Ninety-four years without a word. That has to be a world record.
Are we talking about an elderly Buddhist monk? Marcel Marceau's autobiography? Neither one.
We're talking about someone much, much more important who just happens to be one of my favorite people in the world, except that he's not a person. He's a peanut. But not just any peanut. He is the nut that is large and in charge, the mother of all peanuts, except that he is a guy, which means he can't be a mother. Yes, we're talking about Mr. Peanut, and now you know.
I am a huge Mr. Peanut fan, and I have been since I was an annoying little brat. I even have a Mr. Peanut collection, including a wind-up Mr. Peanut and a rubber Mr. Peanut, sort of a cross between Mr. Peanut and Gumby. This week, after 94 years of strutting his very stylish stuff in silence, Mr. Peanut spoke. This is huge.