I have to plug Atman again for the Rob.
He didn't do much on Skins's island this year, and so no nomination or vote for my twin as one of the Top DUmmies, but damn, every time I see him on Skins's island, I have to stop, look, and laugh.
Atman's a child of privilege, having been born and raised in one of the Levittowns down in Florida; his mother has scads of money, and his late father made good money. He's always been vague about his family--which is okay, and good sense, as they aren't primitives and need left alone--but apparently he has an older brother and two older sisters.
Being the youngest, his mother spoiled him. She struck him as the "sensitive" one, the one too fragile and too refined to survive in the rough-and-tumble world, and overly protected him. And somewhere along the line, Atman picked up this odd notion that "sensitives," "aesthetes," are supposed to be angry, pissed-off people, even though they themselves haven't suffered.
Atman's wife--but no primitive, remember--is apparently a medical health professional, a registered nurse or physical therapist or something like that. He's spoken of two adult sons, and is a grandfather. One gets the impression they all have to cater to the old man's whims, who acts like a temper-tantrumming little girl in pigtails when he doesn't get his way.
Atman lives in eastern Connecticut, where he's an "artist," usually of caricatures. I know his work's been panned here, but in my own opinion, he's actually pretty good. He lives in an exclusive neighborhood, near a lake. He has a rather high opinion of himself, and has Perierre water piped into the plumbing, because ordinary water isn't good enough for what he drops into the commode.
Despite that he constantly whines about "the rich" as if he's not one of them, he is.
Why he's even on Skins's island mystifies me; it's like someone in the country club set hanging around with the trailer court trash (no negative commentary on people who live in trailers--no way).