Spaldeen
In Which Your Humble Blogger isn’t quite nostalgiac, because I never played with them, but still.
Pirke Avot chapter two, verse nine: Yochanan
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In Which Your Humble Blogger may be writing this blog for just this moment. Or that one. Or the next one.
Ten Good Years
In Which Your Humble Blogger talks a little about himself, and a little about you.
Fucked-Up Poetry
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In Which Your Humble Blogger also like the one called Trowel, that began I have seen the best minds of my generation destroyed by DIY. But then, that was the whole thing (by Tony Curtis, but I don’t think that one), and that’s pretty much the end of that.
Book Report: Storm Front
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In Which Your Humble Blogger discusses the pleasures and perils of starting a series of books, and then gets all distracted, because-what?
Current Events, in hindsight
In Which Your Humble Blogger exposes his ignorance, to the shock and alarm of Gentle Readers everywhere, although not as much shock as would the exposure of some knowledge.
This train don’t stop for trainers, this train
In Which Your Humble Blogger gets the ranty ranty rant rant off the old chest, and feels better now. Except: Ooh!
Pirke Avot chapter two, verse eight: three in one
In Which Your Humble Blogger is making the international gesture for synthesis, even though Gentle Readers can’t see it.
Pirke Avot chapter two, verse eight: reputation and learning
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In Which Your Humble Blogger finds few answers and many questions.
Pirke Avot chapter two, verse eight: the good stuff next
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In Which Your Humble Blogger gets a little punchy, honestly, but we’re more than halfway through the verse.