Cruz, Rubio, Trump
In Which Your Humble Blogger is not a betting man, but who am I kidding, I’ll put ten on Ted Cruz at six-to-five against, would consider a dollar on Trump at 12-to-1.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is not a betting man, but who am I kidding, I’ll put ten on Ted Cruz at six-to-five against, would consider a dollar on Trump at 12-to-1.
In Which Your Humble Blogger makes the easy prediction, but uneasily.
In Which Your Humble Blogger says it, and having said it…
In Which it is, Your Humble Blogger supposes, just barely possible that some Gentle Reader has this on their aggregator and will see it, and be reminded—if not reminded to vote, perhaps reminded to enjoy voting.
So, I know that it was a week ago and that the note fell in the forest without anyone paying any attention to it, but I was intrigued by Paul Waldman’s declaration of The Death of Dog-Whistle Politics. In it,…
In Which Your Humble Blogger returns to mansplain about mansplaining, because somebody has to.
In Which Your Humble Blogger really, really likes democracy… and has to be pretty much willing to live with it.
In Which Your Humble Blogger exercises the franchise, because a muscular, flexible and generally fit franchise is better than a sedentary and flabby one.
In Which Your Humble Blogger would be enjoying the view much more if—can I mention that my place of employment can’t hire new custodial staff during the shutdown (evidently because of some background-check requirements that are state law) and that the wastebaskets aren’t being emptied?
In Which Your Humble Blogger does believe the Affordable Care Act is a Big Fucking Deal, but not that big.