2.5" die-cut patch on cream canvas.
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It's clear to you, right? It's clear that if one were to cut open my chest and peer inside to see what all the fuss is about, it'd likely be determined that I am made up of Peanuts, Spider-Man, Donald Duck, and, like, space shit in equal measure. You get that, right?
Sure there's the Finks and the Lovecrafts and the Evas and the Calvins and everything else that makes me more than just a dumb club of a thing...there's nuance, but at the base id level, shit is on Snoopy, son. Lucy rules everything around me.
I don't need to wax academic about angst, sadness, and the plight of Yung Mr. Brown here...you get that already. You know dude is bummed that he's him. And you know that don't keep him from getting angry and cussing every now and again.