Careful readers may notice (though I doubt it) that every time our beloved leader mentions that no one else is posting, as he did in his excellent piece on that wretched woman, I put something up almost immediately, often of shifty quality. I think this behavior may be characteristic of a severe, deep-rooted psychological issue. Fortunately, I can’t afford no headshrinker, so I’ll just continue on as before…
Good evening, friends, and welcome to a special late-night edition of Dispatches From the Stacks. Well, not really late-night, I guess, as it’s only 10:30 here, but really: I just worked a ten-hour shift and it feels pretty damn late. So I’m going to eat a bunch of peyote and see what I come up with (author’s note: the part about the peyote is not true).
Remember when I handed out last year’s Fuckwit Librarian of the Year Award? I know what you’re thinking: it’s way too early to be calling someone the Fuckwit Librarian of the Year. There are still 325 days in which any number of librarians can display marvelous levels of fuckwitdom. And I agree. But I would like to make an early nomination: Wes Covey.
That’s right, folks, I nominate myself. Why would I do such a thing, you ask? Checkit: last week I ran out of barcode stickers. A minor occurrence, you say, but a somewhat sizable problem for a library. Especially a library that is also the town’s video store, and it’s winter and we’re in Maine. I suppose I should mention, in case I have to, that every new item, be it book or DVD or CD or audiobook gets a barcode. That’s what we scan to check out the item to you, using our fancy-ass Koha circulation system. I didn’t need to say that, did I?
So, it went down like this: I have my folder of barcode sheets in the drawer to the right of my desk. It’s been there, stock full of sheets of barcodes, since I started at this job over a year ago (author’s note to self: this should have been clue #1, Fuckwit). But when I grabbed a new sheet the other day, it was only a half-sheet. Confused, I reached for the pile of sheets underneath, which turned out to be a catalog. Oops. Didn’t I feel quite the fuckwit?
Here’s me a few minutes after the incident:
(Author’s note: this guy isn’t me.)
So now the poor, winter-beaten patrons of my once-hallowed little library must do without new materials for a couple weeks, while we await the delivery of our next 2,000 barcode stickers.
I have more to say, including a few cool tech tips, but I am now both ashamed and exhausted. So, until another day, oh ye most sympathetic patrons, I set down my librarian’s badge.
(Author’s note: 6 uses of the word “fuckwit” in one post? That must be a record. And four author’s notes ain’t bad either!)
Peyote’? Imagine you have ACTUALLY ingested the peyote, a powerful and ancient hallucinogenic. Under the influence, every-time you uttered ‘FuckWit,’ metaphysically, one would just APPEAR! You, would then, (after a few hours; vomiting is also involved), be able to describe what an actual ‘Fuckwit’ looks like to the entire world!
Or you could just get a six-pack and watch ‘Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas,’ (Hunter S. Thompson, how we dig, thee. RIP), and follow along with the book.
awww man!!! I’m dying to watch Fear & Loathing but the first time I watched it, Johnny Depp walked into that Casino, and some real ‘funky’ stuff was going down…. had to stop watching it caused a severe mental/physical reaction… NOW THAT’S a powerful movie.
To the meat of things I think Mr. Covey that you not re-newing your bar codes is not a statement of Fuckwitdom, but the true reason for this—> ‘I think this behavior may be characteristic of a severe, deep-rooted psychological issue.’
Never the less it’s nice to know one is not the only Fuckwit in the world sir.
Thanks for sharing 
(P.S. nearly ready to try watch that bloody film again…it has been 10 yrs lol)
Sorry you don’t have any peyote. Neither do I.