We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
The Glorious Revolution was in many ways England’s great gift to the world. It established those fundamental principles of good governance which best allow man to achieve and to exercise his fundamental rights.
The Glorious Twelfth used to be August 12 in Britain and Scotland, when the hunting season for certain game birds started. And boyohboy was it a slaughter on some of the great estates. Hundreds of birds were shot, after 'the beaters' rousted them out of their hidey holes. And it was the "star turn" for many of the lengthy houseparties of the idle rich.
I wouldn't have liked the bird slaughter very much, but the parties described in contemporary accounts sound, um, interesting. One of Agatha Christie's books describes one such houseparty.