The Night of the Iguana

As in, "I think iguana be okay."

As it relates to "The Annotated Palin."

Which you can see here, more or less where it has sat for the last couple of weeks, staring at me like the picture of Dorian Gray or something.



Good God Almighty that's a nasty thing to behold.

And I am here to tell you I was in desperate straits tonight. I mean, tomorrow is going to be a lovely day, and I really liked the idea of taking a painting out for annotations, and we've already discussed the fact that I think Big Sarah, successfully executed and annotated, can put the fall political series to bed (with the exception of the upcoming McCain/Obama pair for Metro Papers).

Yet, dear reader, I was in desperate straits. Easier said than done, if you get my drift. Because if the painting sucks outloud, it sucks outloud. And I am here to tell you, I just couldn't get the thing even remotely right. I'll spare you the interim shots, but suffice to say I, at one point, even resorted to the old "fold the photo in half" trick. This would be that:



Which, actually, is kind of fun. Particularly if you've had a few beers. Which tonight I hadn't, but I'm speaking from experience.

Anyway, I think iguana be okay, because this is what I finally squeezed out the back end (if that's not too indelicate a metaphor for the act of painting). Quick aside: a vision just popped into my head--years from now, when they make a film about the story of my life, Gene Wilder's grandson will play the role of my grandson and reprise the famous line from Young Frankenstein: "My Grandfather's work is doo-doo."

Anyway, this is what I squeezed out:



Which, while certainly not my finest hour, rates in my book a letter-grade of C+. My favorite part? I love the slight weirdness of the teeth. Least? The hair is a disaster. I simply cannot paint hair using the drip technique. Leastways not hers. So I resort to squeezing straight from the tube, which yields this:



The less said the better.

Now this, my friend, leastways if you are a Democrat (or barring that, someone with the intelligence of a border collie or better), is a pretty scary fucking sight. But I do like the nose. And, to a lesser degree, the eyes. And I think I like her left eye better than her right.



The teeth do make me giggle.

So, given all this, tomorrow I head for the Financial District. The thinking, roughly, is to get in front of the NYSE early, garner a shitload of annotations, then saunter down to Goldman Sachs where, perhaps, one of their 94 newly-minted partners will be feeling flush enough to bite.

I've baited my hook for Leviathan but, if it's all the same to you, I'm not going to gird my loins until tomorrow morning--its uncomfortable sleeping that way.