Just when I found a good library
OK, so recently I got my Indiana Drivers License. Not because my other license was expiring, but because it was the only way to get a library card, and there is a ginormous library right next door. So 2 days ago I went over there and perused the 3 rows of books on CD. I selected 2, both among my favorite books. The first was Stephen Pressfield’s “The Afghan Campaign.” (I am listening to Pressfield’s Gates of Fire as I write this.) And the second was a 20 hour unedited copy of The Swords of Night and Day which is by David Gemmell.
Anyway, as some who know me can attest, I have a rather strange experience around books. Bookstore or library, the minute I enter I get so wound up I have to go to the restroom. VT Woody used to laugh at me every time we went in because even before finding the exit in case of tsunami or other calamity, I had to locate the restroom.
NEW YORK, April 19 (UPI) — A 1992 survey of 5,000 U.S. librarians, long withheld by a professional journal, found one in five respondents had engaged in sexual trysts among the stacks.
Will Manly, who said the New York-based Wilson Library Bulletin withheld the results of his survey in 1992, published results recently on his Web site indicating 51 percent of librarians in the early 90s were willing to pose nude for money and 61 percent of respondents admitting to renting an X-rated film, the New York Daily News reported Monday.
Ok, so the librarians are randy, whatever. This concerns me though:
The survey also found 22 percent of respondents believed condom dispensers in library bathrooms would be a good idea and 14 percent said they had been sexually harassed by a patron.
I’ll admit that Joseph Conrad and Edmond Rostand get me going too, but damn, can’t wait until you get home? If you are that sexed up, go get a job at the SEC.
H/t Hotair Headlines which I actually use more often than Drudgereport lately. Getting a link from them is like winning the lottery, but no denying they are among the best at what they do.
Category: Politics
Stupid me. All these years I’ve been playing “Guess That Smell” in the New York public libraries, which double as default bathhouses and personal hygiene sanctuaries for flea-bitten bums, drunks and meth monkeys — I mean “homeless individuals.”
We could never figure out what that one last, distinctive, pungent smell was.
Librarian sex. Who knew?