The spirit of MARC

This blog is going out to a specialized audience. A very specialized audience. It’s the audience that understands the title of my blog and knows what AACR2 is. The audience that has come across AACR2 22.14 before and, as any sane person would do, snickered with delight. Come on catalogers, you know the rule, the one that gives a specific for accounting for the authorship of a spirit of a book. It brings a smile to anyone’s face and anticipation for that one far off day where they just might come into contact with a book that would need the subfield c in a 1XX or 7XX field of (Spirit).

Using my hella searching skillz on the Library of Congress website I have compiled a small list of amusing MARC fields for books written by spirit guides. There were plenty of  books for notable figures like George Washington and Jesus Christ as well as a book detailing Benjamin Franklin’s and other founding fathers’ perspectives on slavery, but I enjoy the following examples. For those of you unfamiliar with MARC, I apologize. This blog will mean nothing.

100     1_ |a Garland, Judy |c (Spirit)   
245     10 |a My life over the rainbow : |b Judy Garland’s story as told to Lorna Smith.   
250     __ |a 1st ed.   
260     __ |a New York : |b Vantage Press, |c c1987.

100     0_ |a Mom |c (Spirit)
245     10 |a Just love the people : |b the family frequency / |c written by Mom through her channel, Sara Paddison assisted by Deborah Rozman ; illustrations by Sandy Royall.

100     0_ |a Zoosh |c (Spirit)
245     14 |a The explorer race / |c Zoosh, end-time historian through Robert Shapiro.
260     __ |a Sedona, AZ : |b Light Technology Pub., |c c1996.
300     __ |a xiii, 574 p. : |b ill. ; |c 24 cm.
590     __ |a LC copy missing some pages.
650     _0 |a Civilization |x Extraterrestrial influences.
650     _0 |a Human-alien encounters.
650     _0 |a Life on other planets.
700     1_ |a Shapiro, Robert, |c professional channel.

4:08 PM - 0 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Fellows, a new blog

I've started a new blog over on Blogger called 'Fellows.' You may find it amusing, or you may find it stupid. Here's the URL:

http://handsomefellows.blogspot.com/

For those of you that would enjoy some sort of context, allow me to explain. Working at the library has provided me with access to a glorious number of staid and silly portraits of authors and subjects of books. Generally stuffy old white men attempting to look important and appearing, at the very least, anachronistic at this point in time. Making photocopies of these fellows and pasting them up in my cubicle has provided literally minutes of enjoyment for both me and my coworker, Dan. However, it wasn't until Dan pointed out that a particular book with a portrait of Samuel Beckett on the cover inspired a phrase in his head every time he passed it. 'I can't help but think every time I see that book, "Samuel Beckett does not approve." ' Oddly, Mr. Beckett in this particular photo wasn't looking any more surely than he usually does, but Dan's confession inspired me. I photocopied the picture of Beckett along with a hastily scrawled piece of paper that said "Samuel Beckett does not approve" and gave it to Dan. It is still hanging in his cubicle as a monument of silliness.

From there we decided that, at the very least, we needed to find an author that did approve. Admittedly, however, this is a somewhat difficult task. The next inspiring picture trumped Beckett's disapproval by a wide margin. A portrait of R. Buckminster Fuller staring glumly into the distance inspired the immortal caption: 'R. Buckminster Fuller disapproves of whatever it is you think you're doing.' That phrase, sans picture, is now taped above my monitor it work as a perpetual reminder of Mr. Fuller's, or 'Bucky's,' implacable disapproval.

From there, captions branched out to broader emotions, such as Lionel Trilling's licentious advances, featured as the inaugural entry in the blog. Currently my endeavors at collecting fellows has gained new vitality thanks to an enormous Hebrew and Yiddish gift featuring many pictures of old turn of the last century Jewish guys with big fuck off beards and many other examples of the kind of indescribable something that makes me photocopy portraits and paste them on my cubicle wall. So I decided to start a blog and share my ridiculous hobby with the few people that will find it. And you.

So feel free to comment on the portraits, suggest different captions, or tell me you don't get it (believe me, you won't be alone).

6:24 AM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Patently Offensive

Yesterday Paige and I went to The Twisted Fork to try their provisionally named "Flaming Coffee." Paige and I both had a paper on Bestiaries due that evening and so we thought imbibing an alcoholic beverage would be the perfect motivation for writing. The Flaming Coffee is The Twisted Fork's new signature drink. It is a strong cocktail of Bacardi 151, Kahlua, and coffee. Here's The Twisted Fork kind of inaccurate description:

"First, we coat the rim of your glass with fresh lime and then dip it in sugar. Next, we add BACARDI 151, KAHLÚA and our own blend of ALTERRA coffee, plus a few mystery ingredients. Then we light it on fire and things really heat up!"

Since they actually make it at the table describing the process in full, the possibility of mystery ingredients is a bit slim. I honestly think they just didn't feel like transcribing them. Also, they don't light it on fire after everything is in there. It's not like you get a glass served to you with a blue flame dancing around in front of your face. The lighting is actually done when the Bacardi is in there and continues on with the Kahlua. By the time the coffee is added the flame is completely out. Here's a video of one of the waitstaff making the drink: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_nYxRO47Q50

Anyway, it's pretty good. It's no Magellan and Tonic and I'd rather get a normal coffee instead of one slathered in alcohol and flame but that's just me. Also it's eight bucks. If I'm going to pay eight dollars for a drink I'll just get a Tanqueray No. 10 straight up. That way, by the time I'm finished I can forget about the stupidity of paying so much for a drink.

The Twisted Fork has a contest going on to help them decide a name for the drink. The original name was the Flaming Spanish Coffee, but that makes about as much sense as calling it the Flaming Liechtensteinian Coffee. The impetus for entering the contest is two Midwest Express tickets to... somewhere. So people that want to escape Wisconsin are encouraged to buy an alcoholic beverage as their ticket out of here. The survey includes several uninspired names including the "Twisted Coffee" and the "Rum and Smoke" (WTF?). It also includes a space to write your own name in. Given that the apparent operation of the contest is a survey, writing in your name is probably just a waste of ink but it is the most intriguing option nonetheless. Paige and I set to work to think of an innovative name that would never see the light of day.

It occurred to me that satirically associating the drink with its Muslim origin would be an, at the very least, amusing idea. After all, the tension of Americans with Muslims is widely ridiculous and ill informed. The cultural and scientific influence of the Muslim World is far more widespread and important than a few morons with bombs strapped to their chests could eradicate. I think, at the very least, the culture of a people should be remembered before demonizing them to make our military actions seem more sanguine. I thought the best way to do this would be to offend everyone in a pithy drink name written on a piece of paper that would quickly be thrown away. I suddenly thought "The Flaming Jihad" would be a good possibility.

After all, representing a complicated religion with one small misunderstood aspect seemed like a good way to make people uncomfortable. When ordering a "Flaming Jihad" one could not help but think about both the cultural impact of the Muslim world and the stupidity of representing it with an overused metonymic cliché. I was proud of my tastelessness and Paige seemed both offended and amused.

But I was not quite satisfied. After all the idea of Jihad is overused and I don't feel I have the specialized knowledge of its complications to accurately abuse it. However, when in the bathroom, I was suddenly struck with a much more offensive idea and one rife with satirical implications: "The Muslim Car Bomb." I felt I had suddenly crossed the line from offensiveness to complete and utter tastelessness. It was with some pride then that I returned to the table and told Paige about my idea.

Now, before defriending me, here me out for a second. First and foremost, I felt I could write that name down on the piece of paper because of the wide use of the just as offensive drink name The Irish Car Bomb. How that has survived in the popular vernacular is beyond me. Hey this drink has a lot of Irish stuff in it, what could we call it that would exemplify the traditions and culture that birthed the ingredients? James Joyce? Yeats? Something to do with Irish music or set dancing? Any of the plethora of elements that are inexplicably embraced on St. Patrick's day when everyone's suddenly Irish despite years of explicit American racism? No, let's associate it with the deplorable actions of the IRA. That'll make people feel really comfortable every time they order it, right?

At least the Muslim Car Bomb has implications more closely associated with the drink itself. Fucking hell, the drink is on FIRE at one point. The only thing bomb like about the Irish Car Bomb is that you drop something into it. I mean, that's bomb like and all, but it sure as hell isn't car bomb like. Maybe if the shot glass of Baileys drove up next to the Guinness and exploded the two glasses it would be more appropriate but there would be some logistical concerns with such a scenario. On a totally different level, the elements to a Muslim Car Bomb are such a bastardization of coffee that Muslim extremists would, at the very least, shake their heads in embarrassment at the sheer debauchery of it. I mean, this isn't just coffee with some alcohol in it, it's fucking set on fire. They bring the shit out to your table and make it in front of you. The coffee's kind of an afterthought to make the alcohol go down more smoothly.

Of course, this is all kind of immaterial considering I would never actually expect The Twisted Fork to adopt such a patently idiotic name. In fact, if they did with unironic sincerity I would probably be the first to organize a protest if I could actually be bothered to do such a thing. Nevertheless I wrote the name down in the space provided, tongue invisibly planted in cheek. I included the parenthesized comment "Oh come on, like it's any more offensive than The Irish Car Bomb." Paige, for the record wrote down The Flaming Jihad. I would hope that The Twisted Fork would have the good taste to promptly throw both entries in the trash.

Only one thing bothers me about submitting the name: Without the vaguely specialized knowledge of the popularization of coffee originating in the Muslim world, the names are far more offensive as they don't have the possibility of being recognized as satire. Someone approaching the name without that bit of knowledge in tow would just scratch their head at the offensiveness. At that point I may as well have written "Y'all should call it the Nigger-loving Jew Faggot 'cause that's what all y'all motherfuckers are. Now gimmie a Bud Light." But whatever.

Maybe I shouldn't have put my name on the thing...

3:30 PM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Sleep at work

Today I woke up sick. Pretty much, I was consumed by a lethargy that obscured all my other symptoms. That meant that I could fool myself into thinking that, as the day progressed, I would gradually wake up and transform into a fairly competent human being. Unfortunately I only discovered that that probably wouldn't be the case about five minutes away from my destination: At that point I realized that if I couldn't even stay awake while driving with the windows open, there was no way that I would be able to do so while sitting at my computer proofing MARC fields.

The fifteen minute walk from my car to the library certainly didn't help anything, and when I finally sat down and stared with complete nonconcentration at the cataloging program I realized that I had made a grave error in even paying the slightest mind to my alarm clock. At that point I thought a much better plan would have been to crawl under my desk and sleep forever. I decided I had better clock out first though.

This was really the unfortunate gravity of the situation. Sure I could punch out, but there was no way I could make the whole trek back home without falling asleep at the wheel. After I presented that problem to my supervisors they suggested that I find some quite place in the library and take a nap. In fact, they said, there's a small room in the basement break room that has a couch and would be ideal for the purposes. When another supervisor was pregnant she used to take naps down there all the time. Huh, I thought, there's a basement break room?

Indeed there is, but the secret pregnant napping room had apparently been remodeled with the express purpose in mind of not letting people nap there. In fact all the furniture seems to have been designed to only tempt you to sleep without actually letting you realize that dream. There were gray chairs with high impenetrable arms and love seats with the same. But at that point I didn't care, so I dragged a maroon love seat into the pregnant napping room, took my shoes off, shut the door, turned off the lights, and contorted my body into a position that sort of allowed me to be comfortable.

What that meant was placing my arms under my head and wrapping my legs around the arm of the love seat so that they could fit comfortably on the cushion of the chair I had set up next to it. Unfortunately I have a tendency to wiggle around in my sleep, which was not so much an option here. I had three positions which I could adjust myself to but none of them were particularly ideal. There was the aforementioned legs wrapped around the arm position, a slightly less comfortable position where I was on my back with my legs hanging over the arm and the totally uncomfortable (but still used) position where I was facing the back of the love seat with my legs basically sticking up in the air propped up by the arm of the love seat.

Thankfully, I was tired enough that it didn't really matter. I dropped into a fairly uncomfortable sleep for about two hours and woke up close to noon. That proved to be a problem as it was obviously close to the time a lot of people took their lunch and, therefore, the only time the break room was in use. As two people walked in talking about inter-library politics I realized that simply walking out in my obviously disheveled state would be cause for at least a little bit of uncomfortable explanation. I could wait it out but that could be up to a half an hour and there was no guarantee that no one else would come down within that time.

I had more pressing issues, however, I really had to pee. There was an attached bathroom (man, I should just move into this place!) so I put my shoes back on and used the facilities. I also made a half-hearted attempt to work my hair into less of a homeless person style. By the time I got out of the bathroom the conversationalists had left (possibly scared by the mysterious flushing of a toilet) and I was free to drag the furniture back to its original place.

I wandered back up to tech services and was told in no uncertain terms to 'go home,' by several people. After realizing any negotiations were futile I decided to take their advice. I was conscious enough at this point that I was able to make the long drive home without using my airbag as a pillow.

Hopefully, though I'll never have to use the 'facilities' again. Sleeping in that uncomfortable position reminded me of a sleep over in sixth grade where I was left with only one square of a couch as every other inch of the living room was taken up by boys. It was not a pleasant night.

7:40 PM - 3 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

A water spot on my ceiling looks like a breast

Doesn't it?


edit: an attempt at reuploading the picture.

7:19 PM - 5 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Things found in or around books

One of my duties at the library is database managment, a catch-all term that basically applies to fixing things that are fucked up in the catalog. My specific duty entails looking at a list generated by books with the designation 'Lost' and withdrawing them from the catalog. I do this so that when a user looks up a book in the catalog they don't get all excited before realizing that the book is gone anyway. I feel this is an important duty simply because I have many times had the aforementioned sensation. However, I will readily admit that I don't understand why the book is not simply withdrawn, or at least hidden from the user, when it is set to 'Lost' in the first place. Not doing so just seems cruel. But I don't make the policy, so I need to sit around for hours on end repetitively running macros and clicking within the database to fix something that could have been rectified before it became a problem.

One of the things that I need to do when withdrawing a book is go into the item record and delete the 'Lost' status and set it to 'Withdrawn'. The item record contains the status of the item itself, so it's the place you go to see the barcode and whether or not the book is checked out or other sundry statuses. Additionally, if the item has special properties (such as maps or other loose pieces) you can indicate that in the item record as well by using a little 'note' button. It is a rare occurance that the 'note' button is actually used so when the item record indicates that the item has a note attached to it, I usually check it out, just out of curiousity. That is how I found the following note, copied and attached to the item records for Literatura Puertorriqueña: su proceso en el tiempo by Josefina Rivera de Alvarez, Cuentos Puertorriqueños de hoy and Mi isla soñada both by Abelardo Díaz Alfaro:

9:46 AM - 1 Comments - 1 Kudos - Add Comment

A few battles won in the fight against Snack Machines

Using a snack machine can be a tricky prospect. It's an exercise in trust that you are entering when you decide to use a snack machine. Not only that, however, you are trusting a machine with two of the most imporant things in life: food and money. And given the reputation these machines have for failure, it's fairly amazing how often we willingly give up our money to them. After all, it's kind of a precarious arrangement that we have. We give them money, they miraculously recognize it, and they whir into action hopefully producing the desired food.

And then sometimes they don't, and we sit there behind the impenetrable bit of plastic growling at the injustice of it all. Damnit! The snack, so soon desired just hangs there and all you would need to do is tap it. You promise, for the love of God, you're not going to steal anything that doesn't belong to you! You're just going to help the process along. And then, because there's nothing else to do, you give up. Then a fortunate patron enters, sees the situation and realizes that, hooza! they can now get two snacks for the price of one (even if the snack isn't really what they wanted)!

I was on the latter half of that scenario recently and ended up with a practical motherload of snacks because of it. The situation was a highly unfortunate one, a package of Doritos had been trapped by a package of snack crackers that had leaned forward a little too far. Because of the snack crackers' indescretionary balance it had created a plateau for the Doritos, a situation that I can't imagine produced anything except a string of vulgarities from the purchaser of the Doritos.
I didn't really want Doritos, of course, but I could not pass up this gamble. There was a risk involved, of course. What if the crackers simply fell even more forward and created a sort of bridge jamming up the snack machine and giving me absolutely no snacks? What if the rotating spiral didn't rotate enough to allow the crackers to slip by? But I decided to take the risk and, joy of joys, it worked! Oh lord did it work! Not only did I get the Doritos and the snack crackers but I got another bonus pack of snack crackers! Three items for 70 cents!

I can't help but further revel in this situation by pointing out that the Doritos are usually priced at 90 cents as opposed to the snack crackers.

Well, that was a good day, to be sure, but I actually feel more triumphant in todays snack machine excursion even though I only got two items because today was a completely unexpected surprise. Taking a break from writing a paper (a break that has obviously been extend to share this important news with you), I went to the Union to grab a snack from the third floor snack machine. Feeling rather peckish I went with the Doritos and paid for them with my last dollar. The machine whired into action and then stopped, leaving my Doritos dangling there as if defying gravity. They seemed to have moved forward enough, and there was no obvious snags in the system, yet they had not fallen. Instead they hung there laughing at me. 'Oh come on!' I shouted. And then, in some divine gift of serendipity, the machine started to whir again and released not just my requested Doritos but a second bag as well! I don't know what caused this but you won't find me questioning the mysterious ways of the Snack Machines.

The occasion was marked by a laid back camo wearing middle aged man hanging out on a couch. He gave a very Fonzie, Heeeey! I also suggested I try for an extra soda, but I noted I didn't want to press my luck. You don't want to anger the Snack Machine gods after all.

3:56 PM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Buying things is bad

I found the following book in our collection the other day. Unlike my usual bizness with books, I wasn't actually withdrawing this one from the library, instead I was simply placing a barcode on it. Books that haven't been barcoded are usually the ones that have sat up in the stacks completely ignored for time imemorial. When some bored student attempting to distract himself from homework (and whose name just happens to be Nathan) takes them down to the circulation desk to be checked out books without barcodes are usually given them at that point. However, if tech services grabbed it out of the stacks for some reason then it's a student's job to slap the barcode on the book before it goes back up. In short, what I'm getting at is, no body cares about this book. But they should, because it has a very important statement to make. And here it is, from the title page:

If you're curious the tiny print says the following:

The laws supporting capitalism are unconstitutional. They have created an abnormal industrial system which is now facing reconstruction. Peaceful and orderly reconstruction will depend upon its preoceeding according to constitutional law. Disorder and chaos will follow continuance of capitalism.

First of all I'd like to mention that it's nice to know that crazy people have always used the Constitution to justify thier antiquated ideas, even way back in 1919. I'm not saying we shouldn't pay attention to the Constitution, but it's a pretty flexible document, and it was designed that way, so just because you find some horrible conflict of interest with the idea that you already don't like and what the Constitution says, it doesn't necessarily mean that you have a point.

Why this is in our Library I have no idea as it seems to be something that some undergrad would hand out on the corner. Well... it seems to be something he would hand out right? I mean it is, after all against capitalism. They wouldn't charge for it would they? I mean that would just be further leading to the end result of choas right? Wait... what's that in the corner?

11:51 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Important poll

Am I a 'Nate' or a 'Nathan'?

6:35 PM - 8 Comments - 1 Kudos - Add Comment

A Blog to fill the time

I haven't written a blog in quite some time, as some of you may have noticed. There are several reasons for this, including lack of time and a general lack of vision towards the blogginess of my life, but the most pressing reason is my extreme laziness. This is a characteristic I cherish, so if you take issue with my lack of blogs, you'll have to bring it up with Mr. Lackadaisy my monster of otiosity. You'll say, Nathan's not writing blogs and it's all your fault, and Mr. Lackadaisy will strut over to you and say, Eh... What're ya gonna do? and then fall asleep.

But right now, as I sit in a mostly empty library reference room, and wonder if I'll ever get up the gumption to right a critical review of an Information Science article, I've decided to prattle on for a little while and post it on the Internet. However, those of you looking for a new narrative of children's idiocy, a catalog of found flashcards, or even a general description of the annoyingness of being a janitor I'm sorry, you're going to get none of that. Instead, I will simply narrate to you what I have been doing since I've last revealed the complexities of my life.

The most exciting change has come from the acquisition of a brand new job. Now, don't get too excited. As you're all greedy capitalist pig dogs, I'm sure your resonant hurrahs are mostly because of the obvious rolls of bills now popping up my way. Well I have to warn you, I'm only getting minimum wage. That's because the university doesn't pay students very well. And why would they? I mean if you're a student at a university it's clear that you have money to spare, otherwise why wouldn't you be using it to buy something a little more practical than education? Students are a sub-group of the population who have a large amount of disposable income, therefore it makes perfect sense to pay them as little money as possible.

If the bitter sarcasm of the last paragraph wasn't blindingly obvious, I'll explicitly state it here. I'm a little annoyed that I'm spending twenty hours a week to make less than eighty dollars after taxes. So why am I subjecting myself to this? The same reason anyone subjects themselves to a shitty job: experience. And oh lord is there experience to be had here. After I finally move on to the great beyond beyond of adulthood after this silly dual masters detour, I can right loud and proud on my resume: 'UWM library Weeder of books, extractor of space annihilating literary material, general nice guy' All those curious relics of useless information dusting up the shelves of the stacks are being placed near my cubicle (yeah that's right my cubicle) with expectant plans for the liberation of their bibliographic information from the library catalog. So I look them up, run a couple of macros and voilà, suppressed from OPAC, hidden from the prying eyes of library-goers, generally erased from the records.

Sounds like fun doesn't it? No? Well let me tell you, it is. And I mean that sincerely. Sure there's a great amount of drudgery involved, but I can't think of a job that allows more access to the curiosities of a library's catalog than mine. I can openly wonder, why the hell do we have five copies of this. I can discover books that test the intelligence of 'Negroes' published 1982 (!), and I can find the following stamped on the pages of a book:

6:32 PM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment