apod2

http://antwrp.gsfc.nasa.gov/apod/ap090712.html

dilbertdaily

http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DilbertDailyStrip/~3/HoKAl1Bgxnw/

http://dilbert.com/strips/comic/2009-07-12/

slavezombie
library_mofo

there lived a wicked witch who was impelled to transfer out of her cushy position at the downtown main library to one of the little nothing branches in the outskirts of town. In the small valley of Frog Town there was built a historical structure in the guise of a sea ship. Well, aeons ago, the writer who built this structure made a donation of it in support of the Los Angeles Public Library. I had the good fortune to work in that structure before a completely new building was designed to replace it as the expanding reading community in the area needed a larger library.

Before the new structure began it's construction, many community meetings were held in regards to architectural style and appeal in which the new library would by designed. Nature lovers fought hard for the dinky little backyard patio that was eventually approved. It was believed that readers might retreat for peaceful reading there. In comparison to the giant backyard the old historical building had, the council district approved a backyard in the shape of a back alley encircling the new building like a moat. Before the library in the ship-like structure closed in preparation for the move to the new building, the head librarian decided to retire. Her replacement was the wicked witch of the west.

At the new building, she wouldn't allow any of the readers to retreat to the backyard for reading, and it was too tiny to hold the childrens'/teens' programs that were organized at the old building. In fact, the wicked witch of the west disliked seeing even her employees walk out there to eat their lunch, or spend their breaks; so she made a few calls and had somebody remove the park benches from the patio out to the front of building where they were bolted down to the ground. She was able to achieve this dastardly deed by claiming to her superiors that she was truly concerned about her customers' tired legs as they leaned against the wall waiting for the library to open. Sometimes her customers would peer through the glass to look inside the building, and the witch supported her claim for a need for benches for them to sit on by implying that loiterers would carve their names on the glass.

( click to see where the black iron bench was relocated ) The wicked witch of the west went away, but her wickedness still remains. The employees yearn for a peaceful place to gather their thoughts during breaks but the filth that has accumulated near the new bench locations wreak of urine, vomit, feces, etc. So much time and effort went into trying to make things beautiful for the new library, but… what more can one say? As I step outdoors to warm myself up from the low temperature of the air conditioning unit, I find myself in a spot where I envision the perfect location for somewhere to sit. So I squat beside the bougainvillea which have grown to their fullest potential now.

The original floor plans bring comfort to me, so that one day I might bring to the attention of higher authorities this flaw in micro-management decision making that one hateful hateful woman achieved. Some day I will show them the results of ripped ligaments in my ankle caused by an order to lift heavy furniture and carpeting by this sorry excuse of a librarian. These are the way things come to an end after all, isn't it, just before everyone lives happily ever after? According to the blue prints, may the records show, that the black iron benches were obtained for use within the backyard fences.

Not only do the black iron benches obstruct the pathway to the entrance, people practically tiptoe around all of the muck that's accumulated. Is it a hazard? Could it be any worse if a clan of rats were to infest the books? This horrible tale about a wicked witch disguising her subterfuge with sacrificial hues is utterly true. May she read this in full view that her former subordinates are cured, but bitter over the disaster she toiled.