library politics

His wife costs tax payers millions by refusing to move into the White House. The Secret Service is looking into leasing space in Trump Tower…. Think about that. We have to pay for Trump’s security to buy space in Trump’s building because his wife refuses to move.

He costs the taxpayers millions with each trip to Mar-a-Lago, his resort, where people pay lots of money to stay where he stays and take pictures with Trump’s security detail who carries the nuclear codes. It also costs the city’s police department thousands in overtime pay.

All this profiting off the office might only make me pissed off, and not nauseous with rage, if he wasn’t such a damned hypocrite on top of it all.

The next few years are going to be tough on education, and as many have said, we need to support our teachers.

I’d also like to add to that: SUPPORT YOUR PUBLIC LIBRARIES. SUPPORT THE HELL OUT OF THEM.

Libraries provide many valuable educational opportunities for kids and adults alike, and with the impetus of the responsibility of education shifting from public schools to the public itself, they are perhaps more vital and more important than they have ever been in our nation’s history. Make sure they have the resources they need to keep fighting for our children and their futures.

2

Days 2 & 3 of my 40 days of Exam Revision:

• Checked a nice library with a solemn architecture on the campus;
• Narrowed the scope of my IR essay and laid out rough outline with some citations;
• Dealt (more or less?) with Poststructuralism (Critical theories are so interrelated and confusing, guys!);
• Went to a Q&A session for the exam;
• Extra: sent my family in Russia some New Year presents & donated unwanted items for charity!

Four beings parasitical upon libraries

1. The Alexandrian Rook. We are unsure whether this beast was originally a book or a bird. It is believed to draw its origin from the sack of library of Alexandria; the first specimens being either burned and librarian-haunted books that nonetheless managed to escape, or crow-like birds who found themselves able to successfully hide in the book ash. These days they appear whilst roosting to be small books with all-black pages. When threatened with reading, they unfold themselves and fly off. However, over the years they have evolved exceptionally dull titles and as a result are rarely removed from the shelves.

2. The Gentlemen. Each library has its own unique code for summoning the Gentlemen. For example, one might take out and put back the third book on the bottom shelf nearest the door, the favourite book of the head librarian, and each book whose author begins with Z. Once summoned, the gentlemen (who are impeccably groomed) will enter the library. An extremely polite request will be made, usually of something the summoner cannot afford to lose. The summoner’s liver is a common example. The Gentlemen will wax lyrical about how happy this item will make them. Most people still manage to refuse, but are left with a vague but uncomfortable sense of having violated the social contract. No punishment is exacted. The Gentlemen may be heard to tut slightly as they leave.

3. The late fine. Initially animated by Doris of Sendai, the original pirate-witch-ninja, the late fine is a sentient pile of pieces of eight which has spent the past eighty years wandering the libraries of the world. It is believed to be looking for a library from which Doris once borrowed and neglected to return a book on practical cutlass use. Sadly the fees accruing to that withdrawal are now likely to exceed the value of the late fine. Being a rather timid beast which does not fancy a telling-off, we believe it may have ascertained the correct library many years ago and have been avoiding it ever since.

4. The Gudrunsen collection. In 1849, a small village in Northern Sweden was cursed into books by something that came out of a tree in a hollow. The books, which are attractively leather-bound, contain what appears to be an ever-evolving stream of consciousness from each resident. Some are aware that they are trapped in books, though most believe that they are dreaming. The Gudrunsen collection was held in a library funded by relatives of the books for nearly a hundred years, but was accidentally sold to a Finnish collector in the years following World War II. Its current whereabouts are unknown.