Something inside me wants to molest this Trevor Brown painting come to life but that’s a part that I keep buried in the tiny, padlocked box at the bottom of the three-mile-deep closet that’s inside another closet that you get to by taking a right turn after skeleton 895 in closet 57.
The juxtaposition of Willy Wonka suit top and St. Marks Misfits gloves is so perfect we’re actually glad she took it easy on us for the rest of the look and didn’t bust out some high-heel boots or something. The vascular tissue in our dinks can only hold so much blood.
One thing that's always bugged me about cases of terminal vacancy like this is is it like a slow boil where a subtle layer of dumb gets added ever year or did she literally wake up one morning with her brain yelling "SPARKLY GOOD!"? Comments/Enlarge See all