I Can't Fucking Believe I Have To Defend Librarians

 When this blog started, I threw the shade of a sprawling oak over the lunatic fringe better known as the evangelical Christian right. That group is still the lunatic fringe, so how have they seized the nation in their evil iron grip?

Now they're coming for librarians.

Librarians.

You know, those quiet and underpaid people (predominantly women) who check out books and tell you which floor the restroom is on in a whispery voice.

Librarians are being called groomers for showing up at work and checking out books. They are being threatened with firing and physical harm.

Librarians.

I was a bookish kid from the time I could crawl. I've spent countless hours in libraries. I can remember my parents taking me as a toddler. I went just last week to the Haterfield Public Library to ask about the summer reading program.

Sixty years of libraries.

And in all that time, the only librarian who ever offered me books was the one on the Bookmobile that came to my neighborhood in the 1960s. She would have a stack of Dr. Doolittle and Freddy the Pig books for me. Was she grooming me to talk to animals?

I've never known a librarian who was outspoken. I've never known a librarian who tried to befriend her patrons. Librarians are more anonymous than the servant staff of a British estate. If teenagers are paying mind to librarians these days, it really and truly is a whole new world.

But the lunatic fringe is painting this humble profession as a den of vipers, out to turn straight kids gay by having LGBTQ books on the shelves.

I am genuinely curious, readers. How do you choose what book to read? Do you ask a librarian for a recommendation? I literally haven't done that ever. The Bookmobile librarian brought me Freddy the Pig books because my mom recommended them. When I outgrew my mom, I had friends. In 60 years of using libraries, I have never asked a librarian for a recommendation.

But the librarians choose the books that get put on the shelves, right? Well, let's take a look at that task.

There are hundreds of books published each month, and I've never seen a library that didn't have a tight budget. This means that acquisitions librarians (who are even more shy than the ones at the desk) read the trade publications and choose the books that get the best reviews. If these acquisition librarians have any agenda at all, it's to try to stock books in a way that all the readers using the library will find helpful.

So, having conquered abortion rights, having distributed lethal firearms far and wide, now the lunatic fringe is coming for those gentle creatures who check out books, just because the gentle creatures have titles that include all kinds of people, and not just lunatic fringe people.

This is like the fucking Red Scare.

Librarians. It boggles my mind. It's like blaming chipmunks for your cat clawing the furniture.

Shout out to the lunatic fringe: Threaten the librarians, by all means. But don't hesitate to trust that clean-cut youth pastor who wants to build blanket forts for late-night "Bible study." He's all up and up.

Fascist morons.

Another Haterfield Rant: Leaf Blowers

 Ah, beautiful! It's Friday afternoon after a long week, the temperature is a balmy 65, and the sun is beaming down. Bliss?

Sorry, Bamp! Wrong. No bliss. Five o'clock, and my jackass millionaire neighbor has his landscaping crew scouring every inch of his sucky property for the one leaf that the leaf blowers didn't find last fall.

Don't you just fucking hate leaf blowers? I can't think of a tool I despise more. Loud, stinking, and stupid is no way to present yourself to the planet. And yet I smell and hear this pestilential equipment going full bore, just as I sit down on the porch with my mocktail. I deserve better.

Granted, I do not have a very big yard. But I rake it from back to curb a couple of times a year, with a damn rake. All you hear with a rake is scrape scrape scrape, crackle crackle crackle. And you don't smell a thing. I'm 63 and I still rake my yard. My neighbors half my age crank up their leaf blowers dozens of times a year. Yet somehow, I don't have any more leaf litter in my yard than they do.

Many and many a Saturday morning has been marred by the gas-powered blowing menaces. Here I am, biffing out onto my front porch with a steaming cup and the morning paper, and OOOOOOOoooooooOOOOOOOwwwwOOOOOOOwwwoOOOOOO. The leaf blowers start moaning. Here I am, biffing back inside to the kitchen table.

I hear that California has banned gas-powered leaf blowers. A sound move. Did you know that a leaf blower emits more pollution than a car? Way more. A thousand times noisier too.

Mr. J actually joined the Haterfield Environmental Commission in an effort to get some local leaf blower ordinances going. Ha! He lasted six months. In that six months, the Commission talked endlessly about backyard hens and nary a breath about leaf blowers. "Bad for small businesses, any kind of ban," the town councilman sniffed.

Can you believe that bunch wanted me to write an essay about micro meadows for their "Gold Star Community" checklist? Suck it, Haterfield. I'm not writing squat for you.

So here I am, all ranty and pissy on a Friday afternoon, instead of basking in the glow of spring sunshine.

Is it any wonder I bought four acres of trees? All leaves welcome, all the time.

You're Really Dissing the Thrift Store, Country Magazine?

 It's President's Day weekend, and what does that mean? Everything's half off at the thrift store! And whoa, doggies. The place was packed.

Have you seen the average thrift store shopper these days? No you haven't, because all kinds of people shop at the thrift store now. Lots of artsy Gen Z, lots of handsome metrosexual men, and lots of school teachers. Tons of school teachers.

I have a favorite thrift store that I visit at least once a week for retail therapy. Over the years I have almost completely outfitted myself and my house from that store. I've gotten towels, bath rugs, sheets, bedspreads, throw pillows, small pieces of furniture, books, shoes, decorations, and small kitchen appliances there. Clothing? Almost all my clothing comes from the thrift store. The only clothing I buy retail is fairy attire!

Fact: Last week I went to Target to buy a Valentine's Day gift for Mr. J. I picked up the one thing I'm loath to buy at the thrift store (underwear) and saw a cute set of pajamas that I liked. With Mr. J's gift I spent ... get ready ... $70. My jaw dropped. That's three or four hefty hauls from the thrift store!

So you can imagine my surprise when Country Magazine, that chic bastion of finding cute stuff at the antique mall, came out with an article entitled "40 Things You Should Never Buy at the Thrift Store."

40, mind you. Should have titled it "Don't Shop at the Thrift Store, Buy Something Expensive Instead."

Needless to say, I was intrigued to see what Country Magazine deemed unworthy of purchase from a thrift store.

*Old furniture. Might have lead paint. As opposed to stuff at the antique mall, which is presumably pristine.

*Anything upholstered. Well, they don't sell such things at my thrift store, thank you very much.

*Bedding. Might have bedbugs. Except you can see the industrial-sized washing machines in the back room at the thrift store.

*Stuff for kids, as in, car seats, strollers, and toys. Excuse you, Country Magazine. While my local thrift store is chock-a-block with cutie pie young skinny guys, it's also always full of poor people. You know, the people the thrift store is supposed to serve. And those people might not be able to go out and buy a brand new car seat. Shit's expensive.

*Throw pillows. Again, bedbugs. The magazine's advice? Buy a throw pillow from Target, where it's $10 - $20. News flash: $20 will buy 10 pillows at the thrift store. It's a bedbug gamble, but so is staying at the Hilton.

*Clothes. Say that again? Yes, you heard me. Clothes! They might be torn or stained, and you can't return them! For the love of fruit flies. As if anyone goes into the thrift store, plucks something from the rack, flips it on the counter, and doesn't so much as glance at it to see if it's stained! I'll admit, I did buy a shirt two weeks ago that is missing the bottom button. But stains and tears? Everyone checks for stains and tears.

*Anything that smells bad. Duh. That's advice for trash-pickers, not Goodwill shoppers.

*Kitchen appliances. They might not work. Well, let's see. I got my crock pot there, and it works. I got my hand mixer there, and it works. Case closed.

In this slideshow article, the list goes on and on, and most of the stuff on it isn't stuff I see in the thrift store where I shop. Who buys old windowpanes at the thrift store?

I can't imagine that many readers of Country Magazine actually shop in thrift stores, but I guess maybe the sport is getting so trendy that even rich faux-chic snobs are going there now. I'm stretching it with this one, but do you think perhaps Target paid the magazine to run such a spurious slide show? Hmmm. 

One last powerful point to this sermon, and it's the kind of whopper of a point that would bring any new congregant to the altar call. Have you read that little tag on the brand new pair of blue jeans you bought at Target? WASH BEFORE WEARING. WASH SEPARATELY. You see this on everything new. Everything. So how is that different from bringing home thrift store garments and flinging them in the washing machine? Well, maybe all the poisonous dyes have been leeched from the thrift store attire already!

I'll bet you're wondering what I bought today at the thrift store. Oh, readers. I got an NFL brand zippered hoodie with the Eagles logo, in my size, for $2.50. Have you priced out official NFL merchandise in the retail sector? Don't. Go to the thrift store, especially after the team has had a bad year.

There will be more in this space about the thrift store in coming installments. But this sermon has run long, and I know you want to get on with your day.

 

Free Advice on What Not To Say at Work

 Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," home of one proficient (not distinguished) teacher. If you're a teacher yourself, you probably know just what I mean.

I totally expected the transition back to full-time teaching to be stressful. How could it not be? Last year I spent most of my days "teaching" from a recliner, while covered by the ample rump of Gamma Cat.

But this transition has been horrible. Worse than anticipation by a country mile.

I won't even go into the standardized testing (seven days out of the first 25, including the past two days). Nor will I dwell upon the fact that the assistant superintendent decided that the AP Lit kids would be better off with a substitute teacher than with me, when their teacher went out for emergency surgery. (Long story)

But what I will dwell upon here is toxic positivity. It's been a problem in my school district ever since I've been there.

Maybe you have this poison in your workplace, too?

"Let's all be positive here! If you just try being positive, you'll feel better!"

When someone says this, here's what I actually hear:

"It really sucks to work here, but don't you dare acknowledge that. Cover it up with a smile, and take whatever drugs you have to in order to keep that smile on your ugly mug."

Today we had another round of standardized testing. I hate using the computer programs and often fuck it up (including today). And yet two administrators tried to coax one of those phony baloney smiles out of me.

I wasn't having it. I'll smile when there's reason to smile, not because I'm told to smile.

But wait. There's more!

At lunchtime I have a paid "duty" in the cafeteria. I enjoy it, actually, because I'm buddies with all the janitors, and we joke around. Today, the new vice principal came in. She asked me how I was doing, and I admitted to being pretty stressed out.

Her response? "Ah, just have a glass of wine when you get home."

Wait. What?

Free advice to my three readers: Never recommend a glass of wine for a stressed-out employee! You might be speaking to an alcoholic.

This is what I mean by "toxic positivity." Instead of recommending a glass of wine, middle managers should be taught how to acknowledge the reality and severity of the stress. Just fucking listen.

OMG INTERRUPTING THIS RANT FOR A WORSE ONE!

William Shatner breaking down in tears because Jeff Bozos sent him into orbit? GAG ME WITH A PLATINUM SPOON.

You know what I'm positive about? I'm positive all billionaires should be eaten. With or without a glass of wine.

The News from Texas

 I know you've heard all about it. Texas has a new law that forbids abortion after six weeks of pregnancy. Oh, shucks, let's dispense with the formalities. Texas has made abortion illegal, and the Supreme Court has wink wink nod nod approved of it in the middle of the night.

This is a tricky little dodge that the Texas state legislature has passed. It's not the long arm of the law that's gonna enforce the abortion ban, it's ordinary Texans. They can report anyone who is getting an abortion, or anyone who helps in any way. Maybe what we would call a "citizen's arrest." And there's a nice bounty of $10,000 for any tip that leads to prosecution.

The law is so draconian that you practically have to reach back to Stalin and Mao to find precedent. But pish tosh! It's fine with the Supreme Court!

It's fine with me too, mainly because this kind of shit reminds me what a blessing it is to live in New Jersey, the Garden State, may the Gods guard and keep it!

You know why else it's fine? I'm all for this whole citizen cop thing. After all, the Supreme Court has approved, right? So let's get some good out of this.

I am contacting my state legislature. I think they should pass a bill that makes gun ownership against the law, except for active duty military. Any citizen of New Jersey can report a gun owner, or anyone who drives the gun owner to buy a gun, or anyone who operates a firing range, or golly, anyone who sells ammunition and camouflage clothing! I'm really cool with that $10k reporting fee, too. I will be really vigilant about turning in all those criminal gun owners out there.

Tell me how this is differs from the Texas law? Guns kill. Let's get them out of the hands of potential killers. And get paid to do it. Supreme Court will have to help us, because, you know, quid pro quo.

I'll bet I could think of a dozen laws for citizen vigilantes to handle. Take leaf blowers, for instance. What we need is a good stiff law that prevents people from using leaf blowers except for Saturday afternoons in October and November. Pollution! Noise! Where are my citizen crime fighters?

In all seriousness, I truly hope this abortion ban is the tipping point that turns Texas blue. How can a majority of citizens approve of ending abortions? (Legal and safe ones, anyway ... there will never be an end to abortions.) Come on, Texas! Vote the bums out. Start with the guy who flew to Cancun when the whole state was frozen solid and people were dying of hypothermia.

Texas gals, if you can make your way to New Jersey to "visit the historic Stone Pony," you can stay at my house for free. Wink wink, nod nod.

Mackenzie Scott Should Read the Bible, or Be Eaten. I Don't Care Which.

 Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," where we don't comfort the afflicted ... we afflict the comfortable. Today's comfortable person is Mackenzie Scott, formerly Mrs. Jeff Bezos.

In case you haven't heard, this chewy and nutritious plutocrat has been giving billions of dollars to the charities of her choice.

I found out about this by seeing a Facebook page called "YOU Are Now RBG." This article was posted, followed by dozens of ordinary women, applauding dear Mackenzie's generosity.

When I dared to suggest that someone who has $60 billion giving away $4 billion is laughable, insulting, and grounds to be chopped up for soup, I got scolded. I was (in no specific order):

*anti-feminist

*hard-hearted

* cynical

* a danger to woke society

Several clearly intelligent women seemed to have a complete inability to grasp the fact that giving four dollars away when you have 60 dollars is nice, but giving $4 billion away when you have $60 billion is LAUGHABLE.

"But she has plans to give away half her fortune!" one Karen exclaimed.

Half of 60 dollars is a lot. Half of $60 billion is NOTHING.

This person could give away 99.9 percent of her wealth and still live large. She would still have millions!

Next question: How much did she pay last year in taxes to the government of her native land? The answer is not available, but my guess is, not much. Certainly nowhere near the percentage we common middle class scum pay. And why give money to the U.S. government when you can fund theater projects and colleges? Well, let's start with public fucking schools. And go from there. Did you know that America's senior citizens have to pay the entire cost of hearing aids? And there sits Mackenzie, on a fortune that would buy hearing aids for every damn senior citizen in America.

Final question: How did Mackenzie Scott acquire $60 billion (with a b) dollars? Well, for those of you who do your shopping in stores, there's a company called Amazon that has practically monopolized the purchase and delivery of every item you could ever want. Amazon has done that by creating inhumane conditions for their workforce and by strenuously blocking efforts at unionization of said workforce. It's basically the 21st century's answer to coal mines and shirtwaist factories.

So, to the dear feminists at "YOU are now RBG," I've got to say: This is not about a woman. It's about an owner who exploits workers. Who does Mackenzie Scott think she is? To me she seems like some emperor of old, flinging ducats into the crowds of starving subjects on Festival Day.

EXHIBIT A: FEED HER TO GRITTY

Speaking of Festival Day, this is Juneteenth! Now a federal holiday! I had 12 years of public schooling, then four years of college, then a lifetime of reading and watching the news, and I never heard of Juneteenth until last year. So please allow me to catch up and learn how to celebrate this holiday before I begin to comment on it.

This sermon will end with that rarest of recommendations from "The Gods Are Bored." Mackenzie Scott should read Jesus Christ's advice to the rich man, and then follow it. Same goes for anyone who has more money than they could spend in 100 lifetimes.

An Open Letter to the White Boomer Singers at the Farmer's Market

 Dear White Boomer Singers at the Haterfield Farmer's Market:

What in the name of red-eyed fruit flies are you thinking, daring to cover "What's Goin On?" For the love of all that's holy! Just because you're Boomers with guitars (acoustic), that sure doesn't make you worthy to sing Marvin Gaye! Sweet Jesus in the manger. Here I am, on my first maskless outing since March 13, 2020, and I have to hear some gray-bearded white guy mangle "What's Goin On?" What a buzz kill.

Music is an infrequent topic here at "The Gods Are Bored." I'm not a rock snob. But I do know a bit about music, having written for an American Music reference book for five years. Point of fact, one of the entries I did was on Marvin Gaye.

You can search far and wide through the canon of mid-century American music and not find a more soulful song than "What's Goin On." Or its sister "Mercy Mercy Me." Marvin Gaye went way out on a limb putting together that album. The people at Motown were against it, but he persisted. And thank all the bored Gods he did, because his velvety voice questioning war and brutality and pleading for brotherhood was unparalleled. That is some deeply moving music, there.

I remember when that song first came on the radio. It turned my head. I was always a Motown fan, but this was different. And what made it different in a groundbreaking way was the actual presentation of the song. Marvin owned that music. His voice was like a warm pool he had built himself, and he was swimming around in it.

Maybe he should have taken those songs to the grave with him.

The effrontery of two saggy white people covering that at a farmer's market in a damn near segregated suburb! You cannot sing that well, chumps. Even if you could sing, you couldn't sing that. You can't sing "What's Goin On." Stop. Stop. Stop.

One Saturday morning before the pandemic, I found myself at the Berlin Flea Market, which is quite a different vibe from Haterfield. That market had hired a similarly craggy Boomer dude to provide some music. He sat down on a stool and gave up some high quality Bob Seeger. It was sublime. Then he did a little Gordon Lightfoot, a little Chicago. The man was on safe turf. He was where he should be. No Motown! Dude had some respect.

White people singing at farmer's markets should stick to any damn country song about losing your girl, your dog, your pickup, and your gun. No white person has any business covering Marvin Gaye. Don't do it again, unless and until you wake up some morning and you actually are Marvin Gaye.

Brother brother brother.

Expendable

 In end stage capitalism, the only lives that are important are the owners. The workers matter not. Someone keel over? Replace the slave and move on.

This is driven home by the push to re-open schools fully, before the real end of the pandemic is in sight. Teachers are expendable. Students are expendable. And with no differentiation between a cluster of kindergartners and big, crowded classes of 15-year-olds, there is bound to be a spike in the virus. A big one.

I read the New York Times every day, and for hours on Sunday. I know the works of all the prominent columnists. It was expected to see David Brooks slam teachers for not wanting to be in school. Not surprising. But when Nicholas Kristof offered his slam a week later, well. I thought he cared about low-paid working people.

Teaching is a profession that has a high percentage of women serving in the basic role of classroom instructor. Most men who enter the profession (including the new Secretary of Education) spend, at most, four years in a classroom while completing their principal certification. The men move up. Most of the long-time classroom teachers are women.

And that means that teachers are expected to martyr themselves for their students.

Don't believe me? Who "saves the day" by getting killed during school shootings? Some poor heroic teacher with a family at home.

Now teachers are being sent back into classrooms prematurely, when the end of the pandemic could otherwise be in sight. I teach high school. This will matter greatly to my students. They are 14 through 16. They and their families will be at risk.

To be fair to my district, they are offering parents the option to keep their kids at home. Those students will go to class virtually, as they have been doing since September. The difference is, teachers will now be instructing in-person classes and online classes simultaneously, while wearing a mask.

The teachers who are already doing this report that it is a massive, overwhelming fail.

My classroom has no air conditioning. In the last 4-5 weeks of school, the temperature can climb to 90 degrees and stay that way. It's global warming in miniature, like a car.

So picture me, Anne Johnson, a teacher of a certain age, working in a stifling hot classroom, in a mask for four hours without a bathroom break. Because that's what I'm looking at, comrades. I have a colleague who will have five hours straight. She's older than I am.

If David Brooks and Nicholas Kristof happened to ring my doorbell right now, I would quickly plug in the cattle prod and give them a good what's for. I never had much respect for Brooks, who is sanctimonious on a good day. But Kristof was one of my favorites. No more. The only way he could redeem himself at this point is to swap jobs with me for the next three months. Then we would see who knows what.

Official Statement from the Grand Wazoo of Johnsonia on the Recent Traitorous Rebellion in the USA

 January 7, 2021

The leaders of the Independent Republic of Johnsonia hereby express our dismay at the unsuccessful but nevertheless alarming insurrection in the United States of America that occurred on January 6, 2021.

 For 200 years, the United States has been held in high esteem (not always deserved) as a bastion of freedom and justice. The reckless and lawless behavior of January 6, urged upon a rabble by the sitting president, is a stark departure from the orderly operation of government most often associated with America.

Good leadership is important, and the lack thereof can be catastrophic. The inability of Donald Trump to govern the United States is the entire reason that Johnsonia declared independence in favor of home rule. We see now that our decision in this regard was a sound one. Our thoughts and prayers go out to the citizens of the United States, in hopes that this dark episode will not be repeated in this or any other era.

Respectfully submitted,

Anne Johnson

Grand Wazoo, Independent Republic of Johnsonia