lambasting the poor and ignorant of Nebraskashire was not cruel because I, despite my now elevated rank, was once so afflicted. therefore, I could astutely critique such a life.
the same is not true of the rusticates of Misboury. unable to speak with authority, my comments here have been altogether less diverting for me and assuredly tedious for readers, mere shadows of my former wit.
in short, my invectives are no longer so personally fulfilling.
though beneath my dignity to admit so, the demands of the next fortnight may require more even than I can provide.
I shall suspend my commentations on the churlish inhabitants of this district until after Easter, as the majority of the season's most exclusive social events take place during Holy Week.
T. H. White's King Arthur is not dissimilar to a certain former American President whose inheritance and ambition belied a genuinely simple nature.
yet the conscientious reader does not extend the metaphor further.
two characteristics clearly distinguish these men; White's King Arthur is not prideful and he is guided by the perpetually-retrospective Merlyn (rather than Uther Pendragon incarnate).
time away has afforded me a bit of perspective.
