Numbers, numbers everywhere, nor any drop to drink
In Which Your Humble Blogger considers just telling people that the No voters are all slimeballs from that part of town.
In Which Your Humble Blogger considers just telling people that the No voters are all slimeballs from that part of town.
In Which Your Humble Blogger emerges from a log cabin, sees his shadow, and predicts five more months of presidential politics.
In Which Your Humble Blogger defends the basic principle of representative democracy: holding your nose.
In Which it’s the other fellow’s Party, and YHB will cry only if he wants to, which, frankly, I’m thinking, not so much.
In Which Your Humble Blogger tries to create a narrative to explain the bits of information about how we create narratives out of bits of information. I think.
In Which Your Humble Blogger goes on a bit without any real point. You know, like I do.
In Which Your Humble Blogger judges a leader by his followers, or rather, by fictional followers, who are easier to deal with.
In Which Your Humble Blogger has an idea and is too lazy to implement it. There’s a surprise for you.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is looking for a year. 1955? 1960? 1958? 1963?
In Which Your Humble Blogger looks at the kind of person who wins, and the other kind of person who wins.