Miss Lonelyhearts

I apologize for the lack of updates but I have been handling the bulk of the email and IM reference and it’s been much more physically and emotionally draining than I could have ever anticipated. This electronic reference seems to reach a whole new…class of patrons and sometimes the magnitude of their problems, desperation and witlessness fills with me with this sort of despairing wonder. They're just so lost. I’m certainly not going to let their questions get to me until they destroy me like Nathanael West's Miss Lonelyhearts, but they certainly have sapped my vitality and creative energy while I’ve been shoring up and fortifying my boundaries.

Anyway, here are some choice samples. Details have been changed to protect the patron, and I have also have made an attempt to clean up the spelling and grammar for your sanity as well as mine.

Patron:
Patron: : i got this girl pregnant and today her other baby's daddy gets out of jail and is just crazy. If he beat her up so she lost the baby would I be able to press charges? Even if she didn’t want to? Like if he kicked her or threw her down the stairs or something?

These two just seemed like shit-smeared pungi stick lined traps set by extremists. I wouldn’t touch them with a ten foot pole and instead directed them to Planned Parenthood.

Patron: i live in XXXXX county people tell me an abortion can be done within 3 months, others say up to 5 months. i need to find a place that will do abortion at 7 months

Patron: My daughter is 16 and I want her to have an abortion but she won’t. Can I force her?

Medical Emergencies:
Patron:Hello. My father-in-law accidentally ate all of our dog’s Heartguard flea and heart worm medication. Is it poisonous? It says keep out of reach of children.

Librarian: GET OFF IM AND CALL POISON CONTROL IMMEDIATELY 1-800-222-1222

The “All in the Family” or “My Bitch ex-wife” category. Oftentimes these are written in ALLCAPS. These are always referred to legal aid.

Patron: CAN A PERSON WITHHOLD VISITATION EVEN THOUGH THEY HAVE A COURT ORDER? THE LAST TIME I TRIED TO PICK UP THE KIDS THEY WOULDN’T LET ME IN FROM THE PORCH. SHE HAS A RESTRAINING ORDER AGAINST ME BUT THE SHERIFF’S OFFICE IS REAL CORRUPT HERE

Patron: How do I enforce visitation when the other party won't open the door even for the sheriff?


Patron: I have been paying child support for 15 years for a child that is not mine never signed birth certifi cate, even though I was married. Is there a law that states if you are not the biological father and can prove it do you still have to pay and can I get refunded.

Patron: A temporary Restraining Order was granted against me. However,a permanent order was not granted. How can I get this erased. My employer requires background checks and I don't want this to come up.

Patron: Can I appeal a judges order to change child custody orders if I feel I was misunderstood and my ex wife lied?

In any case, I used to think the grotesque characters of Flannery O’Connor and Nathanial West were a lot funnier than I do now that I'm dealing with them. But I do have to say that I am still in awe at the brilliance of West naming Miss Lonelyheart’s cynical, tormenting boss, Shrike. Shrike, who sadistically revels in disillusioning and destroying any religious or romantic notions Miss Lonelyhearts may express, shares a name with a carnivorous bird that impales its prey on thorns. The shrike, also known as the butcher bird, uses the thorn as leverage to tear its prey apart as well as handy storage for the little corpse. Mother Nature is one strange bitch.

Miss Lonelyhearts

I apologize for the lack of updates but I have been handling the bulk of the email and IM reference and it’s been much more physically and emotionally draining than I could have ever anticipated. This electronic reference seems to reach a whole new…class of patrons and sometimes the magnitude of their problems, desperation and witlessness fills with me with this sort of despairing wonder. They're just so lost. I’m certainly not going to let their questions get to me until they destroy me like Nathanael West's Miss Lonelyhearts, but they certainly have sapped my vitality and creative energy while I’ve been shoring up and fortifying my boundaries.

Anyway, here are some choice samples. Details have been changed to protect the patron, and I have also have made an attempt to clean up the spelling and grammar for your sanity as well as mine.

Patron:
Patron: : i got this girl pregnant and today her other baby's daddy gets out of jail and is just crazy. If he beat her up so she lost the baby would I be able to press charges? Even if she didn’t want to? Like if he kicked her or threw her down the stairs or something?

These two just seemed like shit-smeared pungi stick lined traps set by extremists. I wouldn’t touch them with a ten foot pole and instead directed them to Planned Parenthood.

Patron: i live in XXXXX county people tell me an abortion can be done within 3 months, others say up to 5 months. i need to find a place that will do abortion at 7 months

Patron: My daughter is 16 and I want her to have an abortion but she won’t. Can I force her?

Medical Emergencies:
Patron:Hello. My father-in-law accidentally ate all of our dog’s Heartguard flea and heart worm medication. Is it poisonous? It says keep out of reach of children.

Librarian: GET OFF IM AND CALL POISON CONTROL IMMEDIATELY 1-800-222-1222

The “All in the Family” or “My Bitch ex-wife” category. Oftentimes these are written in ALLCAPS. These are always referred to legal aid.

Patron: CAN A PERSON WITHHOLD VISITATION EVEN THOUGH THEY HAVE A COURT ORDER? THE LAST TIME I TRIED TO PICK UP THE KIDS THEY WOULDN’T LET ME IN FROM THE PORCH. SHE HAS A RESTRAINING ORDER AGAINST ME BUT THE SHERIFF’S OFFICE IS REAL CORRUPT HERE

Patron: How do I enforce visitation when the other party won't open the door even for the sheriff?


Patron: I have been paying child support for 15 years for a child that is not mine never signed birth certifi cate, even though I was married. Is there a law that states if you are not the biological father and can prove it do you still have to pay and can I get refunded.

Patron: A temporary Restraining Order was granted against me. However,a permanent order was not granted. How can I get this erased. My employer requires background checks and I don't want this to come up.

Patron: Can I appeal a judges order to change child custody orders if I feel I was misunderstood and my ex wife lied?

In any case, I used to think the grotesque characters of Flannery O’Connor and Nathanial West were a lot funnier than I do now that I'm dealing with them. But I do have to say that I am still in awe at the brilliance of West naming Miss Lonelyheart’s cynical, tormenting boss, Shrike. Shrike, who sadistically revels in disillusioning and destroying any religious or romantic notions Miss Lonelyhearts may express, shares a name with a carnivorous bird that impales its prey on thorns. The shrike, also known as the butcher bird, uses the thorn as leverage to tear its prey apart as well as handy storage for the little corpse. Mother Nature is one strange bitch.

More Rave Reviews from our Patrons

From a popular on-line review site...

A junkie in the bathroom asked me to help her shoot up as she attempted to simultaneously wrap a slender piece of rubberized hose around her bicep, tugging at it with her teeth and holding a disgustingly dirty needle in the other hand. I'm nice but I ain't that nice...

The crazies will talk to each other out loud here and then bitch about the librarians talking! i was told by someone who witnessed this guy running in to the library holding his butt and headed straight to the bathroom. unfortunately the men's room was closed for cleaning and the guy still holding his butt started to kick and scream at the bathroom door. He had to be escorted out of the library.

More Rave Reviews from our Patrons

From a popular on-line review site...

A junkie in the bathroom asked me to help her shoot up as she attempted to simultaneously wrap a slender piece of rubberized hose around her bicep, tugging at it with her teeth and holding a disgustingly dirty needle in the other hand. I'm nice but I ain't that nice...

The crazies will talk to each other out loud here and then bitch about the librarians talking! i was told by someone who witnessed this guy running in to the library holding his butt and headed straight to the bathroom. unfortunately the men's room was closed for cleaning and the guy still holding his butt started to kick and scream at the bathroom door. He had to be escorted out of the library.

Pearls of God

A patron keeps pestering us about when the library's copy of The Encyclopedia of Serial Killers will be available for circulation. True crime is a popular subject - we can hardly keep Ann Rule books on the shelves - and many patrons, including sweet little old ladies with a twinkle in their eye I have come to recognize as bloodthirsty, are serial killer/sensational murder enthusiasts. This patron’s overweening passion for such a grisly subject, however, gives even the most imperturbable and beyond caring burnt out of us pause. Although I would definitely classify him as misfit loner, he seems to be a nice enough guy (as the neighbors always say), but he smells eye wateringly bad - like carrion, to be exact. Perhaps that's from all the bodies of his victims that he keeps plastered up in his walls “for company.”

Recently, another patron approached the desk wearing filth caked rags he probably hadn’t changed out of since the first Bush administration. He looked like some raving, wild eyed prophet and after we could catch our breathe I said to my colleague, “He smelled like an anchorite!” Oh, the Middle Ages... Supposedly at the height of that unfortunate fad in early Christianity, Europe and the Holy Land were lousy with anchorites and stylites. Reportedly, they stank so wretchedly that people could smell them for miles.

From Sex and Salvation by Margaret Bhatty:
Since sex depends heavily on the chemistry of sex appeal, those anxious for their souls rendered themselves as unattractive as possible. Adornment and finery was of the devil, while bathing was a sin. Anchorites, fleeing temptation by women, lived in the wilderness unwashed for the rest of their lives. St. Abraham, "a man of singular beauty", fled on his wedding night and never washed for the next fifty years. The dirt on his person "reflected the purity of his soul." Body odour was called "the odour of sanctity" and lice, "the pearls of God." Those celibates who couldn't live in the wilderness, climbed to the top of tall columns and were called stylites. Up there they were assured of being free from the contact with women which could put their souls at risk.

Sweet Jesus, the closer I walk with thee! I can’t wait to call security to report a patron flicking “pearls of God” from his body at passersby in the magazines area. For further entertaining reading about some of the gross, fleshly-mortification-and- debasement-as-a-route to holiness notions in early Christianity, please read Holy Feast, Holy Fast. It contains a nauseating yet riveting section about a favorite custom of saint wannabes: sucking the pus out of and plucking and eating the scabs off of lepers. From what I can gather, those saints were quite competitive, always trying to one up each other in the gross out department. One profiled saint, Angelina of Folina, claimed she found the leper pus “as sweet as the communion.” Not to be outdone, Catherine of Siena boasted, "Never in my life have I tasted any food and drink sweeter or more exquisite than this pus." In any case, those girls make that albino with his cilice in The Da Vinci code look like a total pussy.

Pearls of God

A patron keeps pestering us about when the library's copy of The Encyclopedia of Serial Killers will be available for circulation. True crime is a popular subject - we can hardly keep Ann Rule books on the shelves - and many patrons, including sweet little old ladies with a twinkle in their eye I have come to recognize as bloodthirsty, are serial killer/sensational murder enthusiasts. This patron’s overweening passion for such a grisly subject, however, gives even the most imperturbable and beyond caring burnt out of us pause. Although I would definitely classify him as misfit loner, he seems to be a nice enough guy (as the neighbors always say), but he smells eye wateringly bad - like carrion, to be exact. Perhaps that's from all the bodies of his victims that he keeps plastered up in his walls “for company.”

Recently, another patron approached the desk wearing filth caked rags he probably hadn’t changed out of since the first Bush administration. He looked like some raving, wild eyed prophet and after we could catch our breathe I said to my colleague, “He smelled like an anchorite!” Oh, the Middle Ages... Supposedly at the height of that unfortunate fad in early Christianity, Europe and the Holy Land were lousy with anchorites and stylites. Reportedly, they stank so wretchedly that people could smell them for miles.

From Sex and Salvation by Margaret Bhatty:
Since sex depends heavily on the chemistry of sex appeal, those anxious for their souls rendered themselves as unattractive as possible. Adornment and finery was of the devil, while bathing was a sin. Anchorites, fleeing temptation by women, lived in the wilderness unwashed for the rest of their lives. St. Abraham, "a man of singular beauty", fled on his wedding night and never washed for the next fifty years. The dirt on his person "reflected the purity of his soul." Body odour was called "the odour of sanctity" and lice, "the pearls of God." Those celibates who couldn't live in the wilderness, climbed to the top of tall columns and were called stylites. Up there they were assured of being free from the contact with women which could put their souls at risk.

Sweet Jesus, the closer I walk with thee! I can’t wait to call security to report a patron flicking “pearls of God” from his body at passersby in the magazines area. For further entertaining reading about some of the gross, fleshly-mortification-and- debasement-as-a-route to holiness notions in early Christianity, please read Holy Feast, Holy Fast. It contains a nauseating yet riveting section about a favorite custom of saint wannabes: sucking the pus out of and plucking and eating the scabs off of lepers. From what I can gather, those saints were quite competitive, always trying to one up each other in the gross out department. One profiled saint, Angelina of Folina, claimed she found the leper pus “as sweet as the communion.” Not to be outdone, Catherine of Siena boasted, "Never in my life have I tasted any food and drink sweeter or more exquisite than this pus." In any case, those girls make that albino with his cilice in The Da Vinci code look like a total pussy.

IM Reference: Last Refuge of the Shiftless Student

Patron:I need you to tell me what photosynthesis is.

Librarian: From Encarta: Photosynthesis, process by which green plants and certain other organisms use the energy of light to convert carbon dioxide and water into the simple sugar glucose. In so doing, photosynthesis provides the basic energy source for virtually all organisms. An extremely important byproduct of photosynthesis is oxygen, on which most organisms depend.

Patron: But I need it in your own words

Librarian: What grade are you in? Do you want a definition that might be easier to understand? Would you like the definition from World Book, a children’s encyclopedia?

Patron: 7th. Just give it to me in your own words. I need it in your own words

Librarian: Is this for a homework assignment?

Patron: GIVE IT TO ME IN YOUR OWN WORDS

Librarian: Sorry, I provided you with the definition. I’m not going to do your homework assignment for you. Anything else I can help you with?

Patron signed off

IM Reference, last refuge of the profoundly lazy

Patron: I need some facts about President Wilson

Librarian: Here are some quick facts from Encarta:
Lowered tariff rates and established a federal income tax with the Underwood Tariff of 1913.
Established the Federal Reserve System in 1914 to supervise and regulate banks.
Asked Congress to declare war on Germany on April 2, 1917, after many diplomatic attempts to end World War I.
Signed peace treaty with Germany to end World War I in 1919.
Received the 1919 Nobel Peace Prize for efforts to end World War I and to establish the League of Nations.
1902-1910 Served as president of Princeton University.
1911-1913 Served as governor of New Jersey.
1913-1921 President of the United States.
Wilson allowed sheep to graze on the White House lawn during World War I; their wool helped raise money for the Red Cross.
Wilson was the first president to cross the Atlantic Ocean while in office.
Wilson established the practice of holding regular presidential press conferences.

Patron: I just need 5. Pick out the five best facts and give them to me.

Librarian: I gave you five facts. Pick out the ones you want.

Patron: I just want five facts that are the best.

Librarian: I gave you the material. It’s up to you to judge which ones you need. Please don’t ask me to do your homework.

Patron signed off

IM Reference: Last Refuge of the Shiftless Student

Patron:I need you to tell me what photosynthesis is.

Librarian: From Encarta: Photosynthesis, process by which green plants and certain other organisms use the energy of light to convert carbon dioxide and water into the simple sugar glucose. In so doing, photosynthesis provides the basic energy source for virtually all organisms. An extremely important byproduct of photosynthesis is oxygen, on which most organisms depend.

Patron: But I need it in your own words

Librarian: What grade are you in? Do you want a definition that might be easier to understand? Would you like the definition from World Book, a children’s encyclopedia?

Patron: 7th. Just give it to me in your own words. I need it in your own words

Librarian: Is this for a homework assignment?

Patron: GIVE IT TO ME IN YOUR OWN WORDS

Librarian: Sorry, I provided you with the definition. I’m not going to do your homework assignment for you. Anything else I can help you with?

Patron signed off

IM Reference, last refuge of the profoundly lazy

Patron: I need some facts about President Wilson

Librarian: Here are some quick facts from Encarta:
Lowered tariff rates and established a federal income tax with the Underwood Tariff of 1913.
Established the Federal Reserve System in 1914 to supervise and regulate banks.
Asked Congress to declare war on Germany on April 2, 1917, after many diplomatic attempts to end World War I.
Signed peace treaty with Germany to end World War I in 1919.
Received the 1919 Nobel Peace Prize for efforts to end World War I and to establish the League of Nations.
1902-1910 Served as president of Princeton University.
1911-1913 Served as governor of New Jersey.
1913-1921 President of the United States.
Wilson allowed sheep to graze on the White House lawn during World War I; their wool helped raise money for the Red Cross.
Wilson was the first president to cross the Atlantic Ocean while in office.
Wilson established the practice of holding regular presidential press conferences.

Patron: I just need 5. Pick out the five best facts and give them to me.

Librarian: I gave you five facts. Pick out the ones you want.

Patron: I just want five facts that are the best.

Librarian: I gave you the material. It’s up to you to judge which ones you need. Please don’t ask me to do your homework.

Patron signed off

Invaluable Advice from Officer Trudy Wiegel

Addressing a school assembly on safety... Now, girls, I don't care if you wear mini-skirts. I don't care if you wear Dungarees. I don't care if you're good at basketball, I don't care if you're fun to be around. But you can rest assured that every one of you, at some point, is going to be raped. And your doctor will give you some good news. Gold pot at the end of the rainbow, you're pregnant. And you're having triplets.

Trudy's Myspace.
From her blog:
Monday, December 18, 2006
A very dark day
Well, I finally got that potato chip from ebay that I've been bidding on and it's amazing! It REALLY DOES look like you can see Oprah's face in it! There are two little dark spots that look just like her eyes and a rippled part on top that looks like her hair before she got a weave and lost all that weight. The bad news is that I sucked it up in the vaccuum this morning when I was cleaning up some cat vomit. Eleven goddam dollars down the drain. Not to mention the sentimental value. A little piece of my heart got sucked up into that vaccuum this morning:(


More Trudy.

Invaluable Advice from Officer Trudy Wiegel

Addressing a school assembly on safety... Now, girls, I don't care if you wear mini-skirts. I don't care if you wear Dungarees. I don't care if you're good at basketball, I don't care if you're fun to be around. But you can rest assured that every one of you, at some point, is going to be raped. And your doctor will give you some good news. Gold pot at the end of the rainbow, you're pregnant. And you're having triplets.

Trudy's Myspace.
From her blog:
Monday, December 18, 2006
A very dark day
Well, I finally got that potato chip from ebay that I've been bidding on and it's amazing! It REALLY DOES look like you can see Oprah's face in it! There are two little dark spots that look just like her eyes and a rippled part on top that looks like her hair before she got a weave and lost all that weight. The bad news is that I sucked it up in the vaccuum this morning when I was cleaning up some cat vomit. Eleven goddam dollars down the drain. Not to mention the sentimental value. A little piece of my heart got sucked up into that vaccuum this morning:(


More Trudy.

Statcounter Fun

Hello and welcome to my recent visitor from Stillwater, Oklahoma using Chickasaw Telecommunications Services, Inc! I can see from Statcounter that you stumbled across my site using the key words "HUSTLER BEAVER HUNT" but instead of amateur hardcore found my humble, porn free (mostly) blog instead. I do consider it the highest compliment that you stayed for a spell, and even visited some of my archives. In fact, I'll take that as the most glowing endorsement of my site yet.

I feel like Jack Horner, the adult film director from Boogie Nights, whose heart's desire was to produce a porno with such a compelling story that the viewer would sit through the entire movie.

Here's a search tip, though. When surfing for hardcore sites of unairbrushed, home groomed hoo-has be sure to switch off the Google Safe Search option, which I can see you have on. Otherwise all of those pictures of overtweaked, methy punani will continue to elude you.

Statcounter Fun

Hello and welcome to my recent visitor from Stillwater, Oklahoma using Chickasaw Telecommunications Services, Inc! I can see from Statcounter that you stumbled across my site using the key words "HUSTLER BEAVER HUNT" but instead of amateur hardcore found my humble, porn free (mostly) blog instead. I do consider it the highest compliment that you stayed for a spell, and even visited some of my archives. In fact, I'll take that as the most glowing endorsement of my site yet.

I feel like Jack Horner, the adult film director from Boogie Nights, whose heart's desire was to produce a porno with such a compelling story that the viewer would sit through the entire movie.

Here's a search tip, though. When surfing for hardcore sites of unairbrushed, home groomed hoo-has be sure to switch off the Google Safe Search option, which I can see you have on. Otherwise all of those pictures of overtweaked, methy punani will continue to elude you.

The Banality of Evil

“Library information, may I help you?”

“Girl, NO WAY! What a ho!”

“Information, how may I help you?”

“Wait a minute. I’m on a bus. Can you hear me?”

“Just barely.”

“Just wait a minute and the people next to me should quiet down”

More screaming and laughing.

“Perhaps this isn’t a good time. Why don’t you call me back when you’re somewhere I can hear you.”

“NOOO! I need to know if you have the following books and it’s really important!”

“What are they?”

“Introduction to Economics: Principles, Problems and Philosophies, Understanding Psychology, Que Tal, a Basic Introduction to Spanish…

“These are textbooks, aren’t they?”

“Yes.

“I’m going to be honest with you. We usually don’t carry them, especially the most current edition that your teacher will require, but I’ll be happy to go ahead and check the catalog.”

Not surprisingly, we didn’t have any on his long list.

“Couldn’t I get them through interlibrary loan?” he asked in a pouty, put out tone.

“You could try, but know that interlibrary loan books can take 4-6 weeks. Books also have to be over a year old to be eligible for interlibrary loan."

“But all these text books are really expensive and I don’t have any money. What am I supposed to do? Why don’t you check all of the surrounding library systems?”

“I’ve already been on the phone with you for five minutes and I need to take other calls. Those catalogs are on-line and you can check that way or call them yourself. Usually they don’t carry current edition of textbooks either.”

“But they’re too much money!”

“Believe me, I sympathize. Textbooks are a racket. Try getting them used off of Amazon or –"A deafening howl of pain interrupted me.

“OOOOOOOOOWWWWWW!!! Why did you close the back door on me?”

Muffled sound, I assume from the bus driver, loud laughter from the other passengers.

“What do you mean, I should have gotten out of bed earlier? That really hurt! Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.”

As much as I was enjoying hearing the exchange betwhttp://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gifeen the bus driver and my phone patron, I had to end the phone call because I was laughing so hard. I'm helpless against slapstick and pain inflicting pratfalls. The idiot thought he was going to be so clever and get a jump on his classmates by reserving all of his textbooks before his classmates that he was not paying attention to what he was doing and got the back doors on the bus slammed on him. The doors are fairly light so I suspect only his dignity was wounded.

I felt remorse for laughing but hearing a college aged man whine and pule about the cost of his textbooks really stirred the civil service sadist in me. I enjoyed, God help me, bearing the bad news that we simply don’t have what he needs. I’m always careful to watch myself for this sort of behavior, that petty, banal type of evil that seems to flower and flourish under civil service, the kind perfected by fonctionnaires. Many libraries are plagued with battle weary, burnt out monsters, the type who take such delight in crushing the joie de vivre out of little children, the ones whose little mean smile reveal the utter delight they feel when they tell a patron, “No, I cannot extend the time on your book.” Or, “The computer timed out and there is simply no way to retrieve your work. It’s lost FOREVER.”

I don’t know what it is about civil service that seems to produce so many on the job tipplers, hoarders and burnt outs, but please don’t let me become one of them. It must be not having the imminent threat of having your ass shown to the door like in non unionized jobs in the private sector. Maybe the fear of being fired is a good thing. Keeps you nice.

The Banality of Evil

“Library information, may I help you?”

“Girl, NO WAY! What a ho!”

“Information, how may I help you?”

“Wait a minute. I’m on a bus. Can you hear me?”

“Just barely.”

“Just wait a minute and the people next to me should quiet down”

More screaming and laughing.

“Perhaps this isn’t a good time. Why don’t you call me back when you’re somewhere I can hear you.”

“NOOO! I need to know if you have the following books and it’s really important!”

“What are they?”

“Introduction to Economics: Principles, Problems and Philosophies, Understanding Psychology, Que Tal, a Basic Introduction to Spanish…

“These are textbooks, aren’t they?”

“Yes.

“I’m going to be honest with you. We usually don’t carry them, especially the most current edition that your teacher will require, but I’ll be happy to go ahead and check the catalog.”

Not surprisingly, we didn’t have any on his long list.

“Couldn’t I get them through interlibrary loan?” he asked in a pouty, put out tone.

“You could try, but know that interlibrary loan books can take 4-6 weeks. Books also have to be over a year old to be eligible for interlibrary loan."

“But all these text books are really expensive and I don’t have any money. What am I supposed to do? Why don’t you check all of the surrounding library systems?”

“I’ve already been on the phone with you for five minutes and I need to take other calls. Those catalogs are on-line and you can check that way or call them yourself. Usually they don’t carry current edition of textbooks either.”

“But they’re too much money!”

“Believe me, I sympathize. Textbooks are a racket. Try getting them used off of Amazon or –"A deafening howl of pain interrupted me.

“OOOOOOOOOWWWWWW!!! Why did you close the back door on me?”

Muffled sound, I assume from the bus driver, loud laughter from the other passengers.

“What do you mean, I should have gotten out of bed earlier? That really hurt! Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.”

As much as I was enjoying hearing the exchange betwhttp://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gifeen the bus driver and my phone patron, I had to end the phone call because I was laughing so hard. I'm helpless against slapstick and pain inflicting pratfalls. The idiot thought he was going to be so clever and get a jump on his classmates by reserving all of his textbooks before his classmates that he was not paying attention to what he was doing and got the back doors on the bus slammed on him. The doors are fairly light so I suspect only his dignity was wounded.

I felt remorse for laughing but hearing a college aged man whine and pule about the cost of his textbooks really stirred the civil service sadist in me. I enjoyed, God help me, bearing the bad news that we simply don’t have what he needs. I’m always careful to watch myself for this sort of behavior, that petty, banal type of evil that seems to flower and flourish under civil service, the kind perfected by fonctionnaires. Many libraries are plagued with battle weary, burnt out monsters, the type who take such delight in crushing the joie de vivre out of little children, the ones whose little mean smile reveal the utter delight they feel when they tell a patron, “No, I cannot extend the time on your book.” Or, “The computer timed out and there is simply no way to retrieve your work. It’s lost FOREVER.”

I don’t know what it is about civil service that seems to produce so many on the job tipplers, hoarders and burnt outs, but please don’t let me become one of them. It must be not having the imminent threat of having your ass shown to the door like in non unionized jobs in the private sector. Maybe the fear of being fired is a good thing. Keeps you nice.

The Shinning

One of the regular patrons here has a fixation on military history. He also has some sort of mental condition which I have diagnosed as “barking mad.” An older gentleman with duct taped coke bottle glasses and greasy gray hair, he’ll materialize at the desk and hold forth, orating at a volume level like he is addressing the crowds at one of the imperial forums. His favorite topic is the military exploits of Admiral William Halsey and other famous military figures.

(Fun quote from Halsey, spoken to reassure the American people as he surveyed the ruins of Pearl Harbor: “Before we are through with 'em, the Japanese language will only be spoken in hell!”)

Except for startling the Bejesus out of everyone this patron is relatively harmless, and all it takes is one glare from one of the security guards for him to quiet down and slink off. One time I was at the desk musing about one of the many, many funerals I have been to this past death ridden year. This particular funeral was at a beautiful historic cemetery reserved for the descendents of one of the founding families of a small town in East Texas. After the service I explored the headstones with some cousins. One of my cousins, who grew up in the town, commented, “We used to party in here when I was in high school.”

Right after the memory passed through my head, the patron, who was standing about twenty feet away from in the atrium trying to engage some member of the public in a story about Halsey, turned to me and shouted, "I want to party. Party in a graveyard!" He then came up to the desk and asked me for a Yiddish dictionary.

I wonder if that was some sort of coincidence or if I had shared some eerie psychic connection with the patron. Perhaps the insane can pick up on the mental static of those around him. In any case, psychi ability does run in my family. Family lore has it that my great-great Aunt Elizabeth had the gift. She told my grandmother that when she was a little girl she thought everyone had it, but when people reacted strangely to her she actively ignored it until it almost went away. She would still get occasional flashes, but I guess it’s one of those things that if you don’t use it, you lose it. She must have retained some sort of numinous presence because my grandmother remembered people stopping her on the street and asking her if she had the gift. When this happened one time on a train she said to the woman, “Why do you ask?” The woman said, “I can tell from your aura.”

My grandmother said that the only time she felt a spark of precognition was when she visited a relative’s house. She saw some furniture and said to herself, “That furniture is going to be recovered in light green leather.” Sure enough, the next time she paid a call there was the furniture, exactly how she had envisioned it in her mind’s eye. My grandmother, a highly pragmatic woman, was highly disappointed that she never had a premonition of anything useful, like the direction of the market, so she never tried to develop the ability.

The Shinning.

The Shinning

One of the regular patrons here has a fixation on military history. He also has some sort of mental condition which I have diagnosed as “barking mad.” An older gentleman with duct taped coke bottle glasses and greasy gray hair, he’ll materialize at the desk and hold forth, orating at a volume level like he is addressing the crowds at one of the imperial forums. His favorite topic is the military exploits of Admiral William Halsey and other famous military figures.

(Fun quote from Halsey, spoken to reassure the American people as he surveyed the ruins of Pearl Harbor: “Before we are through with 'em, the Japanese language will only be spoken in hell!”)

Except for startling the Bejesus out of everyone this patron is relatively harmless, and all it takes is one glare from one of the security guards for him to quiet down and slink off. One time I was at the desk musing about one of the many, many funerals I have been to this past death ridden year. This particular funeral was at a beautiful historic cemetery reserved for the descendents of one of the founding families of a small town in East Texas. After the service I explored the headstones with some cousins. One of my cousins, who grew up in the town, commented, “We used to party in here when I was in high school.”

Right after the memory passed through my head, the patron, who was standing about twenty feet away from in the atrium trying to engage some member of the public in a story about Halsey, turned to me and shouted, "I want to party. Party in a graveyard!" He then came up to the desk and asked me for a Yiddish dictionary.

I wonder if that was some sort of coincidence or if I had shared some eerie psychic connection with the patron. Perhaps the insane can pick up on the mental static of those around him. In any case, psychi ability does run in my family. Family lore has it that my great-great Aunt Elizabeth had the gift. She told my grandmother that when she was a little girl she thought everyone had it, but when people reacted strangely to her she actively ignored it until it almost went away. She would still get occasional flashes, but I guess it’s one of those things that if you don’t use it, you lose it. She must have retained some sort of numinous presence because my grandmother remembered people stopping her on the street and asking her if she had the gift. When this happened one time on a train she said to the woman, “Why do you ask?” The woman said, “I can tell from your aura.”

My grandmother said that the only time she felt a spark of precognition was when she visited a relative’s house. She saw some furniture and said to herself, “That furniture is going to be recovered in light green leather.” Sure enough, the next time she paid a call there was the furniture, exactly how she had envisioned it in her mind’s eye. My grandmother, a highly pragmatic woman, was highly disappointed that she never had a premonition of anything useful, like the direction of the market, so she never tried to develop the ability.

The Shinning.

Namaste, Motherfucka!

After a crapulent last few months I'm on a regimen of Krav Maga and Bikram yoga. The different philosophies of these two forms are making me feel like I have a split personality, though, because when I'm at Krav Maga punching or kicking the bag or extricating myself from a stranglehold it's all, "Die, motherfucker, die!!!" and when I'm at yoga it's all about serenity, peace, acceptance and attaining one with the Divine.

If anything, I hope that my yoga practice will mitigate some of the effects of Krav Maga and that I'll reach the beautiful equilibrium of the peaceful warrior. I've noticed that my daydreams have become a lot more violent since I started back on Krav Maga and I'm not sure if it's such a good thing to have physical violence in my repertoire of responses. Not that I would ever go around spoiling for a fight - Krav Maga, or at least what I'm learning at my level, is all about defense - smashing a groin or gouging an eye and then beating a hasty (cowardly) retreat.

And at least I'll have a fighting chance when the zombies come. World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War is the most exhilarating thing I've read in years. Combining two special interests of mine, zombies and Studs Turkel style oral histories, it contains riveting accounts of how ordinary people from all over the world- a soccer mom, a Japanese computer hacker, a Lesotho township shanty town dweller, an Air Force pilot forced to parachute in the Atchafalaya swamp teeming with the hungry, living dead - all survived a zombie war in the near future. Highly recommended.

Namaste, Motherfucka!

After a crapulent last few months I'm on a regimen of Krav Maga and Bikram yoga. The different philosophies of these two forms are making me feel like I have a split personality, though, because when I'm at Krav Maga punching or kicking the bag or extricating myself from a stranglehold it's all, "Die, motherfucker, die!!!" and when I'm at yoga it's all about serenity, peace, acceptance and attaining one with the Divine.

If anything, I hope that my yoga practice will mitigate some of the effects of Krav Maga and that I'll reach the beautiful equilibrium of the peaceful warrior. I've noticed that my daydreams have become a lot more violent since I started back on Krav Maga and I'm not sure if it's such a good thing to have physical violence in my repertoire of responses. Not that I would ever go around spoiling for a fight - Krav Maga, or at least what I'm learning at my level, is all about defense - smashing a groin or gouging an eye and then beating a hasty (cowardly) retreat.

And at least I'll have a fighting chance when the zombies come. World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War is the most exhilarating thing I've read in years. Combining two special interests of mine, zombies and Studs Turkel style oral histories, it contains riveting accounts of how ordinary people from all over the world- a soccer mom, a Japanese computer hacker, a Lesotho township shanty town dweller, an Air Force pilot forced to parachute in the Atchafalaya swamp teeming with the hungry, living dead - all survived a zombie war in the near future. Highly recommended.

Encore un moment, monsieur le bourreau, un petit moment*

*Just a moment, executioner, just a small moment...

Recently I watched Marie Antoinette, Sophia Coppola’s entertaining confectionery of a movie, and have since been reading up on the fates of all of the principles. I knew it ended badly for most of them, but because Ms Coppola stops the movie before the trials, guillotines and raving mobs I wanted to brush up on the details. Wikipedia has excellent entries on all of the characters, full of the fascinating, gossipy tittle tattle that makes reading about their lives so interesting. (In the entry for Marie Antoinette's mother, Maria Theresa of Austria, it reports how she got to marry for love, an unusual occurence for someone of her time and station. It was a fruitful and joyful union, so passionate that the newlyweds reportedly broke a bed on their honeymoon and eventually produced 16 children.)

Although I believe she got a bad rap, Marie Antoinette certainly was spoiled, frivolous and dangerously oblivious.

Fulfilling Marie Antoinette's determination to avoid boredom, conversation in her circle shied away from the mundane or intellectual. According to Madame Campan, one of the queen's ladies-in-waiting, "The newest songs from the Comédie, the most timely joke or pun or quip, the bon mot of the day, the latest and choicest tidbit of scandal or gossip – these comprised the sole topics of conversation in the intimate group about the queen; discussion on a serious plane was banished from her court.

She was a loving mother, however, and her maternal devotion softened my feelings toward her. While one son succumbed to spinal tuberculosis, an agonizing death that took months, she never left his side. When another daughter died in infancy she keened and mourned over the body for hours until the body finally had to be taken from her.

But getting to the good part, here is how she faced her own death:

As she was being led to the scaffold, the priest who had accompanied her whispered, "This is the moment, Madame, to arm yourself with courage." Marie Antoinette turned to look at him and smiled, "Courage? The moment when my troubles are going to end is not the moment when my courage is going to fail me." Legend states that her last words were, "Monsieur, I ask your pardon. I did not do it on purpose," spoken after she had accidentally stepped on the executioner's foot.


Madame Du Barry, the low born courtesan and favorite of Marie’ Antoinette’s father in law, King Louis XV, was not so stoic. She initially had escaped to London, but foolishly and against all advice kept returning to Paris to recover jewels she had cached away. Eventually, she was betrayed, seized and charged with conspiracy.
From the Memoirs of Madame Vigée Lebrun, the famous and exquisitely talented royal portraitist.

Madame Du Barry ... is the only woman, among all the women who perished in the dreadful days, who could not stand the sight of the scaffold. She screamed, she begged mercy of the horrible crowd that stood around the scaffold, she aroused them to such a point that the executioner grew anxious and hastened to complete his task.

Reportedly her final words, spoken to the executioner, were "Encore un moment, monsieur le bourreau, un petit moment" (Just a moment, executioner, a small moment.) I find this unbearably poignant, because isn’t that what we all want?

Vigee Lebrun continues:
“This convinced me that if the victims of these terrible times had not been so proud, had not met death with such courage, the Terror would have ended much earlier. Men of limited intelligence lack the imagination to be touched by inner suffering, and the populace is more easily stirred by pity than by admiration."

I wonder if this is true, if the not the French nobility had not faced death with such dignity and stoicism, had they not been so determined not to give the rabble the satisfaction, if this would have ended the Terror sooner.

The most chilling and stoic example of a royal facing execution was Catherine Howard, 5th wife of Henry the VII, the second ‘beheaded’ in the mnemonic of Henry's wives: Divorced, Beheaded, Died, Divorced Beheaded, Survived.

From Execution: The Guillotine, the Pendulum, the Thousand Cuts, the Spanish Donkey, and 66 Other Ways to Put Someone to Death

The night preceding her execution the queen, determined not to exhibit any feminine weakness on the scaffold, 'asked that the block might be brought to her room and, this having been done and the executioner fetched, to the amazement of her attendants she knelt and laid her head in the horrible hollow, declaring as she rose to her feet that she could now go through the ordeal with grace and propriety'.

Which she did.

Encore un moment, monsieur le bourreau, un petit moment*

*Just a moment, executioner, just a small moment...

Recently I watched Marie Antoinette, Sophia Coppola’s entertaining confectionery of a movie, and have since been reading up on the fates of all of the principles. I knew it ended badly for most of them, but because Ms Coppola stops the movie before the trials, guillotines and raving mobs I wanted to brush up on the details. Wikipedia has excellent entries on all of the characters, full of the fascinating, gossipy tittle tattle that makes reading about their lives so interesting. (In the entry for Marie Antoinette's mother, Maria Theresa of Austria, it reports how she got to marry for love, an unusual occurence for someone of her time and station. It was a fruitful and joyful union, so passionate that the newlyweds reportedly broke a bed on their honeymoon and eventually produced 16 children.)

Although I believe she got a bad rap, Marie Antoinette certainly was spoiled, frivolous and dangerously oblivious.

Fulfilling Marie Antoinette's determination to avoid boredom, conversation in her circle shied away from the mundane or intellectual. According to Madame Campan, one of the queen's ladies-in-waiting, "The newest songs from the Comédie, the most timely joke or pun or quip, the bon mot of the day, the latest and choicest tidbit of scandal or gossip – these comprised the sole topics of conversation in the intimate group about the queen; discussion on a serious plane was banished from her court.

She was a loving mother, however, and her maternal devotion softened my feelings toward her. While one son succumbed to spinal tuberculosis, an agonizing death that took months, she never left his side. When another daughter died in infancy she keened and mourned over the body for hours until the body finally had to be taken from her.

But getting to the good part, here is how she faced her own death:

As she was being led to the scaffold, the priest who had accompanied her whispered, "This is the moment, Madame, to arm yourself with courage." Marie Antoinette turned to look at him and smiled, "Courage? The moment when my troubles are going to end is not the moment when my courage is going to fail me." Legend states that her last words were, "Monsieur, I ask your pardon. I did not do it on purpose," spoken after she had accidentally stepped on the executioner's foot.


Madame Du Barry, the low born courtesan and favorite of Marie’ Antoinette’s father in law, King Louis XV, was not so stoic. She initially had escaped to London, but foolishly and against all advice kept returning to Paris to recover jewels she had cached away. Eventually, she was betrayed, seized and charged with conspiracy.
From the Memoirs of Madame Vigée Lebrun, the famous and exquisitely talented royal portraitist.

Madame Du Barry ... is the only woman, among all the women who perished in the dreadful days, who could not stand the sight of the scaffold. She screamed, she begged mercy of the horrible crowd that stood around the scaffold, she aroused them to such a point that the executioner grew anxious and hastened to complete his task.

Reportedly her final words, spoken to the executioner, were "Encore un moment, monsieur le bourreau, un petit moment" (Just a moment, executioner, a small moment.) I find this unbearably poignant, because isn’t that what we all want?

Vigee Lebrun continues:
“This convinced me that if the victims of these terrible times had not been so proud, had not met death with such courage, the Terror would have ended much earlier. Men of limited intelligence lack the imagination to be touched by inner suffering, and the populace is more easily stirred by pity than by admiration."

I wonder if this is true, if the not the French nobility had not faced death with such dignity and stoicism, had they not been so determined not to give the rabble the satisfaction, if this would have ended the Terror sooner.

The most chilling and stoic example of a royal facing execution was Catherine Howard, 5th wife of Henry the VII, the second ‘beheaded’ in the mnemonic of Henry's wives: Divorced, Beheaded, Died, Divorced Beheaded, Survived.

From Execution: The Guillotine, the Pendulum, the Thousand Cuts, the Spanish Donkey, and 66 Other Ways to Put Someone to Death

The night preceding her execution the queen, determined not to exhibit any feminine weakness on the scaffold, 'asked that the block might be brought to her room and, this having been done and the executioner fetched, to the amazement of her attendants she knelt and laid her head in the horrible hollow, declaring as she rose to her feet that she could now go through the ordeal with grace and propriety'.

Which she did.