In Which Your Humble Blogger kept shtum until it was all over, because, after all, the good guys should win even if I don't happen to be entirely on their side.
In Which Your Humble Blogger was surprised by how little dialogue there is in the series, actually.
In Which Your Humble Blogger actually read the whole transcript, which was pretty funny at times, including a great moment about Our Previous President and some shorts.
In Which Your Humble Blogger read some book over six months or so.
In Which Your Humble Blogger has the day off work.
In Which Your Humble Blogger once again provides a poem for the day.
In Which Your Humble Blogger also thinks there is something there about intermarriage and the People, and the intermingling of us and not-us and maybe-us and also of our own generation and its terrifying mix of degeneration and hope.
In Which Your Humble Blogger writes about May, but not about hedgerow tupping.
In Which Your Humble Blogger would also accept "Margaret of Anjou leading an army of the undead."
In Which Your Humble Blogger guides you to the set of doors on the left, halfway up the building, then on the main floor your right.
