Here in Chicago, there’s a little park called Bughouse Square, where, early in the last century, regular citizens literally stood on soap boxes and held forth on whatever subject they wanted, for whatever small crowd they could draw.
One of these bloggers’ ancesotors, according to the late writer Studs Terkel, was One-Arm Cholly Wendorf, who raised the stub of his right arm and declared, “You know where the rest of this is? Somewhere in France. Somewhere in a trench. … Cholly Wendorf’s arm is enrichin’ the soil that grows the grapes that bring you the best Cognac money can buy.”