Paul Douglas

Douglas is a perennial, but that's a good thing. He's been around so long, in fact, that it's hard to say just what makes him such a comforting presence. Maybe it's that amused half-smirk. Perhaps it's the stubborn refusal to shift with the winds of fashion like so much blow-dried jetsam. Or maybe it's just that Douglas's delivery is so low-key and amiable that he could make the Ten Plagues of Egypt sound like a stiff zephyr. We have a front of locusts moving in from the west, and we may see a few isolated showers of frogs later on tonight. But things look clearer by the weekend. That's no mean feat in a state in which the weather often seems like the manifestation of Old Testament wrath.


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