I have always preferred Herodotus to Thucydides and Byron to Wordsworth.
That meant, that means, according to grad school criteria (don't you know), I am damned to frivolity, to the frivolous.
At least by association.
(Or, so they say.)
Terrible that I let old school judgments color my own thinking, my own self, now.
Hard to resist, I think.
My other response is to give in, to agree, via an essential insight:
ham-bone connected to the brain-bone.
