I thought I had said all I ever wanted to say about Don Cherry. But lately, the man has morphed into Glenn Beck in sequins, out to prove that he who shouts loudest is always right. It's always the same thing: the rage, the name-calling, the complete absence of reason
... and I just love the last line:
So put that in your pipe and smoke it, Don. Just don't get ashes on the pink jacket. Liberace's ghost wants it back.