Flawed Geithner

Look at this painting of Fed Chairman Tim Geithner.



About a week ago I rolled it up and tucked it into the corner with the other rolled-up paintings. On the outside I wrote the words "Flawed Geithner." Because I hated the painting. Because it was flawed, and by being so served as testimony to my own flaws. So I rolled the fucker up.

Anyway, funny how a week away from something changes things. I unrolled it today, stapled it on the wall (unusual for me in and of itself--I almost always re-stretch 'em before I start painting again), and stared at it.

And then it hit me:

Picture yourself on a train in a station.

Okay, now picture this same painting with a host of minor changes here and there, with the top of his hair considerably trimmed by some white paint, his head surrounded by a halo executed in the very lightest of yellows. The title?

"St. Timothy."

If you'll allow me the briefest of thoughts on sainthood: Surely we hold these truths to be self-evident that every saint that ever was started out as a flawed man. Man, it should be noted here, is used in the gender-neutral sense. So why not the journey from "Flawed Geithner" to "St. Timothy"? Oy gevalt! There's hope for us all.

Could you just die?