In Which Your Humble Blogger is perhaps too panicked about the upcoming widespread political violence and the droughts to panic sufficiently about the pandemic right now.
In Which Your Humble Blogger muses about the good old days, probably, I mean, they must have been, right? Stands to reason.
In which Your Humble Blogger is occasionally despondent about the future of the nation.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is still feeling very Whitman.
In Which Your Humble Blogger still thinks that being the Party that likes it when people vote seems like a Good Thing.
In Which Your Humble Blogger really doesn't much like the whole virtual table read form, but would totally change my mind for this imaginary event.
In Which Your Humble Blogger writes it out. Maybe it'll help? Maybe YHB will feel better for it? Maybe.
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.
