In Which Your Humble Blogger likes a thing, even if he doesn’t like that sort of thing.
In Which Your Humble Blogger reveals his cultural illiteracy. Again.
In Which Your Humble Blogger talks about his own life, not the fictional lives in the book.
In Which Your Humble Blogger cannot decide if he is a rank or a file.
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 time is marching on, and time… is still marching on.
In Which Your Humble Blogger wanders the quiet aisles, which aren’t actually all that quiet, what with one thing and another. Shoosh! I shush you! Ah, never mind, keep chatting, at least you’re awake.
In Which Your Humble Blogger falls on his face and cries “Adonai is the Lord! Help me up, somebody!”
In Which Your Humble Blogger rants about presidential character and inexplicably does not mention cigars.