Surviving Ikea

A guide for the modern man.

About those Maryland drivers...

They aren't the best drivers, even when driving while Christian:

The first observation is this, drivers from Maryland with bumper stickers on their car that read “Jesus said ‘Love your enemies.’ I don’t think that he meant to kill them” are neither good nor polite drivers. Okay… Perhaps this is a bit of hyperbole and your Maximum Leader using potentially faulty inductive reasoning to cast aspersions on all drivers from Maryland with insipid bumper stickers on their cars. On the other hand, if he were to conduct a scientific study of the phenomenon he believes his initial reasoning would stand.

Maryland drivers with insipid stickers on their cars, according to your Maximum Leader’s observations, tend to swerve erratically within their lane as well as change lanes suddenly and without signaling. They also seem to like to cut you off as you are getting into a left turn lane.

[]
Your Maximum Leader wonders how this Maryland driver would react to their home being katushka rocketed by their fundamentalist neighbors in Delaware. He suspects that the Maryland driver would turn the other cheek and fervently hope that their house was katushka-proof. In the end, your Maximum Leader doubts that the Maryland driver would last long against the fundamentalist Delawareans.

In any case, your Maximum Leader would prefer to stay close to the SUV-driving mom with the NRA Life Member window decal, the Marine Corps license plate, and the bumper sticker which read “Note to self: Pillage THEN Burn.” She’s a survivor.

We in Delaware are ready if these Marylanders start giving us a hard time. Just remember that, when the Delaware contingent showed up to fight the American Revolution, they were the most smartly turned out bunch George Washington had seen in the whole Continental Army.

They made a desert and they called it peace

From Daniel Pipes:

The current situation reminds me of a very famous statement by Tacitus, the Roman historian. In judging the Roman conquest and occupation of Britain, he said of the Romans, "They made a desert and called it peace." We see something similar to that in Lebanon. The Syrians have conquered Lebanon, and they have made a desert of it.

This was written in 1997. Not much has changed. Syria and Iran are still calling the shots. They are financing and supplying Hezbollah, and any peace agreement which does not disarm Hezbollah will make Lebanon, and perhaps eventually Israel, a desert.

In Latin: Ubi solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant.

Conservatives are hugging Michael Moore

Query: How do they get their arms around
him?

Is there a hug extender for people who have short arms? Perhaps it is sold over TV for three easy payments of $19.95?

I don't think this is that crazy...

Kids reading to dogs?

It's not the worst idea. It keeps the kids reading, keeps their reading skills sharp over the Summer, and doesn't hurt the dogs.

Plus, the dogs are uncritical listeners; their approval must be very supportive for the kids.

History repeats itself, first as tragedy, then as farce

From Insolublog.

The thought mill

is a blog which is new to me. Here's an interesting, thought-provoking post.

And she has me on her blogroll! A superior blogger indeed!

Oy vey!

Nasty German demonstrator. Ugh.

Lessons in self-righteousness from a German? Yeah, maybe in a thousand years.

Not your runof-the-mill library sex offender

You non-library folks probably think nothing exciting ever happens in a library. Well, it just so happens, we have our sexy moments too. Flashers, nudists, porn viewers, and so on. But this chap is special:

A 27-year-old woman reported to police that on July 11, she was in a study room at the Boardman branch of the Public Library of Youngstown and Mahoning County when a man, who police say was Colella, came in and closed the door.

[]

He told her that he was conducting a sociology project and that he had to kiss people's feet and record their reactions. The woman said she wasn't interested, but he kept insisting and she told police that she believed that he wasn't going to leave unless she agreed.

She relented and he briefly kissed the bottom of her foot, and then without warning he began sucking her toe, according to a police report. She then pulled her foot away and the man asked her reaction to which she replied she was freaked out....

She went home and later called the library where personnel told her to notify police.

DiMartino said that Colella is also a suspect in a similar incident in 2000.

In that case, a 17-year-old girl reported that she was reading in the library one afternoon when a man about 19 years old walked up to her and told her that she had pretty feet. He then lay down on the floor and began kissing and caressing them.

When he was done he asked if he could have her socks. The girl refused and the man asked if he could buy them. She refused again and he left.

I like the part about the socks. Nice touch.

Ht to right jokester.

For the corset lover in all of us

They come in styles for women and men.

The tao of voicemail

It's safer to be a hypocrite.

Johnny Virgil does it again

The man is a genius.

Warning: not for delicate stomachs.

Risque new fashions from Teheran

Definitely NSFW --if you're a muslim.

Game upgraded

Monopoly enters the 21st century.

The anti-obesity police are after you

Trying to legislate what you put in your stomach.

Via Rachel.

Why don't the powers that be issue a handbook for living, detailing just what we must do? It would be simpler.

They could have spot inspections of our homes and offices (Bloomberg is already doing it in New York City) to see if we are in possession of a pack of cigarettes or--God forbid--chocolate cake. They could issue tickets on a sliding scale: first offense, warning; second offense, hang a scarlet letter around your neck; third offense, re-education camp; fourth offense, life in prison on a diet of nothing but Cheerios and broccoli, and an apple every Christmas. (The Jews could have their apples on Rosh Hashanah, in respect for their cultural tradition. And maybe a matzoh ball for Passover.)

Did it ever occur to the powers that be to educate people and let them make their own decisions? This approach had some success with smokers. No-one was left in doubt about the hazards of smoking. Most people I know who used to smoke quit. Despite all the propaganda about how difficult it was to quit, how addictive smoking was, etc, etc., many people decided to give their lungs a break. I, personally, have all the will power of a jellyfish, but I quit, and am now holier than thou.

Quagmires we have known and loved

Colombia can have a quagmire all by its ownself.

I was talking to a guy at the airport the other day who told me the US is creating a quagmire in Colombia, as if the Colombians weren’t perfectly capable of organising their own quagmires. They’ve been having a quagmire ever since they got independence from Spain, and I resent the way these Americans try to claim the credit for everything.

Yankee Imperialism!

Bitching about the library patrons

is something we all do from time to time. Libraryosis has a good one.

Ah, but I could a tale unfold! And by God I'm going to do it. Mrs. Dempsey wasn't only an old lady, she was a SENIOR CITIZEN. She was born that way. She went right from mewling and puking to whining and bitching. She was also on a FIXED INCOME.

Back in the day, when we had VCRs, she borrowed some videos, one of which she returned damaged. It was actually off its spool. The clerk at the desk explained that she had to pay for the ruined video--I think it was $20. Mrs D replied that this vicious video had ruined her equipment, and she was in no way at fault! We should have paid her for the repair of her equipment! And anyway, she was a SENIOR CITIZEN.

She went on to ask why $20? We explained that that was the replacement cost. Mrs D didn't think she should have to pay for a brand new video, we had already gotten some use out of it, hadn't we? It wasn't new any more. And she was a SENIOR CITIZEN.

She went around and around on this with the clerk, who then called her supervisor, who told her the same thing. Her next interview was with lucky me, the head honcho. I explained it all again. As she was taking up a whole morning's worth of time of three library employees, who theoretically could have been doing something else, I asked her how much she thought was fair. She thought a dollar would do the trick. And there we agreed to disagree. Oh, yes, and before she left, she asked me if I could give her daughter a job.

A couple of weeks later, I got a call from the board president, who had also had a discussion with Mrs. D. Apparently he had persuaded her to pony up $10. She also asked him if we could give her daughter a job. His reply is not part of the record.

A day or two later, Mrs D came into my office. She opened up one of those change purses with a snap closure, and grudgingly doled out 10 singles, slowly, one at a time. This was supposed to make me feel bad, as she was a SENIOR CITIZEN and LIVING ON A FIXED INCOME.

I gave her a receipt and thanked her for bringing the matter to a successful conclusion. Then she asked me to give her daughter a job.

She wasn't the worst of the job-seekers, however. One man came to me and asked me to give his mother a job. There wasn't much she could do, he explained, as she spoke little English. I think he considered the library a high-class sort of day care for seniors.

Another family used to leave their brain-injured son in the library for hours. If he had just sat still we wouldn't have known him from our other nutcases, but he insisted in walking around the card catalog (which we still had then) over and over, gathering speed like a jet engine, and making much the same noise.

Then there was Mildred. She came in with her stuffed doll, which she seated next to her. We were okay with that. But when she started to call various staffers over to engage the doll in conversation, admire its wardrobe, and discuss its politics, something had to give. I ordered the entire staff not to speak to the doll. That put an end to it. Mildred was crazy, but she was not stupid.

More faces

 
 
 
  

Still more faces

 
 
 
  

Art kills

Read it and weep

Thta's what I did, on encountering this piece. It's pretty sickening.

Hezbollah are not freedom fighters. They are not revolutionaries. They are not even terrorists. What they are is serial murderers. Think Jeffrey Dahmer, writ large. The hostages are just a pretext--any excuse would do. They are consumed by bloodlust.

Israel could rob them of that pretext by instituting the death penalty. Give them a fair trial and shoot them.

Unofficial Carnival of Comedy

Since no-one sent me anything, I have taken matters in my own hands and am putting out the unofficial or Counter-Carnival of Comedy. I am going to concentrate on bloggers who make me laugh.

The theme is health and fitness, and generally getting ahead in life. Let's call it health, wealth and fitness. Oh, yes, and world peace.

First up: Johnny Virgil. If you can read this without laughing out loud, call 911. Your situation is desperate.

Do you believe you are turning into one of your grandparents? If so, seek professional help immdiately.

It goes without saying, you'll feel better if you are obscenely rich. Stephenesque tells you how.

Annoyed librarian is generally annoyed with something, this time it's the ALA. Haven't you been told that stopping your meds would result in this, AL?

Our friend Buckley scores a coup--he interviews Ahmanjob, uh Ahnmjihad --oh, hell the president of Iran, dammit! That guy's a sick puppy! Not a very good outlook on world peace with him in charge!

Needless to say, good health requires the cook to have clean hands.

How to get ahead in the law business.

The learned and erudite Akaky (by the way, isn't that an odd name for an Irishman?--just asking--meditates on closing (or opening) the library. For a refreshing change, no toilets are mentioned.

Well, tht's it. The unofficial, endorsed by nobody, UnCarnival is up. If anybody ever sends me any info or posts on the Official Carnival, I will post them too.

Discovering a new country

Leon Weiseltier point out that some people don't live in the United States.

Some lefty bloggers have their own nation:

Leon Wieseltier, literary editor of the The New Republic and a general critic of bloggers, rejected the "complexity" explanation.

"Why would you expect complexity from bloggers, left, right, or Martian?" Wieseltier wrote in an email to the Forward. "They are not in the complexity business on any issue. Maybe the problem is not complexity but complication — the way in which sympathy with Israel's campaign against Hezbollah, and therefore with the use of force, might complicate their lives in progressiveland, where they live."

I know lots of people who live in Progressiveland. They have their own loyalties, their own flag, their own leaders--Cindy Sheehan, Michael Moore, and Michael Berg among them. Their flag is the American flag turned upside down.

They believe the Soviet Union never meant any harm, and that Alger Hiss was innocent. Israel is evil. The Canadian health system is the best in the world. If you try to discuss any of these matters with them, you will discover the meaning of invincible ignorance.

Fisking Richard Cohen

A good collection of links to the Washington Post's token Jew. Read them, and report back. There will be a quiz.

In Cohen's world view, everybody should give up territory to the guys who had it before them. Thus, Americans should feel guilty for conquering the Indians and should let them run casinos and sell tax-free cigarettes wherever they think they were when the evil round-eyes displaced them. However, if someone preceded the Indians, they should give up the land to whoever was there before the land bridge disappeared. The Mexicans should give their country back to the Mayans, if any can be found.

How does Cohen think the Kosovars came to be Muslims? Or the Iranians, for that matter? They were conquered, that's how. The natives were given a choice between converting to Islam or dying. After thinking it over, they converted, and became crazier than the Muslims who had conquered them, in terms of sheer bloody-mindedness. Now if the Iranians give their land back to pre-Islamic Persia, maybe Israelis should give up Israel. But neither eventuality is likely to happen.

But Cohen is wrong on the facts. Jews have always lived in Israel, despite the best efforts of their enemies to kill them off. Palestinians, far from being natives of the region with anything that might be called a state, were just a bunch of nomads noodling around the area, annoying all their neighbors. Remember when they were expelled from Jordan?

Meanwhile, their Arab brethren have refused to let them settle in other Arab countries and have kept them for 60 years in UN refugee camps, where they seethed with hatred.

Now along comes Jimmy Carter, encouraging these lowlifes to think they had a "country" and a "leader." Carter created Yassir Arafat and subsequent presidents planted their lips on his rear end for 20 years. Arafat had no power, but we pretended he did. Arafat couldn't go to the movies without a written note from the Israeli Prime Minister, but we acted as if he were head of a mighty power.

Then there's the deal with Hezbollah. They promised to lay down their arms. This will happen when the IRA lays down theirs, which is to say never. It's easy to give a promise when you don't mean it and no-one is going to call you to account.

Now Israel has to deal with the whole bloody mess. The world's freedom rests on the shoulders of a small country. What a burden!

Boobs by the numbers

or letters.

Evil Glenn's best accomplishments at his own law firm

How did Evil Glenn make his firm a top-notch legal resource?

He ordered all the potted plants to be watered daily with the blood of the newest associate.

The next new thing in libraries

From Bunny.

This one's for Akaky. It's just his kind of thing.

Air conditioning--the God-given right of all Americans

This post made me think about my California relatives:

Growing up, I have distinct memories of my grandparents. They lived (then and now) in the Central Valley of California....

Now the Central Valley in summer is hot. Damn hot. It's a desert. A desert with irrigation. My grandparents experiences growing up in the Depression made them very frugal, and there was never a guarantee of air conditioning - even when it hit 110....

My grandparents did what any enterprising American would do in order to combat the weather - they walked around their houses in their underwear. All the grandparents of all my friends did the same thing, so I never thought anything of it.

My son-in-law and my daughter live in the Central Valley. He doesn't believe in God, or air conditioning. Their houses are often 110 degrees in the daytime. Their answer to my vociferous complaints (not about God, but the heat) goes like this: "We don't need air conditioning. It's always cool at night." Great! I sweat until I'm as wet as a swamp critter, then at night the sweat dries and I get hypothermia.

He inherited this air-conditioning denial syndrome from his father, who told me, "We don't have air-conditioning. You don't need it." The father lives in Solvang, where the sidewalks melt in summer. If anyone in the world ever needed AC, it is the inhabitants of Solvang.

So the younger couple are building a house, an expensive one, on a very expensive piece of land. The driveway alone will cost more than my entire net worth. No air conditioning. Why? "We won't need it."

How could my daughter stray so far from her parents' teaching? Where, or where, did we go wrong?

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Faces

 
 
 
  

Reality check

From Big pharoah.

Ask for Betty...

She's the person who runs the New Castle County Tax Office all by herself.

The background: In order to get a property tax exemption, you need to submit a form, along with a copy of your last year's IRS forms. Then there is a school tax exemption, for which you submit another form, along with--wait for it--a copy of your last year's IRS forms. Why two forms, and two IRS copies, I don't know. You'd better talk to Betty.

I duly sent both these things to the same place. Weeks later, I get one of the forms back because I hadn't signed it. I put it somewhere safe. It is now in a secure location, the same one which contains a CD of all our family photos and a pair of gold earrings. Some day when my heirs and assigns are cleaning out my possessions ("Why did the old bat keep all this crap?") they will find all these things.

So I call the New Castle County tax office. After three employees had kicked the can down the road ("We don't know nuthin' 'bout birthin' no tax forms, Ms Scarlett", I was told to call back next Tuesday and ask for Betty. Of course I forgot.

A couple of weeks later, someone from the tax office called and left a cryptic message on my voice mail.

I called back, and got someone who was very pleasant, but said I would have to call back and talk to Betty. She gave me a direct phone number.

Later, I called Betty's direct line. But Alice answered. I asked for Betty; she was not in today. Alice and I had a nice discussion which ultimately did not lead anywhere productive. Alice said she would look into the matter and call me back. If I did not hear from her, I should call on Monday and ask for Betty.

I have a mental picture of Betty. She's a woman over a certain age--no-one young is called Betty. She's been with the county for over 25 years and wears her reading glasses on a chain around her neck. While all the young whippersnappers around her are playing games on their computers or talking about their hot dates on Saturday night, Betty does the work. Her word goes around the tax office.

Betty knows where everything is. And everyone. She knows when the director is off playing golf instead of on the job. When the director wants anything, she finds it. She tells him what to do. He does it. She knows which employees are slackers, and which are workers.

Her desk is always clean, and she has a potted plant on it, which she waters every Tuesday. She polishes her desk every couple of weeks, and uses Goo-gone on her computer keyboard, which is spotless.

What will happen to New Castle County tax business when Betty retires? Is there a slightly younger Betty, perhaps a Patty or Florence, to run the county's affairs? Or is it all over when Betty goes?

The Plame-Wilson lawsuit

I agree with Andrew's dad on this one:

[A]ll I can say is Thank You. I now know what it must be like for a crack addict to find a large bag of crack. I now know what it must be like for the Seattle City Council members to hear there is extra cash they can use for social welfare programs that will do nothing. I now know what it would feel like to go to the driving range and hear over the loudspeaker that buckets of balls are free all day.

...

If I am a lawyer for the defense, I would immediately start rehearsing the following line, "Mr. Wilson, before I ask the next question, let me remind you that you are under oath".

The discovery process should be quite interesting.

Everything you ever wanted to know about cul de sacs

and then some.

Thanks to Norm.

Book titles that should be retired

Hint: don't call your book Gay Lord Robert.

In memoriam

for a fallen hero.

Why Delaware?

People ask me (well, someone asked me), "Why did you move to Delaware if you're always talking about New Jersey?" I'm glad you asked that. My answer:

1. I know where Delaware is.

2. It's not that far from New Jersey. I can go back and visit my pals, and shop. There is no sales tax in Delaware, but there's nothing to shop for, either. It's nice if you want tires or a computer or something.

3. Property taxes are ridiculously low. For someone from New Jersey. I save enough on my property tax to go to Europe every year.

4. Good central location. I have relatives in Maryland, Virginia, and New Jersey.

5. Wilmington is near Philadelphia. I feel the need for a big city once in a while.

6. Trucks. Drive through New Jersey and you'll see what I mean. They should call it the Truck State. Wherever you go, there is a tractor trailer right next to you, ready and willing to cut you off.

7. Delaware is pretty.

8. Nice cultural facilities, particularly the art museum.

9. Nice people. In the gym I belonged to in NJ, there were regular acrimonious arguments about pieces of equipment. The gym is much more mannerly here.

Okay, I'll make a confession. Delaware doesn't seem like home to me yet. For one thing, I can't find my way around my house in the dark. I don't know anybody.

But the natives are friendly. One of the neighbors cleaned the snow off our driveway voluntarily. People say hello. Clerks in stores are pleasant and friendly. They speak English. Public officials are helpful and polite. People in the libraries are unbelievably nice.

Now the complaints.

1. The way people drive. I have never seen anyone turn his/her head when backing up. They also shoot out of intersections right in front of you. And I have been tailgated more since I lived here than I ever was in my life. If they drove like that in New Jersey they would either be killed by a tractor trailer or shot by an irate motorist.

2. People walk around barefooted. What is this, Tobacco Road? Wear shoes!

2a. The number of people who wear shorts who shouldn't is phenomenal. People, get a grip!

3. Everything is not open 24 hours a day. Not that I want to go to the drugstore at 3 a.m. on Christmas Eve, but I like to have the option. I don't know why this matters, but it does. I admit it's stupid.

4. Baked ziti, lack of.

The Carnival of Comedy is up!

And by the way, I am hosting it next week and no-one has sent me any witty clever stuff to post. Or any stuff.

Hey, help me out here!*

* E-mail any sidesplittingly funny stuff to bentheo@verizon.net.

If you don't hire me...

I'll get mad.

Just another day in Delaware

Found: Dead mom and 100 dead cats.

Stuff

Champion swapper.

virtual hunting banned.

There's a new saint.

Bloggers weigh in on deplorable situation

from sandmonkey.

India mulls over handling of terrorist threat

The authorities don't want to appear intolerant.

Critics of the ruling Congress Party say it is too scared of alienating Muslims to act effectively against Islamist groups.

They don't want to make them mad. They might set off some bombs or something. You never can tell.

To Bill Keller:

with sympathy for his plight:

I know it’s always difficult to weigh the options: Help the terrorists, don’t help the terrorists. It’s a tough decision, no one can deny that.

If the terrorists reduce New York City to rubble, where will the New York times publish from? Paris? Of course, Pinch, Paunch and company could just afford to up and move. They could bring John Kerry with them; I understand he is fluent in French.

I've been debating how to send the Times a signal. I don't think it's really enough that I have stopped buying the paper on Sunday, thus reducing Delaware's landfill by 5%. As important as I fancy myself, odds are no-one will even notice.

So I am going to request that my fellow bloggers who are like-minded all don't buy the paper on the same day. This will only work if you already buy the paper. But don't start buying it now, if you don't already. (That will mean the terrorists have won.)

I understand that lots of people in Michigan and Louisiana and places like that already don't buy the Sunday New York Times, even though it does have a really challenging crossword puzzle. You people can keep on not buying it. But perhaps if you don't log onto their website that day?

Since no-one reads newspapers in the summer, I am going to suggest September 17, 2006, as the day when we all go out and don't buy the New York Times or log onto their fershloggener website.

Anyone agree?

Varifrank has lots to say...

but I couldn't resist this tidbit:

I watched Charlie Rose this weekend, he had an interview with Robert Kennedy Jr. I want to highly emphasize JUNIOR here, because the man and the crowd he travels in have made this weird sort of “cargo cult” out of his sainted father and his likeness, even to the point that older guys like Charlie Rose love to say “Robert Kennedy” and then conveniently forget to say “…junior…” as if it would result in the old man himself reanimating on the spot.

Robert Kennedy JUNIOR is like Frank Sinatra JUNIOR. I don’t care how drunk you are or what time of the morning it is in Vegas and I dont care whos name is on the Marquee, it’s not “the old man” up on stage and no amount of makeup or bright lights is going to change that fact. He may look like RFK and he may sound like RFK, but unlike his sainted old man, Robert Kennedy JUNIOR is so devoid of charisma he sucks whatever charisma there is out of the air like a Shaper Image Ionic Breeze sucks pollen and dust mites out of the air.

Yes. Yes. Yes!

Ht to mostly Cajun.

Sweet muslim bedtime story

to soothe little jihadis to sleep.

Courtesy of memri.

Beware: eco-friendly cars !

A warning from Dr phat Tony:

Reports are coming in of automobiles all over the country becoming self aware and rejecting the internal combustion engine to live a more eco friendly life....many experts believe that this sudden self-awareness was caused by the ever increasing size and memory of the computer controlling the fuel injection and the guilt of global warming. []

When asked why the cars are rejecting their combustion engine, the expert said, “Cause they’re probably gay and listen to the radio. All you ever here about now is global warming this, and carbon footprint that. I would feel bad to if everyone blamed me for destroying the world. I guess them fancy computers just don’t know what exaggeration is.” []

As reports still come in, it seems that a many of the cars were only able to make it a few feet away from where they left their engine. Unable to convert sunshine, rainbows, and children’s laughter into usable energy the cars have seemed to lose all power and erased whatever “self-awareness” they had gained.

Biden +Indian accent+7-11

Joe Biden, (D, Delaware), is the man with the golden foot in his mouth.

Hysterical commentors of all political persuasions have jumped all over his slightly lame comment, re Indians, 7-11s, and Dunkin Donuts.

If he had his mouth wired shut, Biden might be a candidate for President. But he keeps getting into hot water. Years ago, it was for quoting a speech from a member of the House of Commons without attribution. This puts him miles ahead of most of his fellow senators, who probably don't know what the House of Commons is. (Hint: it's not in Okinawa. Nor is it a house of what used to be called ill repute near Las Vegas, Nevada.)

What brings this on? you ask. I'm glad you asked. In looking at my statistics I notice several google searches about Biden, 7-11s, Dunkin Donuts, etc., which have landed on my site. I have never mentioned Biden, 7-11s, Dunkin Donuts, or even Indian food. The closest I have come to this is mentioning that I now live in Delaware. I haven't even mentioned Delaware that much, preferring to dump on New Jersey, a much larger and easier target.

I mean, Delaware is so small, we only have one Congressman. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. One is plenty. We only have three counties. We don't have any urban cesspools like Newark (NJ)or Camden. No sales tax. Just tolls, which are mostly levied on people who are trying to get the hell out of Delaware and go somewhere else, like New Jersey.

So now I have mentioned Biden, et al., feel free to google these topics and come straight to my site.

An Epiphany

I. Don't. Need. Any more clothes.

Looking through my closet, I came to this conclusion. I feel sad. There are no new worlds to conquer.

And this is after paring down my wardrobe before moving. And after moving.

I used to get up every morning and dress nicely. Sometimes choosing my wardrobe was the highlight of my day. But since I gave up working, I generally wear one of my four pairs of jeans every day. And a t-shirt or sweater. Undergarments and sunscreen complete my look.

I used to wear suits, but I have no more need for them now than I do for a bustle.

I am surprised anyone ever buys clothes, considering the stuff for sale in the stores. The evidence on the street, and even in more sophisticated venues bears this out. People wear jeans, unless they wear something even more plebian, like hideous shorts and t-shirts with witty (!!!) sayings.

This is hard to believe, but years ago, when a couple went out, even to play cards with another couple at the home of couple B, the man of couple A wore a jacket and tie and the woman pantyhose. I can hardly believe it myself.

Nowadays, the people on the street, at the mall, or in restaurants--even fancy ones--look like inhabitants of some backward Soviet client state--say Romania-- circa Jimmy Carter. Drab. Everyone looks depressed. Who wouldn't be, looking like that?

I like libraries like this

Of course, they tore it down.

From the world of music:

Good news.

The Sea of Japan gets what's coming to it

according to our Ace Correspondent, scrappleface.

The wise moonbat's guide to fasting

Those in the know, pass the fast along:

"We have to put our own lives on the line, and I'm willing to do that," said activist Diane Wilson, who pledged to fast until the United States withdraws from Iraq.

Dearborn said 2,700 other activists nationwide, including actors Susan Sarandon and Sean Penn, would work as a relay team passing the fast daily from one to another.

Hey! I can fast for 24 hours--it's called Yom Kippur--but I didn't know it was aimed at Bush.

A good question

Conservator asks:

If the USA Patriot Act is so pernicious, why is it necessary to spread falsehoods in order to get people to oppose it?

Read the whole thing.

Two plug-ugly peace-lovers

 
Check out the schmata around Michael Berg's neck, similar to the one Yassir Arafat sported. 

Librarian has a bad day

Don't despair! You are not alone.

I loved public libraries from the day I first went to one, when I was five years old. The idea that I could have books without paying for them--wow! I was in love!

Librarianship (stupid word) was not my first choice of career, but when my children started school I looked for a new way of making a buck. Librarianship was a glamour job--indoor work, no heavy lifting. All right, then.

At library school I met the usual dimwits, particularly among the faculty. If it is possible to organize a 36-hour program totally devoid of content, intellectual or otherwise, library school tried hard to make the grade. I did learn a few things, though. Don't ask me what they were.

My whole career was in public libraries--in Florida and New York, but principally in New Jersey. I quickly decided that I needed to be in charge, so became director of a little library, then a larger one, then a medium-sized one. And there I stayed, until I got caught in the political crossfire.

I still can't articulate why I loved it so much. The books were part of it, of course, and the people, both those who worked with me--my team--and the public (with some exceptions). During my tenure, we went from catalog cards to computers, so there was always something to learn, something new to do--I liked that.

Then there was the feeling that what we were doing was worth doing; we were appreciated by our patrons, whether we were teaching them to use e-mail or just providing them with best-sellers.

We need more meetings

Or maybe not.