Outside the Room
In Which Your Humble Blogger returns to mansplain about mansplaining, because somebody has to.
In Which Your Humble Blogger returns to mansplain about mansplaining, because somebody has to.
In Which Your Humble Blogger has no ideas at all. Perhaps I’d better go back to sleep; I’m not on for another twenty pages yet.
In Which Your Humble Blogger has postponed the embiggening of this Tohu Bohu for long enough, even though (as the proverb goes) the more blogging the more mistrakes.
In Which Your Humble Blogger believes that the funniest journey begins with a single slip.
In Which Your Humble Blogger really, really likes democracy… and has to be pretty much willing to live with it.
In Which Your Humble Blogger used to do banks. Your Humble Blogger used to do bullion vaults. What is Your Humble Blogger doing now? Blogging.
In Which Your Humble Blogger chooses a slightly different sort of poem for the annual observance. Also, there are technical issues at present; don’t be alarmed, blogging will resume. Eventually.
In Which Your Humble Blogger exercises the franchise, because a muscular, flexible and generally fit franchise is better than a sedentary and flabby one.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is melancholy but not mad; bitter but not bathetic; snarky but not sensible.
In Which Your Humble Blogger wasn’t actually intending it as a Martin reference, but let it stand, let it stand.