CALIBAN

Off The Road: Calibanning Books and
Brooking Censure in the Library
An adventure into the Styx, by Jake Err O'Ache

Illegitimi Non Carborundum	ISONOMIA
Wednesday 18 May Seminole somnolence was punctuated by the clattering herd of loquacious Calibans reenacting the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona, Italy. Up the steps, into the tranquility of the reference department they charged. The courteous librarian politely requested that they minimize the noise, and they proceeded into “The Zone” - a glassed enclave for teenagers to play video games and entertain homiletic discussions. After thirty minutes or so, they chagrined the librarians and vitiated the patrons when they emerged and resumed their noisy procession. One of them turned, to express an in-your-face: “See Ya!” to the librarians; who sprang up like twin Jack-in-the-box clowns when you turn the crank, and the music plays: "Pop Goes the Weasel". Oh! It was an exciting time! I got up to follow the four teenage boys down the stairs and see where they went? As I got to the stairs, they furtively looked behind them, saw me, and expedited their descent toward their ultimate destination. I am older, and less agile than the days when I climbed five floors of stairs, two at a time, to my dormitory room underneath U-10 football stadium. Three of the boys had launched their skateboards, and the security guard was addressing them as they rapidly departed. Then he saw the fourth boy and his bicycle emerge from the library. The security guard stated that "Bicycles are not allowed inside the building" (with the same attentive result displayed by the other three fleeing suspects). Now this episode would not be worthy of your attention, except that it is so unusual? Perhaps I have led a sheltered life, but this is the first time that I have seen such a blatantly energetic attempt to invigorate the stodgy ambiance of a library.	Bluenoses who added warmth by burning books, did not achieve such excitement! It depends upon your perspective, but the two choices are to maintain tranquility by enervating breachers of library decorum, or to encourage more such apostasy of innovative initiatives. Frankly, I am satisfied by the lively and noisy venue of Checker’s Drive In, which attracts loud soupy cars, Hardly Ableson riders, and stereotype broadcasters of powerful low frequency signals to communicate with submarines. If you are roused from your velleity by the brazen boisterousness of barbaric boys (Romulus and Remus reincarnated?), perhaps you may consider various means to pacify these young bulls. My father had no trouble herding young calves to the corral, roping one, grabbing a front and hind leg to drop it to the ground, where he quickly tied its legs. Legal restraints prohibit such “fixing” of these young bulls. But their longer term habits may develop similar to a fine, powerful bull we had. This bull had a ring in his nose, and would snort and paw the ground while shaking his head (and impressive horns!), before charging toward anyone who dared intrude into the pasture. My father began to carry a pitchfork whenever he went into the field to inspect the cattle or fix the fence. One day the aggressive, intimidating bull pushed it too far. He snorted and charged at my father, shaking his horns to threaten goring and trampling the intruder. My father stood: and jabbed the pitchfork into the bull’s nose. He stopped, snorted, blood squirted out on the ground, and he walked away. That bull was sent packing the next day, on a one-way trip to Herron's abattoir. We got to be Steak-holders with Our Beef. He got his just desserts.
Escape Winter to a Warm Topical Asylum? M.B.'s ISLE Return to: Isonomia.US

Illegitimi Non Carborundum

ISONOMIA

Wednesday 18 May
Seminole somnolence was punctuated by
the clattering herd of loquacious Calibans reenacting the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona, Italy. Up the steps, into the tranquility of the reference department they charged. The courteous librarian politely requested that they minimize the noise, and they proceeded into “The Zone” - a glassed enclave for teenagers to play video games and entertain homiletic discussions.
After thirty minutes or so, they chagrined the librarians and vitiated the patrons when they emerged and resumed their noisy procession. One of them turned, to express an in-your-face: “See Ya!” to the librarians; who sprang up like twin Jack-in-the-box clowns when you turn the crank, and the music plays: "Pop Goes the Weasel".
Oh! It was an exciting time! I got up to follow the four teenage boys down the stairs and see where they went? As I got to the stairs, they furtively looked behind them, saw me, and expedited their descent toward their ultimate destination. I am older, and less agile than the days when I climbed five floors of stairs, two at a time, to my dormitory room underneath U-10 football stadium. Three of the boys had launched their skateboards, and the security guard was addressing them as they rapidly departed. Then he saw the fourth boy and his bicycle emerge from the library. The security guard stated that "Bicycles are not allowed inside the building" (with the same attentive result displayed by the other three fleeing suspects). Now this episode would not be worthy of your attention, except that it is so unusual? Perhaps I have led a sheltered life, but this is the first time that I have seen such a blatantly energetic attempt to invigorate the stodgy ambiance of a library.

Bluenoses who added warmth by burning books, did not achieve such excitement!
It depends upon your perspective, but the two choices are to maintain tranquility by enervating breachers of library decorum, or to encourage more such apostasy of innovative initiatives. Frankly, I am satisfied by the lively and noisy venue of Checker’s Drive In, which attracts loud soupy cars, Hardly Ableson riders, and stereotype broadcasters of powerful low frequency signals to communicate with submarines. If you are roused from your velleity by the brazen boisterousness of barbaric boys (Romulus and Remus reincarnated?), perhaps you may consider various means to pacify these young bulls. My father had no trouble herding young calves to the corral, roping one, grabbing a front and hind leg to drop it to the ground, where he quickly tied its legs. Legal restraints prohibit such “fixing” of these young bulls. But their longer term habits may develop similar to a fine, powerful bull we had. This bull had a ring in his nose, and would snort and paw the ground while shaking his head (and impressive horns!), before charging toward anyone who dared intrude into the pasture. My father began to carry a pitchfork whenever he went into the field to inspect the cattle or fix the fence. One day the aggressive, intimidating bull pushed it too far. He snorted and charged at my father, shaking his horns to threaten goring and trampling the intruder. My father stood: and jabbed the pitchfork into the bull’s nose. He stopped, snorted, blood squirted out on the ground, and he walked away. That bull was sent packing the next day, on a one-way trip to Herron's abattoir. We got to be Steak-holders with Our Beef.
He got his just desserts.

Escape Winter to a Warm Topical Asylum? M.B.'s ISLE
Return to: Isonomia.US