Rick Nelson and Claude Peck dispense unasked-for advice about clothing, etiquette, culture, relationships, grooming and more.


RN: This situation reminds me of a Broadway show tune.


CP: Quelle surprise. Didn’t you write the self-help bestseller “Book, Lyric, Life Itself”?


RN: Ignoring. I can hear Miss Judy Holliday now. “The party’s over, it’s time to call it a day. No matter how you pretend, you knew it would end this way.”


CP: You may as well spit it out, country simple, so even a dog or cat can catch your drift.


RN: Fine. We’re done. Finito. Kaput. Toast. Slow curtain, the end.


CP: Nooo. Who put you up to this? You know I don’t cope well with change. For you, these weekly chats are a side dish, a bonbon. For me they’ve been an entire Lean Cuisine and half a bottle of wine.


RN: Half? Please.


CP: May I be serious for one second? Being 65 percent of this thing has been tremendous fun.


RN: Ditto, squared. I am again reminded of a show tune: “We didn’t want this to happen, but we shouldn’t feel sad. We had a good life together, just remember all the times we had.” That’s “Dreamgirls,” by the way.


CP: OMG, speaking of which, remember our breathless eight-minute phoner with a certain “Dreamgirls” breakout star? That was nine years and, for Ms. Jennifer Hudson, 100 pounds ago. It’s all been a bit downhill since then.


RN: We’ve Glanced more than 500 times since the first one appeared on Oct. 23, 2005. And now here we are, hip-deep in the last one, ever.


CP: Wait, are we laying ourselves off? Because if so, I demand at least a sheet cake.


RN: I’d like to think that we’re pulling a Mary Tyler Moore. You know, departing when we want to, rather than being asked to leave.


CP: So I can no longer play Lou Grant and tell you that you are past deadline, and must work on Christmas?


RN: For old Glance’s sake, sure. Can you pass that Kleenex, amigo? I’m getting a little teary.


CP: You are? I haven’t been this blue since we pulled the plug on our weekly W.G. podcasts, which once upon a time were listened to over hill and distant dale.


RN: Can we offer a few thankful shout-outs? To management, for never blinking at the Glance. To my siblings, and yours, and our late mothers, and my hubby, Robert, for being such good sports about all the ribbing. And to you, my partner in crime and best-o-friend.


CP: If I out-teased you, forgive me. Thanks to all those total strangers who told us they liked us, even if they often were drinking when they said so.


RN: We love them. And to our former boss Susie, who suggested this thing in the first place.


CP: If you can lead off with a Broadway quote, I’ll fade it out with a lyric paraphrased from that immortal, leather-pantsed Lizard King, Jim Morrison: “This is the end, beautiful friend … the end of laughter and soft lies.”


RN: Sure, have the last word. And choke me up while you’re at it. We can still have lunch, can’t we?


E-mail: witheringglance@startribune.com

Twitter: @claudepeck and @RickNelsonStrib