Today's Libraries: Teaming Up With The Antichrist

While I was waiting for the No. 2 bus last week, a woman handed me a brochure titled "Mark of the Beast: RFID."
For those of you unfamiliar with this technology, RFID stands for Radio Frequency Identification. RFID chips are embedded in some electronic appliances, retail items, and yes, library books. These microchips are used for the purposes of identifying, monitoring and tracking inventory. At the Seattle Public Main Library, for example, there are sensors in the book drop that determine what book is being returned. After its identity is confirmed, the robotic book sorting system directs the item to a location for re-shelving or holds placement. The tag inside each book can also be used as a security device and set off a door alarm if it isn't checked out by a patron.
This system eliminates human sorting (which is costly) and gives robots (who don't take smoke breaks) much needed jobs. Yet the technology itself is costly - each chip costs at least 50 cents (for over 5 million items at SPL). That doesn't count the robotic conveyor belt system and maintenance.

But using public funds exorbiantly and giving jobs to robots are not concerns listed by the brochure. The author(s) is worried that RFID chips will soon be implanted on our bodies, and these "biochips" will be used to monitor our behavior and serve as a form of monetary exchange (remember that scene in "Minority Report" where Tom Cruise's eyes are scanned by The Gap? And the store knew his name?). The brochure states that "there will be privacy invasion and freedom will cease to exist." Furthermore, "anyone who refuses to accept this system will be tortured, then killed [not the other way around]."

And that's where Satan comes into the conversation. "A charismatic leader, who is the Anti-Christ, will rule the whole world through a system that is interconnected and interdependent." According to this logic, accepting a biochip is equated with receiving the mark of the beast, 666. This sin is unforgivable and cannot be reversed by physically removing the chip. Once the chip is implanted, you belong to Lucifer.

So, what does this mean for our nation's library systems? Well, since the Rapture and the Great Tribulation are inevitable (Revelation), I say we do whatever we can to track our items at all times. I suggest 24-hour surveillance from a central control center in which staff members make fun of patron's DVD choices ("'Paul Blart' and 'White Chicks'? You are a pathetic human being.")
Librarians, however, must never accept the mark of the beast. We've stood up against the Patriot Act. And we will not allow anything to be forced on us. Unless Nancy Pearl says it's good for us.

This Stereotype Must Stop NOW

Why can't librarians be gung-ho and cutthroat? Why are we always portrayed as gentle, timid people?
First of all, we are not weak. Librarians develop some pretty good muscles carrying and lifting stacks of James Patterson novels. Second, we have all sorts of books on kendo and kung fu. If we chose to read them, we would be able to kick your deliquent ass (if you have fines over $50). Third, we know more about waterboarding than you think. Librarians listen to NPR all the time. We know that torture has been condemned by the current administration. But we're not afraid to use these methods to determine the location of a Kid Rock CD (after the case has been returned empty).

The following excerpts are descriptions of books that perpetuate the myth of the "unassuming librarian." We need your help to eliminate this widespread problem. Please do not buy or borrow these items. Ever.

Fleece Navidad by Maggie Sefton:
"Christmas is approaching, and the knitters who hang out at House of Lambspun in Fort Connor, Colorado, are working on various holiday projects. Even neophyte knitter Kelly is inspired to help in a project teaching children how to knit. The venture is headed by the quiet town librarian, Juliet, well known for her beautiful hand-knitted Christmas capes. Everyone at House of Lambspun loves the unassuming librarian and is horrified to learn of her death in a hit-and-run accident..."

The Return of Don Quixote by G.K. Chesterton:
"Michael Herne is a gentle, unassuming librarian. When he is asked to play a king in a medieval play he reluctantly agrees. After the play is over, however, strange things begin to happen..."

The Librarian by Larry Beinhart:
"Mild-mannered university librarian David Goldberg decides to supplement his meager salary by cataloging the personal library of Augustus Winthrop Scott, an eccentric billionaire. The fact that Scott is an ultraconservative who thinks nothing of buying politicians and even stealing a presidential election does not bother Goldberg..."

Trojan Enchantment by Kristina O'Donnelly:
"Olivia Hayden, 24, mild-mannered librarian from Indianapolis, USA, is a chrysalis eager to be a butterfly. Until now, just about the only aspect of hers fit to be called free-spirited, was her riotous red-gold hair..."

And finally this review by Publisher Weekly of The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger that paints librarians as somehow disabled, and unable to function in real time:
"Henry De Tamble is a Chicago librarian with "Chrono Displacement" disorder; at random times, he suddenly disappears without warning and finds himself in the past or future, usually at a time or place of importance in his life..."

The only realistic portrayal of the profession comes from Full Exposure by Diana Duncan:
"To the passengers aboard the cruise ship Alexandra's Dream, Ariana Bennett appears to be an unassuming librarian. But her real mission is to probe the underworld of antiquities smuggling and find the criminals who framed her father and caused his death..."

Playing Touch Football In Comfortable Jeans

Above is the most annoying television commercial of all time:
Brett Favre is playing touch football with his buddies in a muddy Midwestern-looking field. He's playing quarterback, of course. All of the sudden, one of his teammates is wide open down field, while everyone else is mucking about on the line of scrimmage. In typical Favre fashion, he throws behind his receiver, so that the player has to stretch out to catch the football. The guy falls down in a puddle because of Favre. Thanks, Brett. You jerk.

Many people like myself fixate on the boneheadedness of that play or a just a blind hatred of Favre. Which distracts us from realizing that the ad is actually trying to sell us jeans.
"Real. Comfortable. Jeans."
I don't think I fall into the category of someone who listens to celebrities when purchasing pants. Especially when athletes and movie stars have cash to buy any kind of jeans they want. These famous people tell me they get their jeans from K-Mart of Target. Am I supposed to believe that? That even Dale Earnhardt Jr., the epitome of a redneck celebrity, with millions in product endorsements, is strolling around a J.C. Penney, looking for the perfect mid-rise fit?

Yet I have bought expensive jeans. And it's not because of Jay-Z. It's because they fit well and look good, and they're durable. My last two pairs of jeans are Lucky Brand. The tag that came with them said the following about me: "He doesn't like to rock the boat too much...it isn't his style. No need to chase trends...he already looks good in his mid rise, classic fit, straight leg jeans." Which really isn't too far off from what Favre's Wrangler brand represents: Just a normal guy who wants to be comfortable in his clothing.

What do other brands promote about their jeans?
Diesel is focused on men attracting women. A recent motto reads: "Diesel Jeans gets you there. The rest is up to you." (and then there's this weird humorous Japanese commercial)
If you're going to wear Abercrombie jeans, only one thing matters: you look good with your shirt off. Your chest needs to be shaved and waxed and perfectly toned.
Lee Dungarees uses an odd little doll named Buddy Lee in hilarious ads. I suppose they're targeting men with a good sense of humor, or at least with the knowledge that jeans don't make the man.
Calvin Klein, as we all know, supports orgies, uncomfortable wood paneling, and Marky Mark. Sort of a mixed bag.
Guess Jeans present confusing storylines, sometimes involving Anna Nicole Smith.

So the lesson of this post is...Don't buy jeans from Brett Favre.
If you're a man, just be a man. Not an egomaniac quarterback with limited vocabulary.

Dewey Revisionism

As a librarian, I really don't know where every subject fits into the Dewey Decimal system. I've memorized the numbers I care about: sports = 790, travel = 910, American history = 970, Calvin & Hobbes = 741.5973, and animals = 590. But outside of those things, I try to remember where books are physically located in my library - not by number. My navigation skills are dictated by physical orientation.
But there's got to be an easy conceptual way to think about the Dewey Decimal Classification (DDC) system. Melvil Dewey, no doubt, wanted to organize books in groups that made sense. How much did he pay attention to the order of these groupings? I'm fairly confident there is a linear relation between the subjects. (You would think I studied this in librarian school, but discussion about Dewey was pretty limited; we talked more about Charles Cutter, the Library of Congress classification pioneer)

So, as a memory device for myself, I've created a simplified guide to the DDC. You can picture it as the development of human civilization in nine steps, or as a progression of human thought. It's neither of these, actually; it's more a personal therapy session. I wasn't sure what to do about the subject group 000, since it now includes computers. Computers surely don't represent the beginning of mankind, unless you're a robot. Though I guess you could say computers are now the foundation of most daily activities. Plus, robots will one day rule all over humanity and their infinite wisdom will be valued over centuries of accumulated human knowledge. To illustrate the comparison, I've included the current class designations for the DDC.

Dewey:
000 Computer science, information and general works
100 Philosophy and Psychology
200 Religion
300 Social Sciences
400 Language
500 Science
600 Technology
700 Arts and Recreation
800 Literature
900 History

Jamie:
000 Robots
100 Thinking
200 Believing
300 Sorting Out My Problems (societal ills, mostly)
400 Talking About My Feelings (in different accents)
500 Nature
600 Making Things From Nature
700 Leisure/Partying
800 Writing About My Feelings After The Party Ends
900 I Didn't Want The Party To End; Places I Might Go Next (and wasn't there just a civil war there?)

Titles Of The Week

I could discuss the prospect of losing my position at work. It's something that's definitely weighing on my mind. Hooray for budget cuts.
But that's not my style. I will instead talk about the strange and funny titles on my library's shelves, thus quietly suppressing my discontent.

• Sensual Crochet
• Another Day In The Frontal Lobe
• How To Iron Your Own Damn Shirt: The Perfect Husband Handbook...
  
• Toilet Training Without Tears
• The Bark (dog magazine)
• Party Dancing (instructional DVD)
• Anaconda 3 (DVD starring David Hasselhoff)
• How To Ruin Your Life (By Ben Stein)
  
• The Tacoma Public Utilities Story
• Rockabye Baby! Lullaby Renditions of Nine Inch Nails (CD)
• How To Make An Apple Pie And See The World
• Spiritual Divorce: Divorce As A Catalyst For An Extraordinary Life
• Don't You Just Hate That? 738 Annoying Things
• The Zen of Zombie: Better Living Through The Undead
  
• The World According to Pretty Toney (by Ghostface Killah)

Taking Food From Strangers

What's your opinion? If it's free and it looks edible, what would you do?
Push 1 for: Absolutely I would eat it.
Push 2 for: No, it's got rat poison.
Push 3 for: Inspect it thoroughly and weigh your options.

Today, a regular patron at the library brought me half of a sandwich. We had talked earlier about a delicatessen (notice I did not shorten this term to "deli") I had never frequented. She was adamant that I sample the menu from Viafore's, and I told her I was planning on going someday, but limited by public transportation.
Remembering this fact, she called me this morning at the library and said she would bring me a sandwich. I told her, "You really don't have to do this. It will make the other employees jealous." She quickly came up with a solution: "I'll just drop it by and say it's from your mom." Which is exactly what she did.
She's a nice person and not exactly a stranger...but accepting food from someone who've you only interacted with in several two- or three-minute encounters...is a bit questionable.
So what did I do?

I saved it for dinner and polished it off within a matter of minutes. No inspection. Just ate the durn thing.
I am a very trusting person.
You can take advantage of me easily.
If I had been poisoned by a crazy woman, or maybe it's one of those slow-acting poisons, I want my tombstone to read:

"Possessed a hunger for life and sandwiches."

The End Of An Era

If you consider an era to span 6 months...

My time as a (paying) online dater is over. The Match.com experiment has come to a close. And unlike this guy, I haven't found "the one."
Here are some lessons I've taken from my experience and why I'm not re-upping for another $100:

[Disclaimer: I've made three friends through this process, which was one of my goals. When I moved to Tacoma, I wanted to meet people - so it achieved those ends. So I don't believe it was a waste of time or money. But to continue on this path would probably be frustrating.]

I'm pretty shallow-minded. During my search for prospective mates, the focus was primarily on the photos. If the pictures interested me, I would read parts of the bios and decide if there are any mutual interests, red flags, or intriguing statements. If there was no photo posted, I wouldn't even spend a second looking at the profile.

It's easier to be inconsiderate/dismissive online. Out of all the e-mails I initiated to women, I never received a response back (I only met women when they "winked" or e-mailed me first). I'm not saying this is remarkably different from other forms of communication. Women can choose to ignore you in a number of ways. But a match.com e-mail is easier to disregard than an in-person encounter, a phone call, or text message. So I'm basically paying to be ignored. I don't need to spend money to do that.

Where are all the Tacoma women? This is what I sometimes shout outside my apartment window, and there is only the sound of crickets and hobos. There are lots of women from the Seattle area, but not much to choose from in my hometown.

Too many people like John Grisham. If a woman puts "something by John Grisham" or "Grisham's latest" as the last book she's read, that means she doesn't read. Ever. In this situation, I would prefer honesty. To that woman who wrote "US Weekly," I applaud you.

Women who "love the Seahawks" are actually heavy drinkers. I refuse to believe that there are so many genuine women football fans in the Seattle area. The percentage of pictures of women in Seahawk colors is astounding. Is this an attempt to attract men or can they actually name three wide receivers on the Seattle roster? Neither. They like having an excuse to party on Sunday. Now I think about it, this might be a good thing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So what's next?
Free dating sites are a possibility (such as plentyoffish.com and okcupid.com). How do the crowds differ on paying sites versus non-paying sites? I am thinking of setting up different types of profiles on these sites, and see what happens. What personality of Jamie is the most appealing?
(a) cocky and career-focused
(b) funny and self-deprecating
(c) obssessed with Rick Springfield
(d) Son of God
(e) relative of Osama bin Laden

Woofstock 2009!

Yesterday, I was walking near the campus of the University of Puget Sound, and I noticed something unusual. Several people were parking their cars and unloading their pets. What could explain this mass exodus of pooch owners? I decided to follow the stream of leashed dogs, and I came upon a large lawn filled with dozens of booths and a rock band tuning their instruments. A traffic sign posted near the stage read: "Pets Adopted: 85."

Below the stage was another sign: "Woofstock: Pet Adoption Music Festival."

Forty years after Jimi Hendrix's memorable rendition of the Star Spangled Banner in Woodstock, New York, a lovefest of a different kind was taking place in Tacoma, Washington. Though the t-shirts for sale are tie-dye (and the pscyhedelic font is used to spell out "Woofstock"), no one here appeared to be a hippie. It was just a bunch of people with confused dogs, enjoying the sun and listening to rock music.
If I was a dog, I would be a bit mystified at the events. "Okay, let me off leash now and play with these other dogs! I am a free spirit and this is the summer of love, man." Woofstock, in fact, is not a festival promoting carefree amorous relations between canines. In the parking lot is an ominous truck called the "Spay Station" (above). Looks can be deceiving. On the outside of the truck, a dog and cat astronaut are frolicking on the surface of the moon. Yet inside, I suspect nothing comparable to a spacewalk is going on. Unless you equate the loss of sexual organs to bouncing around in an atmosphere of low gravity.
The highlight for some dogs were the six or seven kiddie pools positioned on the edge of the fair. Some would jump in and twist around wildly, challenging their owners to hang on to the leashes and not get drenched. Other pups would stand there hestitantly, thinking this might be a precursor to a bath, but appreciating the cool water.
Perhaps the strangest thing at Woofstock was the appearance of Heart's former bassist, Steve Fossen. He played a set of three songs with the Kenmore band Somar (pronounced Summer, named after the lead singer, Somar Macek) - all Heart cover songs - predictably "Crazy On You," "Magic Man," and "Barracuda" (which I now always associate with playing "Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas").
When last I checked, the pet adoption total was up to 106. I have to admit, Woofstock is a more comfortable place to consider adoption. You're introduced to pets in a more natural setting - versus a row of sad cages in a flourescent-lit shelter.
I think many of the dogs and cats can echo the simple lyrics of Somar's rock ballad:

Take me to your dreams
Take good care of mine
Tell me that you love me one last time
In my darkest hour
I go to sleep at night
In my dreams everything's alright

Suggestions From The 2 Bus

Everyday on the bus, I receive lots of messages. Messages that I try to drone out with my iPod and by generally avoiding eye contact with passengers. Of course, when I avert my eyes from passengers, I sometimes look up and see the bus advertisements, that are also incredible sources of knowledge. So far, I've learned the following things:

• Smoking is bad (from various memos by miserable smokers who express regret over their habits and how they're about to die; the ads are handwritten to imply that they're real)
• Terrorists are among us (the ad copy reads: "We can always use an extra pair of eyes. Look around. Be aware. If something doesn't look right, please let us know.")
• Don't abandon your baby (that one is pretty straightforward; I can see how leaving your infant in a garbage can or in a cockfight arena might be troublesome)

All great advice.
Still, the bus public service ads are not as convincing as the arguments of other passengers. Today, a man was trying to convince the bus driver that air-conditioned buses are healthier. Without A/C, he insisted, we would just be inhaling exhaust all day. He decided to ignore the following information:
(1) air-conditioned buses only make bus rides more comfortable for 1-2 months a year in the Puget Sound
(2) sudden changes in temperature (from hot to cold and cold to hot) place stress on the physiology of the human body and may make it more susceptible to illness
(3) air-conditioned buses are more expensive and wasteful
(4) freon vapor is heavier than air and can cause suffocation by reducing oxygen available for breathing (although this isn't worrisome unless there's a considerable leak and you're trapped inside a submarine).
The strangest thing about the passenger's complaint? It was a cool, comfortable day.

A few weeks ago, another piece of advice entered my brain: Don't ever steal pickle juice from a crazy woman!
This was confirmed after listening to a lengthy monologue. Here's an abbreviated version:
"It all started with a jar of pickle juice...Pickle juice will clean out your system. I think it's your intestine. Every day I do a few shots of pickle juice - combined with water - and I'm good...He threw out my pickle juice, and I almost broke his fuckin' nose. If I'd had my phone on me, my dad would have been there in ten [minutes]. He would've beat Josh's ass. He's used to takin' on 20 people at once...If only I had my phone on me."

Conversations About Scrubs

I talked to a patron on the phone two times today.

The first time, he began with a ramble of thoughts. I was glad he was could spell correctly, because I could only understand every third word. He was talking about an actress, and he told me her name was S-A-R-A-H C-H-A-L-K-E. Google Images quickly alerted me that she's a cast member on the medical comedy show "Scrubs." I had seen her so many times on the show, but never knew her name. After going off on several tangents, the man finally came around to a question: "What I really wanna know is how she got her career started."
Via IMDb, I told the man she starred on "Roseanne," and before that, she had done some television work and a few movies. Chalke's first movie was called "City Boy" (1992), in which a young man is torn between his logging livelihood and the love of his life (a 16 year-old Chalke). [Maybe the film was playing off the eco-friendly vibes of "Ferngully," released the same year; yes, there's a Ferngully 2]
But this information did not satisfy the man's curiosity. He asked if there was anything else she had done before that movie. I looked further on IMDb and discovered that she had starred in NBC "More You Know" public service announcements. I assumed that she had been in one of them in 1989 because that was the date listed next to "More You Know." I later realized my mistake. She wouldn't appear in a "More You Know" ad unless she was a NBC star, and she only would have been 13 years old in 1989.
Which brings up a librarian critique of IMDb's cataloging (I know - nerd alert!). "More You Know" is assigned the date 1989, because that's the year NBC started running the ads. So I gave out false information to the man on the phone, because I thought maybe she was just an extra in one of these ads before she made it big. The truth is: Following her debut on Scrubs, Chalke has appeared in 9 "More You Know" ads, on the subjects of anti-prejudice, child abuse and neglect prevention, designated drivers, emergency planning, family communication, second anti-prejudice, seat belts, anti-smoking, and substance abuse. Damn, Sarah is a flowing fountain of wisdom.
More than you needed to know about Sarah Chalke.
Rimshot.

For my money, the above interpretation by Zach Braff is better than any of the real public service announcements. There's also this hilarious fake PSA done by a cast member of "The Office."

The second phone call had to do with the man's interest in whether or not Muhammad Ali had smoked or done steriods.