A Robiotic: “Hello, how are you today?”

Robiotics

Hello. My name is Aaron, and I am calling you from a robotic voice-activated recording device…click, whirr…How are you today?…click, whirr.

Hello. My name is Erin, and I am calling you from a robotic voice-activated recording device…click, whirr…How are you today?…click, whirr.

As it were. As it is.

I’m an irregular regular at library discard sales, usually browsing the orphaned texts that possess no universal product codes to reveal their identity for the database-connected; however, among my fellow book-seeking regulars are buyers equipped with handheld scanners that report the marginal value of each barcoded volume: one electronic click-seek at a time…leave, buy, buy, leave, leave, leave — leafing is not only unnecessary but a wasted effort that squanders marginal value.

I’m a leafer, I’m a laugher, I’m a midnight loafer. Sure don’t want to hurt no one.

Inurance

I try to become inured of the unpleasant encounter, the expectedly callous, the inconceivably gullible, the luck of the licentious liar — so far without success. But it leaves me something to write about on this electronic leaf.

I can find the noun Kardashianism  online, but I seem the only person in the Googlesphere searching for this noun: inurance,”

Did you mean: Insurance?

The robiotic keyboard-activated borgs presently responsible for all things “inurance” have found not a twit, so I am coining the word as you read, as the search-bots report back to the robiotics, the results of their crawls. Long live inurance!

Essential absurdity is yet the essential existential explanation.

Abide as best you can.

Thanks for reading.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Heart Libraries

Libraries are sacred institutions, but they are also hated institutions.

old.libraries

Hordes of ravagers have more than decimated vast libraries of unknowable knowledge. Thoughts in bound form fall regularly to fell fiends, book burners, surf Nazis and the ignorami of all eras.

It seems that Gaia has already survived five extinction events. Here’s a thought for a cloudy day — the same sun did shine over each: before, during and after the curtain fell. Same old Sol. How many of those five included library detonations? My steampunk time machine isn’t good enough to slip a nanosecond into the past; however, if I ever succeed in traveling back though each extinction event, I already have a book title in mind:

The Seven Wonders of Five Ancient Extinct Worlds by Bill Ziegler the 1947th.

I’ve recently mentioned the untimely demise of a local library jewel in 1955. My home town is well known for such epic fails. Would that eye rolls might forestall them.

An esteemed librarian recently shared a magnificent find among recently orphaned books — a volume maistly Scotch (language).  Check it out here, or at your local library.

first.port.of.call

Lisa and I lovingly offer resting shelves for orphaned books dropped at the library door. Devoted friends o’ the local library open their basement walls this Thursday at 9:00 A.M. Set your alarms.

Here’s a thought I’ve for you brought — marvelous books inherited are unexpected and sudden fun:  intensely beautiful gilded Danish language volumes (50 cents each), Edwardian Era novels, Bobbsey-Twin originals, Girls of Central High, and the apocryphal So You Like Vacuum Tubes?

bobbsey.twins

Lisa is currently reading this 50-center: First Port of Call by Elizabeth Jordan.

A cult classic with crisply flowing pages like Rock of Three Planets.

We once found two crisp twenty-dollar notes in one book we purchased, each used as bookmarks. Interestingly enough the boxes of books bought that day: $44 for a couple hundred books.

So, how large is our library of misfit books? A few thousand and in every room. A thousand donated back to the orphanage.

libraries

About six years ago I catalogued 1500 of our books online; however, exigencies and other stuff — like time — placed it on the backest burner. It’s on LibraryThing 🙂

Thanks for reading.