In Which Your Humble Blogger postpones learning the lines that are going to be in the play to look at the ones that won’t.
In Which Your Humble Blogger runs away from the city of gold.
In Which Your Humble Blogger asks the opinion of Gentle Readers, without necessarily agreeing to abide by the group mind’s decision.
In Which Your Humble Blogger makes them all pay.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is undeserving, and means to go on being undeserving. I loike it, and ’at’s the troof.
In Which there is something Your Humble Blogger didn’t know, the silly ass.
In Which a Gentle Reader asks Your Humble Blogger for assistance from Gentle Readers.
In Which Your Humble Blogger, despite having decided that Mr. Mamet’s brain-dead screed wasn’t worth either arguing with or analyzing, steps into the dog shit.
In Which Your Humble Blogger seeks support and assistance from the Gentle Readers, who are, you know, Gentle, which is nice for me.
In Which Your Humble Blogger removes his glasses and—excuse me, ma’am—is revealed to be—whoops! No, I’ll clean that up—is revealed to be none other than—aaarrrrgh….