In Which Your Humble Blogger is disappointed.
In Which Your Humble Blogger, in this internet world, spends the day reading from the Martin Luther King archives.
In Which Your Humble Blogger was torn between “petulant fuckery” and “mendacious fuckery”, but decided that even though the mendaciousness is more important, it’s the petulance that really gets up the old nostrils. Also, I wanted the word “entitled” in there, but neither “petulant entitled fuckery” nor “entitled petulant fuckery” rolls smoothly off the fingers.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is writing a blog note, so that’ll fix everything.
In Which Your Humble Blogger doesn’t mean snickers in the derisive laughter sense but in the caramel, peanuts and nougat in chocolate sense. Mmmmmmm, nougat.
In Which Your Humble Blogger can’t really make the argument that The Monkey Wrench Gang is better known than the others. Still, I’d heard of it.
In Which Your Humble Blogger fails to relate the story of the middle-school teacher who said that she now had so much information from so many tests that she could identify with certainty the students who would succeed in her advanced algebra class. Absolute certainty. Without, really, the opportunity to justify taking a flyer on some kids that might make the cut. Alas.
In Which Your Humble Blogger knows very well why not Hartford, but still. Why not Hartford?
In Which Your Humble Blogger thinks it would make a good movie, although it would be difficult to decide where it begins and ends.
In Which Your Humble Blogger may have found a lost mine.