Well, well.
Well, well.
Today's the birthday of the famous punidiot of Skins's island, the best-selling novelist William Rivers Pitt, otherwise known as the Bostonian Drunkard. His thirty-ninth.
Well, well.
There are some who don't know who the Bostonian Drunkard is, and that's okay, because while the Bostonian Drunkard may be a bigwig on Skins's island, he's a nobody out in the wider world.
The Bostonian Drunkard, one of the most-senior primitives (late January 2001), is from Boston and is a trust-fund kiddie, really loaded, although for some peculiar reason he can't have any of the dough yet, and so in addition to his writing chores for TruthOut, he's compelled to work as a bouncer at some obscure bar.
The Bostonian Drunkard used to be second-from-the-top at TruthOut, managing editor or something like that, until his Fitzmas Debacle of May 12, 2005, after which he was demoted to guest columnist.
I'm tired at the moment, worn out, and so am not up to writing a Pitt-length piece, but I hope readers will find the link below illuminating; franksolich considers that particular thread one of his finest works.
The "backstory" on it, before one goes to the link, is that in January 2010, Scott Ritter, the notorious arms-inspector and collaborator of the Bostonian Drunkard, was arrested for trying to make nice-nice with a 13-year-old girl who turned out to be an undercover cop.
http://www.conservativecave.com/index.php/topic,39228.0