When historians look for the epithet to describe our times the term which fits best is banality. Peter is the Napoleon Brandy of "banal"...He is now widowed, lonely, grumpy, and on the verge of Lear's four-score years, but without Lear's ranting rage against the universe. His bulletins promise to "tell all" but in fact he divulges tantalizingly little...Will we ever find out who he is? Do we care?
Sorry, Mr. Sutherland, I looked for you on a Google search
Correction: Here is the LINK.
For everyone else reading this, you can now go directly to the YouTube clip and enjoy the latest installment from geriatric 1927 as he responds to someone "who's got his degree in English and writes his petty one thousand words in a column [and] is so up his own ass that he doesn't understand what it's all about."
If I didn't blog about this latest release in a timely manner I would have to turn in my credentials as a blogger. Go get yourself current.
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