In Which Your Humble Blogger could be wrong in the basic assumption, of course, but it's not clear how much that would even matter.
In Which Your Humble Blogger rises.
In Which Your Humble Blogger does not point out that the person in question ran for the same office two years ago and got twenty percent of the vote.
In Which Your Humble Blogger contemplates how words have different connotations over time, and for different people, too.
In Which Your Humble Blogger has just one more question, sir, I'm sorry, I hate to take up your time.
In Which Your Humble Blogger thinks too many people are answering that question, and not enough people are asking it.
An Irish Airman Foresees His Death, by W. B. Yeats
In Which Your Humble Blogger knows that a lot of stuff crossed the line, but also might like to move the line itself.
In Which Your Humble Blogger thought the real highlight was the snip-snip excerpt from Ecclesiastes.
In Which Your Humble Blogger overheard someone claiming to be the ninety-nine percent, and thought—hey, me too!
