Posts on funny

Show of hands: who's over vampires? Put down your hands. Okay, now, who's over zombies?

I still hear people asking, "What's going to be the next big trend?" After vampires, they mean. And I wonder where they've been. How have they possibly missed the outbreak of zombie titles published in just the last two years, including the following:

• Brains for Lunch: A Zombie Novel in Haiku?!, by K. A. Holt
• The Enemy, by Charles Higson
• The Forest of Hands and Teeth (and sequels), by Carrie Ryan
• Generation Dead (and sequels), by Daniel
• I Kissed a Zombie, and I Liked It, by Adam Selzer
• The Midnight Curse, by L. M. Falcone
• Nathan Abercrombie series, by David Lubar
• Never Slow Dance with a Zombie, by Ehrich Van Lowe
• Tales from the Crypt, No. 8: Diary of a Stinky Dead Kid
• Xombies series, by Walter Greatshell
• You Are So Undead to Me (and sequels), by Stacey Jay
• The Zombie Chasers, by John Kloepfer
• Zombie Queen of Newbury High, by Amanda Ashby
• Zombiekins, by Kevin Bolger

And that's just some of the children's and YA books. Go older and there's more, and not just horror stories, either. Mysteries, romances, parodies, thrillers, science fiction... seriously, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies popping up on the New York Times Bestseller List didn't clue you in?

I'll admit it: zombie books gross me out. Dead things gross me out in general, and zombies are, well, dead. Disgustingly so. Rotting. Stinky. And, somehow, slobbery. So while I can appreciate that zombies make good fodder for a horror story, I have trouble fathoming the books in which zombies are the good guys. Even worse when they're the romantic interests. Um, ewwwww?

Anyway, this is me raising my hand to say that, yes, I am over zombie lit. That's why I was so tickled when my friend L. just shared this hilarious article, "Seven Scientific Reasons a Zombie Outbreak Would Fail (Quickly)." Whether it's due to putrefaction, inefficient spread of disease, or America's crap-load of guns, suddenly the zombies are seeming a lot less menacing. Now if we could just stem the flood in publishing.

What's after zombies, you ask? Well, paranormal lit will continue to be a dominating force for a while, I imagine. There are still plenty of ghost stories coming out, plenty of urban fantasies with mean, nasty fairies. And there are dystopian novels coming out of our ears. I have the same problem with literary fads as I do with a large order of mozzarella cheese sticks: one minute you've got a delicious, savory treat, the next you've got indigestion.

Hmm, I wonder: do zombies ever get indigestion?

Joe pointed me to this fun article in the Morning News. The writers interviewed their kids about their summer reading—what books they're reading, what they learned, how much the author gets paid—whence comes the article's title, "The Seven-Cent Advance." The results are amusing. Also, I'm so happy that the going rate for trade fiction seems to be much higher nowadays.

My friend Rie pointed me to this adorable video of University of Washington MLIS students performing Lady Gaga's "Poker Face"—reinvented with library-centric lyrics. Prepare to be ear-wormed! ("Can use my, can use my, yeah, you can use my catalog...")

Joe saw this ad while laid over at the Las Vegas airport. Say what you will about Sin City, the Las Vegas-Clark County Library District sure makes going to the library look like a lot of fun!

(Okay, it also looks like... other things. But still... fun?)

Jackson Pearce, young adult author and creator of "Imaginary Writing Process" (among other YouTube videos), is at it again. This time she's outdone herself with a hilarious music video—with truly fabulous dancing—about that bane of authors everywhere: writer's block.

As my friend M. put it, if this is what Jackson Pearce does when she's got writer's block, at least she's putting her time to good use!

(Via Abby the Librarian.)

Those of you who read Shel Silverstein's The Giving Tree as the story of an abusive, codependent relationship should appreciate today's Brewster Rockit:

(Thanks to my boss for sending this along!)

For the record, I am not one of those librarians who believes children need to be "protected" from the realities so gently and naturally portrayed in such books as And Tango Makes Three and In Our Mothers' House. There are different kinds of families out there. Some of them have two moms or two dads. The end. It's not nearly as hard as some people make it out to be.

So when I say I have a problem with the new picture book Dottie the Sock: How I Found My Match, by Christine Gayle (self-published, 2009), it's not a moral one. No, it's a problem keeping a straight face. I'm sorry, but I cannot read, speak, or even think the words "lesbian sock" without dissolving into laughter.

I'll even ignore, for the moment, that clothing has no innate sex or gender, much less desire. I'm a fantasy reader. I can suspend my disbelief. But consider this: most socks are worn in matched pairs. I guess I've always thought of socks as identical twins rather than romantic couples, but assuming the latter, wouldn't it be the norm for socks to be (to borrow a coworker's expression) homosoxual? Heterosoxuals would be the odds ones out.

Or maybe, just maybe, that's point. I'll have to suspend further judgment until I meet Dottie for myself.

(Via AfterEllen.)

This post from the always-amusing blog (The Customer Is) Not Always Right amused me: An Offering to the Literary Gods.

You know, I could do with a nice, crusty loaf of bread right about now. Patrons? Hello?

But skip the flowers. My allergies are driving me crazy as is.

This 10-ish year old kid just came up to the desk, all smiles.

"Have you signed up for the summer reading club?" I asked.

"Of course!" said he.

"Good man. I see you're reading Foxtrot. Nice."

"I love Foxtrot. Sometimes I take two books. I check one out and hide the other one here for next time."

"Oh, really?"

"Yup. I've got a special hiding place behind one of the shelves. It works, too! I came back three weeks later, and it was still there."

"I see. So, now when I can't find a book, I'll know who to blame."

He had the good sense to look guilty.

"You know," I said, "you can reserve a book, if you want to make sure it's here for you. As a librarian, I have to tell you, I can't get behind book-hiding."

"Oh. Oh. Okay."

Several minutes passed, and the boy walked by with his mother and another Foxtrot book. I overheard the boy say, "Should I hide it, or hold it?"

His mother, bless her heart, said, "Don't hide it!"

I called over, "Don't hide it!"

"Awwwww..."

I did find it rather sweet that he trusted me, the authority figure, to appreciate his nefarious secret. Sweet, but stupid.

At least he loves to read!

Yesterday some pals and I were discussing the marvelousness of How Did We Find Out About Vitamins? and started to get into some of the other dubious treasures I've found while weeding. So, without further ado, here are a few more tales (and photos!) from the weed patch.

Kids still dream of being firefighters, police officers, teachers, doctors, astronauts... while other careers just don't have the same cachet.

I love the enormous smiles that textile worker, carpenter, and secretary are wearing. You almost believe they're enjoying their work. (Actually, the carpenter does look like she's having fun! And props to Children's Press for going against gender stereotypes and showing us a female carpenter.)

Dated books in our collection? I have no idea what you're talking about.

My next thought was obviously what about East German food and drink? Gruel, my friend S. said with certainty. Definitely gruel.

Speaking of dated, I bet you can't guess what decade this little beauty—which will teach you how to make a peasant dress, draw-string blouse, and dashiki—was published in.

Oh, wait, you guessed the sweet seventies? You're absolutely right. My bad.

Sometimes the datedness is cringe-worthy.

Food the Indians "gave" us. Indian corn and other "gifts." Because the Indians were so happy to see "us" (for of course we readers are ethnically European), they showered "us" with gifts and then disappeared off the face of the earth, don't you know.

This one, on the other hand, makes me laugh. The headband! The puffy vest! The creased-brim trucker hat! The roller skates! Yes, dear readers, the year is 1983.

This is actually a gem of a book. Aimed at latch key kids, it's a treasure trove of information for anyone living independently. Time management? Blackouts and lockouts? Plumbing emergencies? First aid? Cooking? Laundry? Unfortunately, it is still quite dated (I don’t know about you, but my local grocery store doesn’t let me charge things to my family’s monthly account) and will probably have to go.

Sometimes you’ve got a book chock-full of fun and fascinating information, but there’s something about the title that’s just…how should I put this…a little off-putting.

Sure, I think it’s fun and exciting and eco-friendly to grow yams and alfalfa at home using compost scraps. But something about that word “garbage” conjures up images of dirty diapers, moldy pork chops, and rotten milk, and I lose my appetite. (That said, I’m keeping a copy of this book, in the hopes that someone will be able to see beyond the title.)

Then there are times when, no matter how enticing you try to make the subject matter sound, the reader just ain't gonna buy it.

Yes, I know the earliest known writing was done on clay tablets. That’s wonderful. Humans have lived in clay houses, eaten from clay vessels, made beautiful art from clay—wonderful, wonderful, wonderful. But I’m sorry, this book looks dry as dust.

In closing, I want to say one word to you. Just one word. Listening?