A banal misspelling for Bret becomes a valid reason for derision and insult; as a street predator he hides behind virtual bushes to jump out and hit with his hopeless affirmations and arrogant presumptions.
It would be a far better use of time for Bret to have revised his own translation into the language of Dante and Manzoni, which he claims to know so well. I laughed loudly as I read the title of his book, “Rudolph Valentino: L'uomo Ei Suoi Uomini”. Even his title contains two delusional and glaring mistakes.
The subsequent reading of his book's blurb, written in a way even an illiterate could not conceive, proves that the translation was done without any knowledge of Italian grammar and of the semantic values of the words used. Above all, it reads as if it was written under the influence of hallucinogenic potions and with the contribution of the worst possible automatic translator and obviously without even the slightest revision by a native speaker of the language.
I am truly amazed that Tracy Ryan Terhune continues to offer a stage for Bret's exploits, because in this way, in addition to being an accomplice aware of judicial ordinances, he proves to be equally as much of a mean-spirited nit-picker. And I do not understand how such a petty character like that can claim the right to pontificate authoritatively before the earthy remains of Rudolph Valentino and with the approval of the actor's family who, in this way, show remarkably little respect for the one whose reflected light grants them such undeserved attention.
How low you have all fallen as you create your own sad fate.
With all my sympathies,