Or something alone those lines. This episode is definitely delivered in a plain brown albeit virtual wrapper. You can read about it or listen about it, as suits your fancy. Or you can poke your eye out with a stick, if that's the way you roll.
We almost didn't make it this week. The Nostrumite is in a state of permanent depression over the dad-blamed guvmint, as he calls it. "You think they didn't do anything the last two years?" he says. "You ain't seen nothin' yet. Or, more to the point, you're going to see so much more nuthin' that the nuthin' you're seeing now will look like a beehive on methedrine."
Whatever. Me, I always vote for the Whigs and I expect nothing from our Lords and Masters aside from debt, taxes and a little TLC going through airport security. As my mother likes to say, wear clean underwear: you never know when you'll have to stand up for a body search.