In Which Your Humble Blogger wanted to write something better, but ran out of time.
In Which Your Humble Blogger tries to say it.
In Which Your Humble Blogger could perhaps have talked about the importance of the public sector in propping up a bourgeois-based economy, but it's so difficult to define 'class' coherently in a resource-based analysis of crony-capitalism.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is in fact aware that most teenagers weren't at the protests, but most teenagers weren't hippies or beatniks, either.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is frightened.
In Which Your Humble Blogger leaves out the probably irrelevant information that Zymon lived in Fremont for a couple of years, back in the nineties, working for an Israeli company on an H-1B visa. They were doing something Y2K related, although Zalmon had the impression that it was a front for Mossad. He never saw anything, mind you, and he figured it was better not to know, so when the contract was up, he went home.
In Which Your Humble Blogger would gladly hold the door so that it doesn’t hit anybody. I hate it when the door swings shut that fast anyway, you might want to have a look at the mechanism, frankly.
In Which Your Humble Blogger notes that the federal legislature has become like the weather in New England.
In which Your Humble Blogger does not present the quote entirely without comment.
In Which Your Humble Blogger should also point out that each individual program (and there are hundreds) will be judged politically against the others by how loud constituents scream.