The licking of the wounds ...

The licking of the wounds has been replaced by the licking of the fingers after a lovely Thanksgiving repast. I've never tasted a brined turkey that absorbed so much of the brine. To good effect, I would add.

Is it effect or affect?
I honestly don't know.
Me neither.
I mean, the effect of brining lent an overall saltiness the turkey would have otherwise lacked.
At the same time, one could suggest that the turkey, acting as its own agent, affected a certain brininess. Two years before the mast, and all that stuff.
Rum, buggery and the lash.
Indeed.
Yes you could.
What?
Suggest that the turkey, acting as its own agent, affected a certain brininess.
Particularly if you buy into the relatively specious notion that the turkey was acting as its own agent.
Particularly.
Certainly one of the two.
What two?
Effect or affect.
Certainly.

Further, to quote George Costanza (a character I'm not entirely comfortable aligning myself with): "I'm back, Jerry."

I always thought of you as Jerry.
Me too.
Not so much George.
God help me.
With perhaps Elaine as a close second.
We should all be in touch with our inner woman--provided we are men.
Amen.

Anyway, I'm done licking my wounds about the Goldman Sachs fiasco. There's some talk of having a small upstate show featuring six or so of my so-called Minotaur paintings, of which this is the only one extant ...



... combined with a smattering of classic annotated paintings...



... of which this is a personal favorite.

There is also some talk, at least in my own mind ...

Stop the shouting! Stop the shouting!
What shouting?
You don't hear that?
What?
The shouting?
No.
No?
No.
Then I guess it's all in my mind.
Prolly.

Anyway, apparently the discussion is an internal one, but there is some talk of reinterpreting The American Investor as a loosely rendered Sarah Palin and call it Screaming Palin.

Which makes me smile, just thinking about it.