A day in the library in Berkeley

What a bore! I picked up Jane Juska's book, A Roundheeled Woman, to read about the amorous adventures of an older woman. But before I was well begun, I found the usual liberal tosh:

Behind me, the schizophrenic in his red beret roamed the young people's reading section, spinning the carousels and swearing at the books as the spun....

Fun for the young patrons, I'm sure. Are their mothers as compassionate as Jane Juska? Or do they keep their kids out of the library?

Across the table ...a homeless man snored softly....I sighed. It was the beginning of the winter, when the homeless came to the library....Not long from now, the smell...would come to be overwhelming. But none of the librarians objected to the seasonal takeover, nor did any of the patrons. We were bound together by guilt and frustration and an unutterable desire to feel the touch of another human being.

The library must be a fun place for those who come there to read, to contemplate, to think. Working there must be a real treat, too.

The people in my neighborhood...feel guilty and helpless and angry at the disgrace heaped upon our heads by a government...that chooses to ignore the poor and the sick.

Blame Bush! At this point, I would have thrown the book across the room, but it was a library book.

This kind of compassion on the cheap irritates the hell out of me.

The author mentions that she and her neighbors must keep their porch lights on (another thing they feel guilty about) to keep the homeless from sleeping on their porches. Turn off those lights! Provide blankets! A few sandwiches would come in handy. A keg of beer would be nice too. Do your little bit to make the homeless people's life a little better.