Here we are! The Old Fellow is back, and in top form. First rate prose from him today, on the subject of ScarJo. We could have done without the Nabokov - we've always been of the opinion that nerds are a little too instant in banging you over the head with Vladimir, as though just by walking around and watching TV you're not paying him enough attention. The way a six year old might worry if you weren't effusive enough in praising their damn toy robot from Radioshack. A similar phenomenon with Philip K. Dick. Shouldn't true fanatics just assume that every intelligent person is on board, and not insist on having you take a loyalty oath every ten minutes?
But we digress - we're thrilled with the High Style demonstrated today by Jack. The third and fourth paragraphs should be copied into chapbooks by eighth graders wishing to learn the art of descriptive essay. Furthermore it must be noted and is all the more remarkable that Jack no doubt composed these words whilst ass-deep in Moet vomit.
Let's hope muses continue to glide back and forth in front of him and drive him to heights of word-forming of the first order.
