In Which Your Humble Blogger didn’t get around to writing this note until the assignment was past due, but there’s always next year.
In Which Your Humble Blogger was going to pick out a Vicar of Dibley line for this pull-quote here, but couldn’t decide on one, and besides, Richard Curtis writes for the actors, so the lines often don’t work in print as well. Still.
In Which Your Humble Blogger asks around, plus a bonus application of dire economic whatsit.
In Which Your Humble Blogger has some buttons, and sometimes people press them. You know?
In Which Your Humble Blogger could rant about something that made a difference of some kind, rather than a nonsensical and meaningless PR stunt, but that might involve research.
In Which Your Humble Blogger just sits behind the desk and checks books in and out, so I don’t really have a dog in that proverbial, anyway.
In Which Your Humble Blogger has now pretty much given up on this season. Of course, I gave up on last season, too.
In Which Your Humble Blogger thought he posted this back on Saturday, but it looks like that didn’t happen. Still, last night’s game was a excellent example of the folly of trusting momentum.
In Which Your Humble Blogger may just be off-balance because of this damned summer cold.
In Which Your Humble Blogger will just post the story, at this point, and perhaps Gentle Readers will chime in with how it resonates with them.