Two Articles, a million problems
In Which Your Humble Blogger frankly thinks the whole thing is fucked up beyond repair, and doesn’t even know what a repaired thing would look like.
In Which Your Humble Blogger frankly thinks the whole thing is fucked up beyond repair, and doesn’t even know what a repaired thing would look like.
In Which Your Humble Blogger requires the translation skills of Barbara Billingsley.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is a fifth type, the kind that remembers two of the types and forgets the other one. Two. Isn’t it easier to divide the world into only two types of people?
In Which Your Humble Blogger thinks that Left Blogovia should start calling him Mitte, for no reason whatsoever.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is aware that everybody else who might possibly care may have thought this was totally obvious thirty years ago.
In Which Your Humble Blogger should really leave off these serious gripey posts and write something lightly amusing about popular culture. We still have a popular culture, don’t we?
In Which Your Humble Blogger is slow to post and quick to, um, mutter to myself?
In Which Your Humble Blogger is terribly unfair to a guest on a radio show, who from all evidence other than one flippant comment is a very clever person who knows what she is on about, and who we can all agree is much, much more informed than YHB.
In Which Your Humble Blogger cannot make a dress out of a feed bag and cannot make a man out of you, but then neither is he a bad mother—
In Which Your Humble Blogger remembers that David S. Bernstein wrote something in the Phoenix that might have been relevant, but that could have been any time in the last ten years, and their search isn’t that great.