"And from there, there’s no stopping him: the stream of consciousness flows as freely as it did in the days of In His Own Write, with Lennonesque aperçus on everything from his Club Penguin addiction (“I’ve 16 Puffles in me igloo, man”) to his pre-sleep regimen (“a potent cocktail of vino rosso, Klonopin, and Craig Ferguson”) to his bafflement at the praise heaped upon Bob Dylan’s so-called Never Ending Tour (“It’s rubbish! They’ve taken his guitar away, and he stands over the keyboard like it’s a Zimmer frame. Zimmer-man frame, more like”)."
Ugh ugh ugh.
Wow.
