In Which Your Humble Blogger has said all this before, and undoubtedly will again. The question is whether that repetition is enjoyable or dull, comfortable or, um, what’s that thing.
In Which Your Humble Blogger dwells in his mind on the Giants’ ten thousand, four hundred and thirty-six regular-season victories, the most of any franchise in any sport in the history of historic history.
In Which Your Humble Blogger has only had one crush on another fellow, which is not a lot for a highly susceptible guy,
In Which Your Humble Blogger is slowly, slowly starting to catch up.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is still perplexed about the book, and then my memory of the specifics has started to fade, too.
In Which Your Humble Blogger can just exult a little, without having to write that end-of-the-season post I was thinking about.
In Which Your Humble Blogger can’t see exactly how to work in a joke about the private eye, or the private vee eye, so mentions it in the pull quote so nobody will think it went unnoticed.
In Which Your Humble Blogger will gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today. No, really, I will. Maybe.
In Which Your Humble Blogger goes back for another bite and the proverbial.
In Which Your Humble Blogger reads an old one.