In Which Your Humble Blogger is stumped, although not as badly as England v. Windies today. Did you see that? I mean, that was just sad.
In Which Your Humble Blogger would rather have cake, please, if there’s any left.
In Which Your Humble Blogger inexplicably fails to make a dick joke.
In Which Your Humble Blogger returns after a couple of Avot-less weeks.
In which Your Humble Blogger finds it very difficult to avoid typing ‘night’ instead of ‘nigh’, but I think I’ve got them all now.
In Which Your Humble Blogger sits among the sages, or off to one side of the sages, actually most of the time in the next room, but in the house, or on the same side of the street, anyway.
In Which YHB actually likens the tyranny of Herod to a community theater.
In Which Your Humble Blogger mutters about translators and traitors.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is actually at work right now, writing this note in between helping people find their books, or more accurately, leading people through the grieving process when their books cannot be found.
In Which Your Humble Blogger tells a couple of stories.