Category: navel gazing

In Which Your Humble Blogger is just blanking on that one you really like, you know, the funny one.

In Which Your Humble Blogger would like to state that it is my conviction that longer hair and other flamboyant affectations of appearance are nothing more than the male’s emergence from his drab camouflage into the gaudy plumage which is the birth right of his sex.

In Which Your Humble Blogger gets on the proper hobby horse, and not the one about Yorkshire coal mines in the twenties. Although, for crying out loud, people! Yorkshire! 1920s! Class struggle! Hellooooooo?

In Which Your Humble Blogger draws a historical parallel a trifle further.

In Which Your Humble Blogger just hates it. Oooh! It’s just wrong, is what.

In Which Your Humble Blogger does not somehow consider himself part of Left Blogovia, quite, even though, you know, still occasionally blogging, and still left of the proverbial.

In Which Your Humble Blogger regrets not finishing the note yesterday, but does not regret not finishing it the day before.

In Which Your Humble Blogger acknowledges that we didn’t so much finish the narrative, but we had a lot of fun before it petered out. Or at least I did.

In Which Your Humble Blogger is still here, and quite busy.

In Which Your Humble Blogger is honestly a little tired, but then I’m usually a little tired.