I went to my country road mailbox a couple of days ago, opened it, and beneath nonsensical mail, there was the New Yorker. I held it in my hands and stared at the Barry Blitt cover of the many faces, personalities and histories of Hillary Clinton. And I came to a thought: There’s nothing more to say. It’s all here.
Mouth agape, I’m still staring at it. You? Blitt is incredible, a truly remarkable artist.