Ahhh, Krugman--Volume 3

I know you people sit around and shake your heads when I say things like "I'm painting Krugman now" or "Let the spectacle begin!" I know you are thinking something like "This guy's so full of shit you can see it coming out his ears."

So how you liking me now?



I'm actually surprised at how well it turned out. Deep inside I knew that if I scrawled enough comments (Thank you, Zero Hedge readers) onto the background of the thing that the ghostly face would emerge, limpid and beautiful in that same terrible way that zombies can sometimes be. Particularly if they used to be extremely attractive women. The technical term is something like negative space--or something like that.

Nonetheless, wowzers. And Lord, the nasty things people had to say to the man. Or to me...about him. Or to me, specifically. I'm still scalded by the comment I think I shared a couple of posts below.

Precious?

Really?

Fuck you.

Anyway, 55K. Carpe diem, dear friends. The hounds of the Baskervilles will be baying at the moon tonight; and if one of them is loaded it might be too late for you.