In Which Your Humble Blogger tries to say it.
In Which Your Humble Blogger recognizes the particular nature of Our Only President's genius, and its possible utility in the field of oh my lord we're all doomed just please don't start firing missiles
In Which Your Humble Blogger is pretty sure that in another twenty-five years, Angels in America will still be a pretty good demarcation line for before and after.
In Which Your Humble Blogger has progressive lenses now, which helps a lot.
In Which Your Humble Blogger does not even to a Top Five, but come on, Brain of Morbius is criminally underrated.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is unhappy all around.
Mametz Wood, by Owen Sheers
In Which Your Humble Blogger can actually do a pretty good impression of Geoff Boycott, if it comes to that.
In Which Your Humble Blogger would actually get cast in the contemporary one about the middle-aged man getting married, achieving the normal domestic life he never thought he wanted and finding out that it really is all that.
In Which Your Humble Blogger pronounces it properly the whole time, in case you were wondering, with the middle syllable of klee, not kyuh.
