Your Humble Blogger usually observes Armistice Day with a certain mournful bitterness I think appropriate to the occasion. Today, for some reason, I’m reaching toward a more wistful emotion, and as such, present this, from the handsomest man in England,…
Well, and so far, what has happened? Mr. Jefferson and his fellows have established that they speak with sixteen kinds of authority, they have established that they are not out for their own profit, they have established that they speak…
I don’t like, here in this Tohu Bohu, to spend too much time whining about annoying columnists. I don’t, on the whole, go in for Fisking. Much of the Fisking that I see is just cheap mockery, and although I…
Black Brillion is a pretty good book, not great, flawed, but fun and inventive. It’s a mishmash of genres—the mismatched pair of cops, the witty banter, the deep and symbolic Jungian philosophy, the mystery, the trippy anything-goes far future fantasy,…
And, as mentioned before, I read A Flea in Her Ear, to see if it would be a good idea to stage. Enh. I read the John Mortimer adaptation; perhaps one of the others is funnier. I doubt it, somehow….
For those Gentle Readers who really care, the play referred to previously which saw Your Humble Blogger back on the boards is The Man Who Came to Dinner, and it is not too late to see it. Email me if…
Well, and I voted yesterday, and my Best Reader voted yesterday, and I drove a voter to the polls who probably would have driven herself to the polls but might well have forgotten. I also had a short and shallow…
Election Day, November, 1884, by Walt Whitman, from Leaves of Grass, Book XXXIV: Sands at Seventy. If I should need to name, O Western World, your powerfulest scene and show, ‘Twould not be you, Niagara–nor you, ye limitless prairies–nor your…
It hasn’t mentioned it here (this Tohu Bohu is, on the whole, reticent about the personal life), but Your Humble Blogger was in a local Community Theater production. Community Theaters being what they are, toward the end of the rehearsal…
Your Humble Blogger happened to surf over to a Washington Monthly essay by Christopher Lehmann called Why Americans can’t write political fiction. Um … they can’t? What Mr. Lehmann means, I think, is that there aren’t very many political novels…