A Tiny Tear in the Fabric of the Universe

So I'm standing in the living room of my friend A.J. making small talk when it happened. I had come by to borrow a midi controller and it was my first time setting foot in his home. We had digressed about cats, Christian rock and a pretty mindblowing concept for a screenplay based on A.J.'s recent breakup when I looked across the room and saw it. And my speech slurred to a stop. "Wha–? Is that... I don't, under...."

A.J. stared at me, perplexed, his big, sweet Ewok eyes growing wider. He said nothing.

"Why do you have that...? I mean, what is that? I just don't understand."

I was staring at this painting, on the cover of an LP, which he had framed and set on his table.


And the tiny tear in the fabric of the universe happened in my brain, which short-circuited because I couldn't understand what multiple levels of perverse indie irony had caused someone to create a retro-tinged oil painting of spoof-epic Tropic Thunder's Kirk Lazurus (actually the white actor Robert Downey Jr. in blackface), and dress him in WWII-era pilot garb.

I heard A.J., as if from a great distance, mumbling something about Jazz composer Thelonious Monk and great deals on frames from Urban Outfitters, but I had already fallen down the rabbit hole.