A Vast Wasteland of Prosperity

Yesterday my husband threatened to drown himself in the shower, if I didn’t stop ranting about the stupid things people believe about history. It’s not that he disagreed, mind you, but that he thought it was too much to endure a graduate-level lecture with side-excursions into various examples he’d never heard about before even getting his pants on in the morning.

I sympathize. It’s been a long time since I became aware that when that darn, mobile soap box finds me and gets under my feet, I g...