In Which Your Humble Blogger is nobody, if anybody is.
In Which Your Humble Blogger can, in point of fact, spare a dime.
In Which Your Humble Blogger thinks things are, you know, bad.
In Which Your Humble Blogger finds that despair won't do. It won't, you know.
In Which Your Humble Blogger feels despondent, on occasion, and should really go outside and fly a kite.
In Which Your Humble Blogger feels that the somewhat-more-accurate-to-Ukrainian pronunciation that is newly fashionable scans much better than the old Yiddish-inflected pronunciation.
In Which Your Humble Blogger knows there are plenty of non-English news organizations in the US doing fine journalism today, but I don't see 'em.
In Which Your Humble Blogger doesn't want to hate anyone, really.
In Which Your Humble Blogger proposes that this House should take offense and give censure.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is verklempt. you know? Tho' they could have called it nachas night.
