What kind of fool am I? The old fool there’s no fool like, now, I suppose. A fool to cry. A fool for your loving no more? No less. A fool in amber, suspended like a fly.
Look at that fool, over there, on the left. He looks like some Jack from a fairy tale, he’s looking into the blue yonder as he’s about to step off a cliff. Hasn’t the brains of his dog, who is clearly trying to warn him about his impending wily coyote treading on thin air. I like him though, that fool. Maybe the sky is particularly beautiful on that day frozen in the major arcana card.
Still, what kind of fool has a designer handbag at the end of a stick? Risking ridicule and bag-snatchers, now that is foolish. See he’s got a flower in the other hand, well maybe he’s the worst kind of fool. That’s right. A fool in love.

Look above his head. It might be a halo, oh no, just “o”, or zero. His rank in the arcana, of course.

What kind of fool designed this card? What is that yellow sky about? Are those the blue-ridged moutains of Virginia? Where is the lonesome pine? Foolish questions all.