In Which Your Humble Blogger would probably keep the part about the tontine, but honestly, that could go, too.
In Which Your Humble Blogger would absolutely eat an extra-long Farmer John hot dog (called D*dgerdogs at the park) in memory.
In Which Your Humble Blogger does not point out that the person in question ran for the same office two years ago and got twenty percent of the vote.
In Which Your Humble Blogger does find it amusing, in a terribly immature way, that MAGA is evidently acquiring low-quality but comically oversized horns in vast quantities.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is not hopeful, but then despair isn't much use either.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is all better now.
In Which Your Humble Blogger has genre problems.
In Which Your Humble Blogger has read some books, a couple of them on actual paper.
In Which Your Humble Blogger hates and fears change, particularly change for the worse.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is impressed.
