Three from twentyten

wkurwiamnie.pl

Dear "patriots" (regardless of your political views), here's a little piece of advice: Next time you want to celebrate Independence Day so vigorously, take that cobblestone you tore out of the street and picked up, and hit yourselves in the head with it as hard as you can. If you're still conscious afterwards, repeat until you fall limply to the ground. With a bit of luck you'll get a cerebral hemorrhage and die, leaving normal people to go about their business. This, contrary to what you may believe (I intentionally didn't use the word "think" because if you did indeed cogitate we wouldn't be having this debacle in the first place) is a highly patriotic act. By sacrificing yourselves you're paving the way for a brighter (as in more enlightened and less idiot-ridden) future of the nation.

Season of mists

There's no sense at all in fretting over things I can't control, however the fact that I know this never stopped me anyway.

Thursday the 13th

I dreamed I was having shots with Freddie Kruger, when all of a sudden he started sobbing and went all 'This isn't what I pictured when I started this career' and I had to go through the whole 'There, there' pat-on-the-back routine.

You want sugar with that? No thanks, I'm sweet enough.

Postnasal drip, sore throat and joint pain. Oh joy.

Closure

Finally. Although the heads of my enemies aren't impaled on spikes the feeling is almost as good. Finally I can take a breather.

Medieval state of mind

The fact that Polish state universities really are medieval country fairs successfully showcasing the workings of the feudal power structure in its full blown glory is another matter. But the university libraries! Oh to be a university librarian! It's comparable in standing and splendor only to a court wizard! I've come to the realization that I chose my career very poorly. If only had I taken the path of a university librarian. The power, the glory. The terror I could 'shhh' upon students.

As the web-accessible library catalog was off-line until some time this morning (at which I had already left), and I desperately required access to a particular book, I hauled my ass to the department library only to learn that said book is already lent out to somebody, but if I went to the main branch they might have a copy. That I did. There I started to explain my situation in a polite and civil fashion only to encounter a wall of contempt and dismissal. Fortunately the other librarian on duty offered to assist me. While repeating the conversation I had 30 seconds earlier I took a glance to the right. There it was, the source of aforementioned contempt and dismissal. I had interrupted the librarian's browser game of bubble shooter. O the bungling meddlesome insensitive scoundrel that is me. How dared I! How indeed? At that moment the second librarian stated that she reserved me a copy at the Collegium Historicum Histericum's library. I shuddered remembering my prior experiences with that place, but well, when one's left without an alternative what's there to do.
Now a fun fact: all the online book reservations are (in theory) fulfilled after 30 minutes from said reservation. Not in Histericum. I waited for about an hour, checked my account and upon seeing that the book was still not there I decided to ask the librarian on duty what gives? The librarians there are of a rare breed, one of the three lifeforms which will survive the nuclear apocalypse (the other two are cockroaches and the Japanese). Not only is the taste of dust in their mouths something normal. Their cognitive, motoric and especially communication skills can only be compared to those of a postnuclear mutant, barely cogitating and experiencing visible pain while using language. I asked about my book and was met with what seemed like an eternity of grunts, puffs, snorts and other nonverbal responses, finally I was told that I'm gonna have to wait some more.
I got the damn thing after two and a half hours. A supplicant waiting to see a holy relic is better off. I copied 7 quotations which took me about 20 minutes and left cursing under my breath. Seriously, where do they get these guys from? Do they grow them in vats, somewhere in the basement, adding extra-asshole and retard genes into the primordial soup from which they emerge? Or is that place something like a triple-max security prison for librarians, where only the worst, most hardcore cases land? The guy I had the displeasure of interacting with, while having a countenance of a pleasant, elderly fellow, on the inside was a borderline sociopath, probably waking in the night, mid-scream in the clutches of a nightmare, in which a student actually managed to borrow a book from his library.

If only university librarians were of the 'sack of skin covered in orange fur' type. Then at the very least I could offer them some bananas or salted peanuts as an incentive.