In Which Your Humble Blogger finds a story too good not to pass along, but does not vouch for its historical accuracy.
In Which Your Humble Blogger wishes that it just never happened, and I didn’t need to think about it.
Your Humble Blogger exposes himself, as it were.
In Which Your Humble Blogger finds a tremendous division of duty in a seven-word question.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is a bat who is a bird, in this case, and don’t you forget it.
In Which Your Humble Blogger heard a story from someone who used to work at the library where it happened, although not until after the bloodstains had been washed out.
In Which Your Gripy Blogger gripes.
In Which Your Humble Blogger just doesn’t get what’s so annoying about printers. Photocopiers, yes, with the paper jams and the light when people leave the lid up and so on. But printers?
In Which Your Humble Blogger beats his head against the desk, and then does the only really practical thing under the circumstances: makes tea.
In Which Your Humble Blogger looks for assistance, particularly concerning the date after which the Patron is no longer allowed to borrow stuff.