It really is almost too much. The mind reels. Over one hundred pages of Drew Friedman all at once. After a decade and a half of being able to get one's hands on only one or two pages at a time, to be deluged with an entire book full that collects the last 15 years of Friedman's supernaturally detailed renderings of media figures -- the famous as well as, and especially, the obscure -- which manage, through an alchemical process involving pen, ink and paper known only to him, to reveal secret, hidden meanings of American celebrity that connect us poor citizens to aspects of our lives that we might not otherwise have suspected (and, to be honest, might have preferred never discovering) were there, is an overwhelming experience which leaves us, for once almost (but, admittedly, not quite) speechless. So, we'll let Dan Clowes do the talking: "(H)e is so far and away the best caricaturist I hesitate to even imply a competition for fear of embarrassing the few distant contenders. His portraits are each embedded with some form of commentary that is often so subtle as to defy notice.... Often a visionary artist is rendered passé to the general public by a flurry of imitators in his wake, but since nobody could possibly imitate Friedman's style, he remains a singular entity, existing in his own sub-category of comic-book history." Following Clowes's eloquent testimony there is a 20-page appreciation of Friedman and his work by Ben Schwartz, followed by the frantic Friedman fest itself.