Spider. My bluegrass redneck-lovin' Charlie Daniels Band brother-in-law and his hair.

During any occasion held at my sister's first house, small clumps of puffy-jacketed pod-women would congregate, all the while briskly rubbing their scratchy plastic sleeves with nubby little fists and comment on how cold the weather was. I assume they were local - from within our solar system - and were in some manner related to one another telepathically.

Front and center is the father of my eldest sister's sons, Spider. Refusing to acknowledge the existence of temperatures all together he disdained the use of shoes, no matter how inclement. He would soundly berate me for acknowledging the existence of music beyond a certain time period or geographic local, scoffing hairily at my Pixies cd collection.

We still have a very genial relationship, I get to laugh at his wig-like fulsomeness and he quaffs port, decrying my taste in music.

If you are going to linger unobtrusively in the background of a photo, take note that matching your environment to nigh on the almost exact same lumpen tone of brown is highly recommended.