Okay, we need to talk right now. In my preparation for this conversation, I was doing a tiny little

bit of googling and that painting by Edward Munch came up that's called the scream you can picture it's all

Nightmarish and horrifying and you get the guy with his hands on the side of his face like a

things are terrible or whatever.

Somebody just pointed out that it looks like a cocker spaniel.

And I was like, no, it doesn't, it looks like the,

it totally looks like a cocker spaniel, like just a really mediocre painting of a cocker spaniel.

And I was like, ah, it's a great painting.

I don't want to see the cocker spaniel.

I want to see the person screaming again so that I can feel some kind of connection

across the generations in terms of existential angst with Edvard Munch and then I look again

and I'm like, no, no, it's just an adorable Cocker Spaniel on maybe a bridge or something, enjoying a beautiful

sunset, maybe it's like a boardwalk in Yellowstone.

It's actually a really lovely painting that doesn't make me feel any angst at all. And the thing that is hilarious here is it ruined the painting for me.

And a lot of people say stuff like that.

They're like, the Star Wars sequels ruined Star Wars for me.

Well, it didn't ruin your childhood.

It didn't ruin Star Wars. It just wasn't that good.

But this is different. The painting is ruined because it is not physically possible for me to unsee what I've just seen.

There's been a physiological rewiring of my brain and forever,

the scream is now that cocker spaniel on that bridge in Yellowstone at sunset

and is just how things are now.

...