... and, don’t forget, a formal annual awards banquet.

Hear, Hear ... !!

He’s about as close to Trevor Noah as a snail is to a lobster.

Hear, hear ... the single most boring self-proclaimed “comedian” on the planet. And he does indeed steal all his “jokes.” 💤💤💤💤

“Neither the Super Value chief nor Mr Maury is named as a defendant in the action ...”

Uh ... OK ... so if that’s true, why did they dial up their butt-buddy Neil Hartnell to write a lonnnng, stirring defense in the newspaper? And why didn’t good ol’ Neil bother to get any comment from the other side? Hmmmm.

“Methinks he doth protest too much ...” or, if more Shakespeare is required, “Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.”

They should rename this agency the “Ministry of Disastrous Mismanagement.”

Bwahahahaha ... The Tribune plays host to dueling real estate titans: One day, it’s Neil Hartnell’s courageous reporting based on whatever spiel is offered by whoever buys him a free lunch; the next day, it’s the “official” real estate association contradicting them.

Gotta wonder who’s telling the truth ... if any of ‘em are.

Exactly, well-said. Why gather them only to let them die? Ease off conch fishing this year, let them replenish, as everybody from environmentalists to the fishermen themselves realize is necessary. Senseless. Just senseless.

Uh ... if there’s no market for what ya catch, maybe stop fishin’? Just a thought ...

Neil Hartnell and his wealthy real estate pals would rather see you die than interrupt their cash flow, even temporarily. A pox on all of them ... literally.