can I be a violence prude instead?

I'm currently watching the new Beowulf movie starring pixelated versions of Anthony Hopkins, Robin Wright Penn, Angelina Jolie, etc. There's a large amount of hacking, slashing, rending of limbs, drinking of blood, and other graphic violence befitting an Old English hero legend. But when our hero strips off his armor and fights Grendel in the nude, there always seems to be a knee, sword, shadow, or dismembered monster finger conveniently blocking the view of his nether regions. Kind of funny, actually.

when full-frontal was unavoidable, they found him a loincloth

Now, call me lacking in proper feminine sensitivity, but are penises really a fate worse than dismemberment to witness?

Don't answer that.

And don't get me started on how much of Angelina Jolie's pixelated bod they didn't hide in shadows, strangely enough. Streaks of gold body paint don't count.

Speaking of dismembered monster fingers, it reminds me of the Grendel's arm cake baked by some college friends for the reception after the premiere of their new composition, Beowulf: The Musical. Once I find a scanner, I'll show you. Some of you remember it fondly, I'm sure.

March LNO

What happens when librarians get together down the pub and consume a few beers? Well, sometimes we do Mad Libs. Sexy Mad Libs. And since we're librarians, we use words like "turgid" and "merkin". Look that one up, if you dare.

fun with cataloging

Like I've probably said before, catalogers are a strange breed. It takes a certain type of person to savor the challenge of categorizing the whole of human knowledge, one Library of Congress Subject Heading at a time. I think you need to be either completely humorless, or find a wry, twisted humor in nearly everything. Mostly I'm guessing it's the latter.

My latest discovery involves the graphic novel series Noble Causes, which features a very dysfunctional family of superheroes. First I was entertained to see that one of its headings is
Problem families -- Comic books, strips, etc. Often times catalogers will get specific to the point that the category is no longer helpful- after all, if every book has its own unique subject heading, what's the point? For example, Germany -- History -- Night of the Long Knives, 1934 -- Drama. I have no idea what the Night of the Long Knives was, but it doesn't surprise me that we only have one drama about it. But I digress. Just as I was about to scoff and add Noble Causes' Problem families -- Comic books, strips, etc. to the useless list, I noticed that my library actually has 17 items in that category. Huh. I guess lots of comic book authors/artists have been putting the 'fun' back in 'dysfunction' lately.

Then of course, there are categories in which less is more: Deviant behavior -- Handbooks, manuals, etc.

Just one entry there. And that's probably okay.

push the button, Frank*

Today I received the fourth in a series of emails at work regarding duress alarm training. For the sake of elucidation, I have photographed the underside of my reference desk:

That whitish thing is the duress alarm. It is a recessed switch to help us avoid accidentally triggering it while trying to adjust the motorized desk (which happens anyway, but maybe not as often as it could). In the event of major unpleasantness, which we experienced last month, you put your finger in the hole and pull toward you, and county security, police, SWAT team, what have you, are notified that the library, and your desk in particular, is experiencing duress. An excellent feature to have in a public building. But honestly- how much training does it take? Mind you, this is not training for what to do in the unlikely event of a [fill in duress-inducing situation here]. This is training for the alarm itself. If I don't see the need for the training, does it mean that I don't need it, or that I don't realize how badly I need it? Would I enjoy the training as ironically good fun, or would I later mourn the loss of 30 precious minutes of my life? I may step up and do it just to find out.


*kudos to you if you got the reference. If not, educate yourself.

booksites a-plenty, booksites galore

Oh dear, it has been a while, hasn't it? In my defense, I've been regularly blogging my books over at Book Barker, which maybe accounts for why things are so quiet around here.

To avoid the triple-posting I'm currently doing to get my reading list represented on all the sites I use, I'm considering consolidating and putting everything on Good Reads, now that they have a widget for here on MSR (see left margin), and an app for Facebook. I'll make an effort to get something more interesting posted here this weekend. Hey, maybe there'll be wild stories from our big off-site library staff party tonight. Woo-hoo! If that sentence made you laugh, you've obviously never partied with librarians before.

I Love Lucy

A few things I love about my niece:

1. For several months now, her young toddler vocabulary has included "hummus" and "tortilla." Also two of her favorite foods. Chips are really just a vehicle by which to shovel massive quantities of hummus into her mouth. The soggy chip remnant is then put back in the hummus bowl for the next person's scooping convenience.
   
2. Sometimes when she says "puppy" to my dog, she mimics an adult's lower-voiced warning tone, as in, "puppy, no hummus for you." But when she does it, she sounds like Eddie Vedder, or some other loose-voweled rocker (read that carefully).
   
3. Ever since Christmastime, not a visit to my parents' house goes by without this exchange eventually taking place: Lucy: "Jesus?" Us: "Where is Jesus, Lu?" Lucy: "Box." The Fisher-Price Nativity set. It's not just for Christmas anymore, no matter how many times my mother tries to pack it away.
   

yuppies getting younger all the time

fAs I was out in the library trenches this morning, looking after my beloved graphic novel section, I heard a particularly obnoxious phone ringer. It kept going and going, so I went to find the source and educate them in the ways of library cell phone rules. I stepped around a pillar and there was the culprit: a four-year-old with a Spongebob Squarepants play cell phone. I was prepared to give the phone spiel, or the noisy game/toy spiel, but somehow the combination of the two left me momentarily speechless. Once I recovered, I went with the Sesame Street-ified version of the cell phone policy. I felt pretty stupid, though. Even though the parents are the ones who should have felt stupid. I mean, really- who brings their child's noisiest possible toy to the library? At least she didn't give me some line about being in the middle of an important business call with Squidward.