Book Report: Touchstone
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In Which there is nothin’ but spoilers.
Thank you for whatever you’re smoking
In Which, honestly, if YHB had to go over to Henry Kissinger’s house every Christmas and sit around with him and William F. Buckley all afternoon, YHB might start hallucinating about politics, too. But then, would the New York Times print my rambling visions?
And then next year, Chief Justice Day!
In Which Your Humble Blogger has difficulty trying to tag the note with a category. It’s not about politics as such, nor (except indirectly) about rhetoric (and everything is indirectly about rhetoric), nor is it either a Puff Piece or a Hatchet Job. It’s definitely not about literature, film or music, or Scripture or baseball. Perhaps I need a category for things that strike me as amusing.
Indications are that this stinks
In Which Your Humble Blogger was feeling a bit better, but some things just make me sick all over again.
Haftorah Tetzaveh
In Which Your Humble Blogger skips some of the forms and the fashions and the goings out and the comings in and the forms and the ordinances and the laws. Is that OK?
Fundamentalish
In Which YHB sticks to fundamentals
Book Report: Spiderwick Book One, The Field Guide
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In Which Your Humble Blogger is brief and to the point, if I had one.
Observation nation
In Which Your Humble Blogger doesn’t even like beets.
May Def, Milestone Day, morris dance, mean distance, mister disaster, million dollar, must die
In Which Your Humble Blogger is sick again, damn it, and doesn’t see why anybody else should have a good time, particularly those jerks from New Mexico. Forty-seven, pah.
Psmith, Zombie
In Which Your Humble Blogger wonders about Baxter’s brains, which although impressive, might be a trifle gamey.