Today is the 150th anniversary of the birth (July 26, 1856) of George Bernard Shaw. By coincidence, I was going through some notes and I came across this rememberance of him by Bertrand Russell. I'd been unsuccessfully looking for it on the Internet for years. It seems to sum up the old fool nicely:
He wanted to be witty at all costs and it led him into unbelievable cruelties. He taunted [H.G.] Wells with facetious remarks about his wife -- Wells's wife -- when he knew very well she was dying of cancer.
Alistair Cooke, Six Men, p. 166, Knoph, 1977
(The title of the post comes from an anecdote in Richard Ellmann's Pulitzer Prize-winning biography of Oscar Wilde. One day Wilde ran into GBS. Shaw said that he was thinking of starting a new magazine. Wilde asked him what it would be called, to which he replied, "Shaw! Shaw! Shaw!"
"Oh. And how will you spell it?")