In Which Your Humble Blogger likes one, and if you like one, why not try two, and if you like two, you might as well have four, and if you like four, why not a few, why not a slew, why not more!
In Which Your Humble Blogger celebrates Loving and Loving, and loving.
In Which Your Humble Blogger will take even fictitious victories, although, to be clear, four games above .500 isn’t bad for a team that stinks as bad as we do.
In Which Your Humble Blogger decides that if I read one play out of a collection, I should blog it as a single play, rather than ignoring it.
In Which Your Humble Blogger politely asks that none of you mention this to my Best Reader, who I probably should have asked first.
In Which Your Humble Blogger has nothing. Nothing at all. Beans. Pebbles. Sausage. Nuttin.
In Which Your Humble Blogger has a very vivid memory of the illustration of this one in the book I learned from as a child.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is taken for a ride, up in the air on a big silver bird.
In Which Your Humble Blogger loves work and could watch it all day.
In Which Your Humble Blogger doesn’t actually think that it would work; if you get further left than, say, Chris Dodd, you just fall out of the public discourse altogether. Isn’t that right, Rep. Rangel?