Conspiracy theories

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“Wow!” said the patron. “My daughter’s name is Jessica!”

“That is, bar none, the most truly remarkable coincidence I have ever encountered,” I gasped between convulsions. I was, as you probably guessed, suffering a severe bout of hysterics brought on by the staggering enormity of the unlikelihood of my sharing a first name with another person. “This is, literally, incredible. This is Bigfoot and Area 51 and the JFK assassination all rolled into one. I am going to call the press. No: I am going to call the president. Right now. Or at least once I stop convulsing.”

Okay. I’m lying. This is how it actually went:

“Wow!” said the patron. “My daughter’s name is Jessica!”

“Oh,” I said.

Perhaps I am just grumpier than normal (though honestly that’s difficult to imagine, but let’s assume so for the sake of argument), but lately I have had increasingly less tolerance for tedious conversation. This is grossly unfair, as none of the topics in my conversational repertoire are capable of generating the least bit of interest, to anyone, anywhere. But though my material is severely limited (viz., my cats, the books I’m reading, my job, the writing assignments I’m avoiding, and the weather), I like to think I deliver those topics with style. If that’s not the case, I hope you’ll be so kind as to keep your observation to yourself.

Digging once again into the Heard-at-the-Reference-Desk files (unless you’d rather hear about my cats…?):

A library patron was railing at me about government spending and explaining to me that the Obama administration was sending us all to hell. For quite some time I was treated to a lecture about the perils of spending taxpayer dollars on social programs.

(I’d like to note that I listened politely, with an admirably neutral expression on my face. )

Then the person spoke at length about how great the library is.

This is my new definition of irony.

(My heroic failure to point out the irony to the patron ought to qualify me for some sort of library service award, don’t you think?)

I’d like to write more, but I am—have I mentioned this lately?—I am rather behind on some writing assignments, and I am fresh out of new stories about the cats (they’re shedding a lot), the books I’m reading (only some light nonfiction over lunch, on account of my reading time being consumed by writing assignments), and the weather (it’s bloody hot). Stay tuned for the next riveting post, guaranteed tedium-free, in which I discuss my role in the JFK conspiracy.

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4 responses »

  1. eleemosenary arcihvist

    No good blog goes unpunished.D-day +65/POTUS 44 gave as good as could be imagined at Normandie,na? The folks singing the Marseilles (sp?) were spectacular.You can catch it on the White House web site,no doubt,but it was enough to inspire a remake of Casablanca.If you learn the words you can dislodge ticks and entertain the sleeping neighbors..OK so yhat’s what one gets for being named Jessica & having a funny blog. happy trails tgb/EA

    Reply
  2. the lesbrarian

    Good idea! If I sing in French and screw up the lyrics, the English-speakers will be much less likely to notice. Also, the tune sounds a little strange on the tuba– though I must say, I played it to great effect when I was in France. Honest. Figured I’d learn to play it, to show the natives that we Americans aren’t completely ignorant of the foreign world.

    Reply
  3. eleemosenary arcihvist

    Madamoiseille(sp?),OK so checked with Wyrd Sisters Witches coven;,twasn’t "Wyvern",but Granny Weatherwax, By the way,how’d you know I was on page 178? Luckily a local Reference Librarian got me a backup volume.While Clausewitz iss like languishing,Prachett presents a pleasant present-day nice sort of intellectual stimulus prior to driftin off to dreamland.La Vie en Rose wins. Edith Piaf lives. Flight to Lisbon now boarding. thanks/out-4-now.tgb

    Reply
  4. eleemosenary arcihvist

    OK,kid, Pachyderm-bearing turtle waddles ever so ponderously though the multiverse as another month named by a Roman Emperor approaches:)see p.157’Equal Rights’ & let us know if ya think exploding book scene inspired exploding page sculpturialbiliophile art thingamabobis soon to be installed in the ditch fronting Croaker venue.Apologies to the artiste if not but who knows? If ya get the French Consul General to send a rep to the festive unveiling you might get better bubbly for the reception.The turtle is too benign for pre dawn though,Back to Clausewitz.Adieu(tttthats all kids)

    Reply

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