In Which Your Humble Blogger weeps with both grief and rage.
In Which Your Humble Blogger, as usual, is disagreeing with someone smarter, better informed, and more experienced.
In Which Your Humble Blogger complains about a thing, and does more research complaining about it than seems to have been done in the object of the complaint.
In Which Your Humble Blogger finds a little research to be a dangerous thing; drink deep or taste not the, er, really, in this case perhaps the drinking metaphor is not altogether appropriate.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is cranky, but hopes to be inspirationally cranky.
In Which Your Humble Blogger has standards, after all.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is probably wrong. Ah, well.
In Which Your Humble Blogger used to have long hair, too, but not what you might call recently.
In Which Your Humble Blogger something times something mores something,
Your Humble Blogger has some thoughts about irreplaceability running around in the old brainbox this week, and what’s a blog for if it’s not for writing those thoughts up and...
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