Contest for Minimalists

Any metaphysical genius who, while the world waits with bated breath for a cogent answer, is deft enough to say

There are known knowns. These are things we know that we know. There are known unknowns. That is to say, there are things that we know we don't know. But there are also unknown unknowns. There are things we don't know we don't know.
~ Donald Rumsfeld

cannot, in my estimation, be summarily shrugged off as simple evil-doer like Glenn Beck or Josef Mengele.

At the very least, The Magnificent Rummy has a promising high-wire circus act should remunerative employment of evil-doers dry up. Or if he somehow blows the spondulicks he's converted his revisionist drivel, Known and Unknown: A Memoir, into.

Yuri Gripas, Reuters

I suspect I will be forever amused by Rumsfeldian reasoning and rationalizing, despite the frequent absense of reason and rational thinking found therein.

Yet I am struck by how little theatrical makeup would be needed to turn Donald Rumsfeld into an evil clown. A dash of white powder, and a smidge of red lipstick, is all that separates Rummy from giving inconsolable nightmares to generations of impressionable children.

Therefore I propose a contest for freakishly zealous minimalists.

I challenge Oprah, with her OWN resources, to award a gleaming showroom automobile to the first over-caffeinated, wildly-screaming female who can daub on the fewest ounces of theatrical makeup to flip Rumsfeld's evil clown bit.

Viewer discretion advised.