Ok. Do I have to be the bad guy, here? Let me just say it: Dick, it's time to go. I noticed it a few years ago, one of the few times I cared to watch the network coverage of...anything.
The slurring, the pinched face, the obviously awkward delivery all point towards the retirement home, methinks. Why not? He's got enough money to get the best there is in assisted living. He can host their talent shows or something. He'll be fine.
But no, he thinks that the world is just unable to face a next year without confirming it, every second of the way, with America's Oldest Teenager, Dick Clark. He must think that he's doing us a favor by getting drugged up enough to be wheeled into place for his painful 90 second splash.
But it hurts to watch him. It's unfair to the viewer who tuned in to see hot chicks pointing out how special and awesome it is to be in Times Square on New Year's Eve. Why bring down the vibe with a cutaway from the eyecandy to this slobbering prune?
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