In Which Your Humble Blogger supposes that there was only enough room on the shop's bar code label for 37 characters, not 38, but really, that e is silent, so why wouldn't you leave it off?
In Which Your Humble Blogger is downhearted, but there is hope.
In Which Your Humble Blogger overheard someone claiming to be the ninety-nine percent, and thought—hey, me too!
In Which Your Humble Blogger observes Memorial Day, 2019
In Which Your Humble Blogger played Barrymore's ghost, in the past.
In Which Your Humble Blogger has a point, but really, just, y'know, don't be an asshole.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is disappointed and afraid and has no sense at all of where to go from here.
In Which Your Humble Blogger thinks this probably connects to the variation-within/variation-between misconception, but it's not immediately obvious how.
In Which Your Humble Blogger rambles for a while, parleyvoo; Your Humble Blogger rambles for a while, parleyvoo; Your Humble Blogger rambles for a while and then asks for your input on an important question, hinky-dinky-parleyvoo.
In Which Your Humble Blogger would also enjoy your recommendations, Gentle Reader, if you have ’em.
