My dear husband is a silly, silly man. I like to think that he became that way under my tutelage. Before me, he was a mild-mannered, lovely, intelligent man. Now he's a mild mannered, lovely, intelligent man who replaces the words in commercial jingles with my name, staples my sleeve to my shirt when I'm not looking and practices his fake ninja moves in the kitchen.
I've ruined him, irrevocably. I tend to have that effect on people.
Lost in the mists of time is the origin of "Hobo Oboe Concerto." At some point Josh came up with that particular combination of words and has waited for the proper time to unleash it in some way on the world at large. Guess what he's been asking me to draw lately?
Did I draw this quickly and poorly? Yes
Did I make any effort at all to correctly portray an oboe? Absolutely not.
Are you questioning my anatomical knowledge of the human hand based on my fallacious portrayal of what appear to be fingers and thumbs? You should be if you're not.
Josh already has a follow up to "Hobo Oboe Concerto" and that, friends, is "Zoot Suit Flute Hootenanny"