the God-man has a fissure in his heart too…I have seen enough death to know that dying isn’t just dying. There are a million ways to die and live. Jesus has the one. We have our million." Theologian Anne Michele Carpenter
The Lynching, by Claude McKay
His Spirit in smoke ascended to high heaven.
His father, by the cruelest way of pain,
Had bidden him to his bosom once again;
The awful sin remained still unforgiven.
All night a bright and solitary star
(Perchance the one that ever guided him,
Yet gave him up at last to Fate's wild whim)
Hung pitifully o'er the swinging char.
Day dawned, and soon the mixed crowds came to view
The ghastly body swaying in the sun
The women thronged to look, but never a one
Showed sorrow in her eyes of steely blue;
And little lads, lynchers that were to be,
Danced round the dreadful thing in fiendish glee.
Blessings and obliged.
Saturday, May 30, 2015
|24'X48" Acrylic on canvass. c. 1984.|
So here is a collection of quotes and aphorisms that I found meaningful in some way. I saved most from my friends facebook posts. Some I saved/remember who the author is. Some I don't. A few are even my own. There is a narrative one might assign to the order, or not. Obliged.
"What unites God and us people is that He does not will to be God without us." Karl Barth
"Science has discovered Original Sin, which it calls the “Identity-protective Cognition Thesis.”
"Strangely enough I don't regard actualistic ontology as all that proctological." Darren Sumner
'Just like cross-cultural contextualization through language accessibility, which in practice turned out to be more like just mono-cultural transference of a pre-processed product via marketing.'
"God shouldn't be put in charge of everything until we get to know Him a little better." Kurt Vonnegut
"Van Gogh could see twenty-seven variety of black in capitalism." Lorine Niedecker:
"After all it doesn't really matter since all we're doing is indulging Craig's Gnostic and deranged theological proclivities." (someone wrote this in a comment to Craig Keen but they were joking…I think).
“If you have reasons to love someone, you don’t love them.” Žižek
"For many conservatives Its a bit disorienting to have a Pope who is actually a Christian." Read this by Gary Wills in, "The Future of the Catholic Church."
"But I don't necessarily define my faith by going to church every Sunday." Miley Cyrus
“What does it matter how many lovers you have if none of them gives you the universe?" Lacan.
“In all of human history no country or no people have suffered such terrible slavery, conquest and foreign oppression and no country and no people have struggled so strenuously for their emancipation than Sicily and the Sicilians.” Karl Marx, NY Tribune, May 1860. (or as they say in the North: Sicilia, dove si annida satana. = Sicily, where Satan lurks. Btw, I am a Siciliano).
"We are nothing but a view of the world." Merleau-Ponty.
"It comes as a great shock, around the age of five or six or seven, to discover the flag to which you have pledged allegiance along with everybody else has not pledged allegiance to you." James Baldwin.
'The problem with christian fairy tales is that there's no fairies. There's angels, but when those angels aren't committing mass murder, torturing Job, or watching over usamerican blonde-haired white children on there way to capitalist bible camp, then they are destroying our delusions!'
This fine poem, "Danse Russe." By William Carlos Williams.
If I when my wife is sleeping
and the baby and Kathleen
and the sun is a flame-white disc
in silken mists
above shining trees,—
if I in my north room
dance naked, grotesquely
before my mirror
waving my shirt round my head
and singing softly to myself:
“I am lonely, lonely.
I was born to be lonely,
I am best so!”
If I admire my arms, my face,
my shoulders, flanks, buttocks
against the yellow drawn shades,—
Who shall say I am not
the happy genius of my household?
"The God who lets us live in the world without the working hypothesis of God is the God before whom we stand continually. Before God and with God we live without God." Bonhoeffer.
"To become an expert is to learn what one may not say."
'Really, what is "Blank Space" but the cry of YHWH to inscribe one's soul in the Book of Life?'
"Now suddenly there was nothing but a world of cloud, and we three were there alone in the middle of a great white plain with snowy hills and mountains staring at us; and it was very still; but there were whispers." Black Elk.
“The humble Cumulus humilis - never hurt a soul.”
And finally this nice paragraph from Tolkien:
"Frodo kissed Merry and Pippin, and last of all Sam, and went aboard; and the sails were drawn up, and the wind blew, and slowly the ship slipped down the long grey firth; and the light of the glass of Galadriel that Frodo bore glimmered and was lost. And the ship went out into the High Sea and passed on into the West, until at last on a night of rain Frodo smelled a sweet fragrance on the air and heard the sound of singing that came over the water. And then it seemed to him that as in his dream in the house of Bombadil, the grey rain-curtain turned all to silver glass and was rolled back, and he beheld white shores and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise.
But to Sam the evening deepened to darkness as he stood at the Haven; and as he looked at the grey sea he saw only a shadow on the waters that was soon lost in the West."
Blessings and much obliged, Daniel.
Tuesday, May 5, 2015
"Yesterday, two wagons full of Polish ashes were taken away. Outside my office, the robinias are blooming beautifully, just as in Leipzig." Gotz Aly, "Cleansing the Fatherland: Nazi Medicine and Racial Hygiene" 132.
I have been concerned that almost no hummingbirds visited our feeders this week. I'v been making my own organic hummingbird nectar but they don't seem to like it as much as the commercially manufactured kind; like me, they seem to prefer the artificial syrup with the chemicals and the red dye added to it. Something that always reminds me of angels is when hummingbirds hover around me and I can feel the hushed beating of their wings. But hummingbirds can be so quick and aloof that they seem invisible, perhaps that's why I feel so blessed whenever they appear in my presence like *Spirits,* as Chardin said of Matter, "moving slow enough to be seen." I miss the hummingbirds, but not as much as I miss the angels.
We feel blessed that a hummingbird has built a nest right next to our front door again, but we are so worried about how vulnerable those tiny blue eggs are. Then the mother flew into our house and she couldn't escape. We ran around like mad trying to save her. She got caught up in spider webs and just missed the paddle fan blades. tragically, she fell from the air and collapsed onto the floor in shock and exhaustion. If there was a 911 for this sort of thing I would have called an ambulance. I did not want one more thing to die. We prayed and cried for her.
like many others I am looking fwd to the new Star Wars movie. I think one reason that we like these kinds of movies is that against strong evidence to the contrary, it pretends that humans may have a future. I know that many friends have given up on any sort of God and instead have become humanists. Others have given up on humans as well and look to animals and nature to find meaning in their lives. But animals too break our hearts and Nature may be even more indifferent to our death as god is thought to be. Some even choose to turn their eyes to the worshipful wonder of stars and the study of clouds. Sometimes I wonder if people, animals, and gods, have just spent too much time together on this tiny world and our relationship needs a little distance, light-years of distance. But then no sooner do I exchange my crucifix, golden Buddha, (or golden Labrador), for a slide-rule and telescope, when I may discover that a planet killing asteroid is heading my way!
Lynda cradled the wounded hummingbird in her caring hands while I tried to drip nectar onto her tiny beak. We loosed her from the webs that bound her wings and talked to her about how her babies will need her. Afraid that our god-like presence was disturbing her we set her down by some flowers with some nectar. She lay still on her side for awhile but as we sat vigil and prayed she begn to lick at the nectar. I was fussing with my camera phone hoping to finally catch a miracle, when she just leaped up and rocketed away! We checked this morning and she is back on her nest. The Force is strong with this one! "Either you take in believing in miracles or you stand still like the hummingbird." Henry Miller, "Stand Still Like the Hummingbird." Blessings and obliged.
Thursday, April 23, 2015
|Whodunnit. 96'X 36' Acrylic/painting/collage|
“It is not the consciousness of men that determines their being, but, on the contrary, their social being that determines their consciousness.” Karl Marx, A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy.
I decided to create a painting/diagram/collage, illustrating the most impressive in my annual round up of conspiracy theories gleaned from my wonderful Facebook friends pages this year. It all began with a Jesuit Sasquatch who ran a rat-line to help Nazi child molesters escape to Argentina through secret Roman tunnels under the Castel Sant'Angelo. However that was merely the tip of this diabolical conspiracy! While in hiding the Sasquatch uncovered evidence in the secret Vatican archives revealing his botched circumcision reversal, and that he had been the acting Platzhirsch of the Amerikadeutscher Bund! The shock of this revelation so transmogrified him he felt compelled to destroy of all Western civilization, but in a clever way that would lay the blame off on hippies, Muslims, and the Teamsters Union. So conspiring together with a cabal of expatriate White Russians, the 8 year old Barrack Obama, a cadre of Cubano ex-falangists, and Luca Brasi, who was not only Godfather Corleone's enforcer but also John Foster Dulles' polyvinyl-chloride lover, the disguised Sasquatch sniper waited on the grassy knoll in Dallas for the Archduke Ferdinand to drive by. His plot was foiled, however, by an alien race of human impersonators whose patsy, Lee Harvey Oswald, assassinated president Kennedy by mistake in an attempt to destroy SKYNET before it obtained a conscious state of singularity and thus could dominate the multiverse. Inexorably, the self-hating Wookiee, would seek his revenge by attempting to demolish the headquarters of the National Football League whose members were responsible for imposing the use of "astro-turf"™ on football fields (it is common knowledge that Jews have never liked natural grass, h/t to Seinfeld). SKYNET fought back by infiltrating Wikipedia and insinuating factual errors into Wiki articles. The tragically circumcised Wookiee became the Gollum of the Bush/Clinton--Weyland/Yutani corporations and acting on falsified information he mistakenly destroyed the Twin Towers in New York thinking that that was where the NFL headquarters were located. But In fact, it was all those liberal, dirt-worshipping, blue-skinned, *Na-vi* from the planet Pandora who hacked the NSA main frame in order to seek revenge for the obliteration of their Sacred Home-Tree! The Marxish Na-vi had hoped that while the country was distracted by the collapsing twin towers that through the imposition of gay marriage and legalized marijuana, they could conquer Earth through population attrition. The vigilant Pope Benedict XVI, head of "The Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn," uncovered this insidious and contraceptive plot and was on the verge of exposing the entire conspiracy when he was abducted and replaced by a Cyberdine Systems™ artificial life form. This Teutonic android Pope Benedict XVI was then "retired" to reputedly "fast and pray," but in fact he was eliminated altogether to make room for the more "progressive" Pope Francis™ a Jesuit plotter, 9-11 Truther, and stooge of the socialistic gay-Sasquatch agenda, who seeks only to destroy Amerika--god's third and final choice of peoples! "Why?" you may rightly ask, "have you not heard of this massive conspiracy before?" Well, it should be obvious that the *Powers That Be* have purposely kept it off of the History Channel!
(Or maybe its more like my old Rebbe used to say after smacking me on the back of the head, "Daniel, don't over complicate things, its as simple as this. The strongest cave-man (sic) with the biggest club takes the plushest cave and the most bulbous Kardashian").
This video is a close up for those wanting a closer look. Much obliged again y'all and see you next year.