The statues have arrived

I refer, of course, to these ...

One of which is mine.

Not mine, really.  Since I have to give it back.  But mine in a sort of a limited way for an off night.  I depart circa 1:00 today to pick it up.

I'm told it weighs 65 pounds.  Crikeys, I'm gonna get a hernia.

Do you ever listen to my friend Duncan Crary's podcast about Troy?  Called 'A Small American City', it's good clean fun.  Go here and take a listen.  Fabulous if you're one of those people who likes long-form radio.  Which I do not.  And I listen to it anyway, so that shouljd tell you something.

I see you are being true to your word.
About what?
About not correcting the incorrect insertion of the letter J in your shoulds and woulds.
Yes I am.
Bravo.  It is what it is.

Me?  I think the shit should just spew out of you, as unedited as possible.  Witness this fantastic moment in Western Representational Art ...

This, as everybody knows, is Day 3 of Blue Paulson.  I refer to the goober of red coming out of the left side of his face.  It's like Tourettes with the fucking paint.  I really like this painting and the red goober is one of my favorite parts.  Who would have thought the Secretary of the Treasury of the United States was actually a wind-up toy?  Back in the day, just when we really needed him?

Anyway, I bring all this up only to draw your attention to Episode 3 of the podcast.  It's called 'Enjoy Troy', which is a local slogan.

Me?  I'm going to write Enjoy Troy right on Uncle Sam's codpiece.  Which is huge, by the way.  Not the artistic choice I might have made, but whatever.

Then I'm gonna write a big number 8 on the back and the word 'Aikman' across the shoulders.  Then I'm gonna let everybody else say whatever it is they need to say, via Sharpies.

Art therapy -- what's not to like?

The rest will be history.