read between the lions

McLemee in IHE on gutting the research collection at NYC’s public library.

Scott Sherman’s Nation piece of 12/19/11.

email still works when i can get to it. long bus rides are involved so it won’t always be quick.

the phones are down. the service just kept getting worse
and i left it to madeline to set us up some new accounts.
trying to keep the old numbers was a horrible mistake;
the old ones are out of service and the new ones
have *not* been activated after a great deal of
madeline’s time has been sucked up on the net.

all just part of a very tough week too ghastly
to discuss in this format. here’s some *good*
news: i’ve got a TA position at BigState U
for the winter quarter. rather a large pay-cut
from last quarter (when i was a lecturer not
a TA; 5 grand versus 3300)… but this time
i’ll go ahead and put some books in the office
and maybe even make some new contacts;
stuff like that. so reports of my never being
a math teacher ever again are exaggerated.

lamb for dinner. happy birthday, me.
yay madeline.

posted at a pizza joint with wi-fi in the next town over

in other news, my “gmail” account appears not to allow me to “send” (or to “reply”, which may be more to the point). i *expected* everything to have gone to hell by about now but it still *bothers* me…

i’m not there

we can’t maintain an internet connection
and are giving up even trying. not that
i expect to have the same phone for long
but that looks like the way to go:
614.704.4531
.
that probably won’t last much longer either
but there it is. my p.o. box is in effect for
several more months:
box 9679 columbus oh 43209.

what a monumental disappointment
*this* turned out to be.

i’m not there

paul craig roberts signs off at reimagining economics.

why i don’t live at the p.o.

i’m making zines again for trading
in the mail. much the usual thing
when i made my *last* zines, years
ago, was to withhold information
about one’s *residential* address
and publish only a p.o. box number.

so i wanted a p.o. box.
now, i’ve still got the apartment
just outside bexley (in what would
be its upper-right-hand corner
if bexley *formed* such a corner;
but instead there’s an area
of a few blocks including my
apartment complex that’s been
“cut out” in drawing the lines
on the map, so i’m in columbus…
but next to the fine new
bexley jail… where i suppose
it’s only a matter of time…).

but i *live* here on east livingston
with madeline in *her* house and use
the apartment mostly to house my cat
and books and provide a getaway so
madeline doesn’t become my hostage
in her own home like my manymany
wives (and a few of my exgirlfriends
as well). i figured it would be
a good idea to go ahead and set up
the new p.o. box at this end of
town at the livingston branch
a short bus ride up this main
thoroughfare through this slummy
part of the east side. dead wrong.

i ended up making four trips
and standing in four lines
and filling in two forms,
twice each, before i gave up.
and went back and got a box
at the bexley p.o. (in one
try). box 9679 cols oh 43209
(send stuff).

first time: okay, show two forms of ID…
what would have already been enough to
stop me cold a few years ago…
no problem. and fill in some forms,
also no problem. my residence is
in a different ZIP served by a different
branch of the p.o., though, so they’ve
got to run everything past *that*
branch and get back to me.

or not; i don’t remember what they
told me about that. anyhow,
they *didn’t* get back to me and
after a while i went back to inquire
as to the status of my application.
which was, evidently: fallen through
the cracks.

now, this isn’t a complaint about
the service at the livingston branch.
in fact, the woman i dealt with on this
second trip of my four-effort failure
went well beyond the call of duty in making
me feel welcome. she asked me right
away based on my appearance if i was
a photographer. now, if i’d've been
just a *little* faster on the uptake,
of course i’d've said something like,
“that depends, are you a model?”…
but anyhow i recognized it as flattering
and beamed my most winning grin at her
and engaged in some idle banter about
art and life… there was no line
behind me that day… before she’d
checked here and there for some evidence
of feedback from the bexley branch
and told me she’d send a reminder
around to them; come back monday.

but on the monday, there *was* a long line
and the worker i worked with couldn’t find
any record of any of my work so far.
start again: two IDs, fill in these forms.
and i’m pretty much convinced already:
okay, this system’s broken. i don’t
like to have wasted the trip through
the line though so i filed the forms
and came home and tried to forget the
whole sorry business.

you can just *see* what goes wrong.
everybody’s been overloaded with the
work of two people. *naturally*
when some out-of-the-ordinary
business from livingston branch
appears in bexley branch, it gets
shoved aside to be dealt with
when the rush dies. and forgotten.
there’s no *malice* here…
just government-mandated incompetence.
if the system *worked*, they’d
have to break it by overloading
it some more: this is the reaganite
doctrine, “government doesn’t work”
(so let’s continue to tax everyone
while insisting that they get their
actual *services* from for-profit
providers; this has now been perfected
with the so-called insurance reform).

but a little while later, i get a phone call.
it’s set up; come on down and get it.
i was very touched by this personal service.
somebody had noticed my frustration and
overcome the usual get-away-and-stay-away
reaction quite commendably and gone out
of her way to make me feel that, anyhow,
livingston branch takes personal service
seriously and i was *wanted* there.
i’m very nearly teary-eyed, in fact.
“thanks… this means a lot to me.”
god-damn fool.

and the next day i go and wait in the
longish line and no dice. so i give up.
we could probably have worked it out
that day i admit… almost certainly
i’d've been set up in one *more* try.
but this is just one heck of a long
way from good enough. this is the
service you get *before* you give
‘em any money after all when there’s
still some reason to try to impress us.
and i was impressed all right.

it’s the same way in my exjob, of course.
hell, it’s the same *everywhere*.
you get to the end of a long line
at the god-damn grocery? the machine
breaks and of course the cashier
can’t fix it: sorry. try your
luck at the wrong end of *another*
of these long lines. or, what we
*really* want, deal directly with
the machine-that-doesn’t-work
*yourself*, so we can fire the worker
that can’t *work* the machine
(that, by design, doesn’t work).

any job where you actually *help* people?
you’ve *got* to be slowed down in doing so
so people can be charged more for *real* help
from our fully-qualified kickers-up-to-the-dons.
“competition” in the “service economy”.

i don’t have to wait for my body to break to imagine
the service i’m going to get from obamacare:
back of the line. i’ve seen a few good men
ruined already by lack of worker’s compensation
and now government has jumped with both feet
into the service-denial industry to “compete”
with the protection rackets. and i just wish
my liberal friends would stop trying to get me
to approve. that is all.

tales from the occupation

milwaukee public schools in in these times.

be very afraid

teach for america in th’ atlantic monthly.

2 Henry VI, IV.vii

everybody always cites, the first thing
we do, let’s kill all the lawyers.
but the scariest thing in cade’s rebellion
as presented in shakespeare for me is
“burn all the records of the realm.
my mouth shall be the parliament
of england.”.

because, like i keep tellin ya.
it’s a hardcopy holocaust out there
what with everything being turned into
bits and pulp and landfill.
libraries closing or turning into
data processing stations.
entire university departments…
life support systems for libraries…
being sent to retraining by
human resources zombies with
really good benefits packages.
shred your records at the earliest
opportunity was the law of the land
where *i* was last employed
and i don’t think it’s unusual.
cf whatever rant i posted a while
back about paper bank checks disappearing.

this is how “populist” dictators win.
democratic kampuchea probably the
textbook case of “purge the intellectuals”
but they all do it. it’s farenheit 451
all around us every day so dig it please
and hoard whatever books you think
anybody might want to get a look at later.

remember remember

i voted on tuesday weirdly enough.
happened to be walking past the
polling place and there was a guy
waiting for somebody to give
a flier to. what the heck, there’s
no two-hour line like there was
when i gave up all faith in the
here’s-something-to-do-while-
-we-take-all-your-stuff process.
i’ll go see if i’ve been purged.
and i hadn’t. so i went.

never again. what but an
electronic interface that
doesn’t fucking explain itself
and you’ve marked your ballot
and it won’t let you go.
i tried to leave but of course
that’s illegal. the guy
who comes around and
*looks right at* what you’ve
been doing isn’t allowed
to actually push the fucking
buttons. naturally he can’t
work it either and has to
try several times just to
record the transaction.

it’s over. we lost.