In Which Your Humble Blogger plunges on, because that’s what we do, isn’t it? We still have conversations about trees, even while we are preparing to go out to the airport to protest the vile and dangerous acts of Our Only President. And if Scripture has nothing for us in these dark times, it isn’t Scripture at all.
In Which Your Humble Blogger tries to tie together a couple of threads of thought but is not left with fewer loose ends.
In Which Your Humble Blogger also thinks that lights, sound, set design and construction, props, costumery and stage management are difficult jobs, and is glad that somebody else is willing to do those, too.
In Which Your Humble Blogger thinks there is more going on than meets the eye.
In Which Your Humble Blogger was sorely tempted to spend my time writing a note explaining that David Brooks was very wrong indeed, but you know, that is a thing the internet may not actually need another of.
In Which Your Humble Blogger imagines having to pick one single Cabinet nominee to block, and cries silently to himself.
In Which Your Humble Blogger has nuthin’, pretty much.
In Which Your Humble Blogger clapping hands tears of laughter computer mouse, bellhop poodle princess. Thinking face? One Hundred!
In Which Your Humble Blogger is too tired to work up rehearsal anecdotes into actual stories, and too verbose to relate ’em in a couple of sentences.