Interior latex and automotive enamel on cotton duck canvas, 118" x 48"
(No, of course that's not the case, but it oughta be, don't you think?)


Well, my plan -- quit posting new pictures and leave the same page up for months and months, thus sparking the rumor that
I was dead, and driving the prices way up -- must not have worked. And there were other reasons, which I'll get to in a minute, to
crank the Rebus back up. (Crank the rebus. How's that for a turn of phrase?) So over the weekend, I did this, and a fireworks
picture which, shall we say, fell short of winning me over. I decided to go with just the one above. Either way, it's Americana, right?
And that was the point here.

Sorry, but I couldn't settle on a title for this one -- When in the Course of Throwing Paint didn't quite get it for me, but the one
I preferred, Dig Those Crazy Human Events, seemed less appropriate the more I looked at it, because this thing started reminding
me not so much of a beatnik painting as an artifact from a parallel world where Ralph Steadman had an entirely different upbringing
and took a job as
an art director at American Greetings. And besides, I think beatniks (who, I'm willing to bet, never referred
to themselves as beatniks; that was originally a sort of derogatory term coined by a newspaperman named
Herb Caen in 1958,
a year when -- you can probably imagine why -- everybody was sticking -nik onto the end of words for whatever was bugging
them) only talked like that when they were depicted in episodes of Bachelor Father or Here's Lucy. Even Maynard G. Krebs
was hipper than that. Hell, even Gilligan was hipper than that.

But to get back to what I think I may have been talking about...were I you, I'd glance at the painting, try to get a little kick out of it, and
consider this entry an elaborate (or, as some would put it, long-winded) invitation to show up next Monday when the Weekly Rebus
resumes in earnest. I think it'll stay interesting for a while. There are a number of issues I'll attempt to address. There's an odd, belated
bereavement I've been going through. And this summer, and in particular the next two months of it, marks the 20th anniversary of
The Best Time of My Life, so of course I'll have to deal with that somehow. Come to think of it, there's another important anniversary
lying in wait next month as well. So stick with me here; we should have lots of good stuff coming up soon.

By the way, how was your Fourth? Good, good. Glad to hear it.

Next: A vacation.

The Picture of the Week Archives:

11.26.07: Night of the Hunter, Part II
11.19.07: Night of the Hunter, Part I
11.12.07: Hunter's Lake
11.05.07: Deconstructing October
09.17.07: Der Käfer
09.10.07: Straight Up
09.03.07: End of Summer
08.27.07: Knob Creek at Sunset
06.18.07: Grilling
06.11.07: Forgetfulness and Blasphemy
05.21.07: Guerillas Indie Missed
05.07.07: Cat on Page 2D
04.30.07: Study for God's Linoleum

04.23.07: Pareidolia for Dummies

04.16.07: Pareidolia
04.02.07: Regression Redux
03.19.07: Regression
03.12.07: She's Ready

02.26.07: Cold as Hell
02.12.07: The Three Faces of Suzanne

02.05.07: Progress, of a Sort
01.22.07: What I Painted
01.15.07: Art Lesson

01.08.07: Mountcastle Drive
01.01.07: Resolution
12.24.06: Christmas Eve
12.18.06: Wintering
12.11.06: By Way of Apology
12.04.06: Rodney Hits the Floor
11.27.06: Gondola Car and Busy Ball
11.20.06: Sketch for The Remains
11.13.06: Work in Progress: Lawn Deer

11.06.06: Two Studies for VW

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