I'm still working on my review of this weekend, which was middling compared to past years. The highs were lower, the lows were higher. (But how about those icebergs and stalactites made of thousands of pieces of paper in the last piece by "aluminum siding & mattisonethemove"? I'm not crazy about their name, but the set and the way the dancers used pieces of paper in the way that b-boys use handkerchiefs—dropping and catching them in improbable ways—was diverting. On the other hand, I'm back to feeling grumpy about Jeppa Hall/Queen Shmooquan, who has lost me and won me and lost me again.)
Anyway, here's what one artist, who typically loves OtB, drew in my notebook last night after the main stage show:

I'm guessing that's a bad review. But maybe that's just my spermatophobia talking.
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