In which Your Humble Blogger is sad and afraid, but also grateful that there is someone to be so sad about, and whose protection has been so great that removing it is so scary.
In Which Your Humble Blogger also wonders what we are missing by not having the other goat, the one that doesn't live.
In which Your Humble Blogger wishes that we all be inscribed for a good year, and that we all endeavor to deserve it.
In Which Your Humble Blogger failed to work in the Martin Luther King, Jr. quote about how there is nothing more tragic than to sleep through a revolution.
In Which Your Humble Blogger promised the department chair not to do any mathematics, you know, professionally, but never promised not to ask other people to do them for me.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is still moved by participatory self-government, even in These Uncertain Times.
In Which Your Humble Blogger noticed the spine label was coming off, and flipped through the pages, or tried to.
In Which Your Humble Blogger covers his face in pride.
In Which Your Humble Blogger lay down and wept, and wept, and wept, for thee, Zion.
In Which Your Humble Blogger doesn't mean staring at those graphs all day, even though, yeah, pretty much all day.
