SOME PICTURES ARE SELF-EXPLANATORY

Sadly, this is not one of them. As someone on the periphery of events, I could infer only that momentous pronouncements were being made, brains were being washed, minions were being conscripted. Beyond that, I was in the dark, which, given the context of the event, was an unnerving place to be, so I shook off the overpowering desire to become the toady of a giant papier-maché head and escaped down the street to clear my head by gazing upon Richard Nickel and family cavorting in a store window. I realize that this could probably use an explanation too, but life is too short for all this freakin explaining.