So your library is all about the social networks. Your staff twitters, they blog, they tumbr...ize... they got it all down. Well, now the great and mighty Google has opened the curtain on Google+ and the Page feature behind it is a nice guy looking to give you circles and connectivity. We at the Banned Library (if you add us to your circles, we will come... eww, sorry) have played around with it for a day or so and have come up with a couple of great ways to use it in the library. Most of them can be replicated with a variety of tools and other social networks, but Google+ puts them all in one nice, if not clinical looking, package.
The entire reason to use social networks with your library is to connect to your patrons. Google Plus does this great, allowing the same wall posts (called stream), photos, and other uploadables that you used on that blue network. Sharing content and reader advisory is easy as a cut and paste link. This leads to the best thing that Google+ can do better than the other networks: Circles.
Circles are an enhancement of the "share with your friends" feature. By dividing your fan base into groups, you can give each of them the news or information they are most interested in. We started by creating several circles, such as "Friends of the Library" and "Bookclub" that we knew would need specialty information every once in a while. If everyone needs to know, simply throw it out as "public."
Hangouts are another cool feature in Google+. Back to the bookclub option, if a member can not make it, they can still be around via voice chat. Since they got the same information as everyone else through circle updates, everyone is on the same page (pun intended).
Now this might seem like a Google fanboy rant, and that is because I kind of am. Google+ Pages do have their problems, though. Some, like only one admin account at a time, may be fixed in the future. Others, like having to wait for people to add you to their circles before you can interact with them, are understandable if not frustrating design features. The major complaint I have is I could not find integration with Google Books as of this writing, which would really help create content for readers advisory.
The most problematic element of Google+ Pages is that its new. Early adopters will be right on it but it may take some time for the network to take ground. Do not worry, though, simply create content just like you would for the Blue Network and people will come.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Role-Playing Disasters: The WME
I have been working on my NaNoWriMo novel using Dungeons & Dragons mechanics because I am not very creative and want my scenarios to be a little more haphazard. Well, with all this re-immersion in role-playing, along with The Spoony One's Counter Monkey Stories, I have been reliving many of my own role-playing tales.
If you have never played D&D or any role-playing game, think of it this way: it's a play where all the actors have not read the script, most of their actions are dependent on a roll of dice, and a narrator (GM, Game Master, or DM, Dungeon Master; the guy describing the action) is your asshole friend. Role-playing stories are often entertaining because with a good GM the roll of the dice can be awesome to behold ("You cut the dragon in half with your fist while cursing his mother!") or just plain goofy ("You miss the dragon completely and hit yourself in the balls."). Most of the time the game is rather mundane ("You hit the dragon and it takes 5 damage"). A good GM makes it challenging while telling a story. A bad GM will either try to kill your characters or softball you in a cut and paste story. For the most part, my GM was a good guy that chose the wrong group to play with.
I really only played in three real campaigns: a D&D game that ended with Thunderdome and total party kill, a D20 Modern game that ended with a sniper and rocks falling in a major metropolitan area, and a LARP I guested in where I was an invisible fairy and Santa Claus in the same night. This story is part of the D20 Modern game and a guy that I will refer to as the "Worstest Medic Ever" or WME.
D20 Modern is essentially D&D in a modern setting where your characters come from all walks of life. Magic can be involved, but it is often under-powered and almost useless (if you want a modern/future RPG with magic, play Shadowrun). The players are gathered together in a crew to pull a heist, save a hostage, or any other modern scenario. Our crew included a lone gunfighter/gambler, a noble Marine sniper, an ex-Mob assassin, and the Worstest Medic Ever.
Now, I do not remember the whole story, but somehow we ran afoul The Mob. While out on a heist for the MacGuffin Thingie in the museum, we were ambushed. Through a series of really bad rolls, everyone was knocked out except the medic. The medic, instead of trying to revive our players like a fucking medic, leveled the shotgun he had no skill in using and attempted to take on the six badass dudes that had just cut down his partners. He lost.
Little background. The guy playing the medic did not understand how to play a medic. He wanted to run into every scenario guns blazing and healing himself like Rambo chewing on stuff that would make a billy goat puke. As much as we attempted to explain to him that he was a support character, he would not have it. In any other game of D&D, this would result in natural selection, the character would get his dumbass killed and learn from the experience. Normally. In this case, the WME had the luckiest damn rolls I had ever seen. He ran into rooms full of enemies and somehow walked out free and clear every damn time. If he got near death, he would roll to damn near defibrillate himself back to life. The GM wanted him out of the way, and the ambush was how he planned to do it.
The ambush was a setup by the GM. We were destined to lose. Why? The Mob needed a medic because the head of the family was dying. After they took us all down, they kidnapped the WME and took him to their stronghold. They would make him save The Boss, accidentally feed him some information we would need to know, then tie him to a chair in the basement to wait for the rescue party. Several scenes of fun roleplay for the WME to get the game back on track interspersed with us fighting to get into the stronghold. Once we rescued him, we would all kill The Boss, therefore taking down The Mob and walk off into the night as heroes. It was a good plan by the GM. Damn it if not for free will.
Here's what really happened: the crew woke up to find the WME missing. We noticed a homeless guy standing by that witnessed the entire thing, including hearing who took him. The ex-Mob assassin guy had knowledge of where The Boss lived and that it was lightly guarded due to his arrogance (or something). We went to gear up to kill bunches o' mo-fo's.
Meanwhile, the WME woke up being dragged into a very posh bedroom. Armed men surrounded him. On the bed was a very sick old man. He was told to fix The Boss or die. He fought one of the guards and got a gun, holding The Boss at gunpoint. The guards overwhelmed him and (because it was a good role-playing) the GM said The Boss was impressed and repeated the offer of fix him or die. The WME attempted to poison The Boss medically, but failed. Due to his repeated insolence, he was taken down to the basement and handcuffed to a chair. On the way to the basement, he learns that if The Boss had died, all them men would probably defect to the other mob in town due to non-payment or something. Effectively, all the WME had to do was wait to be rescued then tell the crew to kill The Boss and all this would be over.
This was the point where the crew was supposed to assault the stronghold where the men were fighting half-assed. Easy, to be sure, but we all just wanted to get into the story and finish the campaign. But the WME had other plans.
Turns out he took a bunch of skills in acrobatics and lock picking. Why a paramedic would need to pick locks or do acrobatic stunts is beyond me, but the GM had allowed the character to be built that way so he let the guy try. The WME failed to pick the lock of his handcuffs, but he did manage to stand up in such a way that allowed him to move around. The door to the basement had been left open, so he decided to make his own way out. Keep in mind this meant walking with his hands cuffed behind his back to a chair.
He gets out of the basement and stumbles into a guard. Somehow, he fights the guy to the floor and knocks his gun away. Then he utters a phrase that even left the GM stumped.
"I'm gonna try to use my medical knowledge to bite his throat out."
Yep. This guy decided his medic, handcuffed to a chair and duck walking around an enemy stronghold, had lost his damn mind and could use his medical know-how to rip a man's throat out with his teeth.
The GM, in an "are you shitting me" position, told him he could either try to attack like a madman or use his knowledge, but not both. If you are that out of your mind, you do not get to use your mind. So the medic decides to try to use the chair to knock the guy out.
He fails. Sorta.
What he manages to do is trap the guard underneath him while he sat on the chair. Now he is full blown trapped, if he moves the guy can get up and beat him down. At this point I think the GM just wanted to have a funny scene for us to come across. But WME is not done.
He figures that because now he is sitting down he can use his knowledge to cause as much pain to the guy as possible so the guard would pass out. He passes his check and begins repeatedly and savagely kicking the man in the groin.
The GM gives in. He tells WME that this is what he is doing for the rest of the encounter. The crew goes into action, using explosives to cause a diversion and the assassins knowledge of the base to guide us to the medic. We find him, still kicking the defenseless man in the groin. It turns out the man the WME has been torturing is the assassin's friend who he promised to help get out of The Mob. In a rage, the assassin kills WME with one shot to the head. All that struggling wasted.
We continue, the tortured friend telling us about the sick Boss. We go upstairs, cap the old man, set fire to the stronghold and go home. The campaign continued (far longer than it should have, ending in TPK) but WME was never, ever revived and the guy playing him soon quit the game.
Here's the lesson: Know your role when role-playing. If you play a medic, then heal people. If you want to kill guys, take a class that kills folk. You are part of a group, not a lone man. Also, the GM might be your friend, but if you fuck with his story your character will meet an untimely end.
Now, I do not remember the whole story, but somehow we ran afoul The Mob. While out on a heist for the MacGuffin Thingie in the museum, we were ambushed. Through a series of really bad rolls, everyone was knocked out except the medic. The medic, instead of trying to revive our players like a fucking medic, leveled the shotgun he had no skill in using and attempted to take on the six badass dudes that had just cut down his partners. He lost.
Little background. The guy playing the medic did not understand how to play a medic. He wanted to run into every scenario guns blazing and healing himself like Rambo chewing on stuff that would make a billy goat puke. As much as we attempted to explain to him that he was a support character, he would not have it. In any other game of D&D, this would result in natural selection, the character would get his dumbass killed and learn from the experience. Normally. In this case, the WME had the luckiest damn rolls I had ever seen. He ran into rooms full of enemies and somehow walked out free and clear every damn time. If he got near death, he would roll to damn near defibrillate himself back to life. The GM wanted him out of the way, and the ambush was how he planned to do it.
The ambush was a setup by the GM. We were destined to lose. Why? The Mob needed a medic because the head of the family was dying. After they took us all down, they kidnapped the WME and took him to their stronghold. They would make him save The Boss, accidentally feed him some information we would need to know, then tie him to a chair in the basement to wait for the rescue party. Several scenes of fun roleplay for the WME to get the game back on track interspersed with us fighting to get into the stronghold. Once we rescued him, we would all kill The Boss, therefore taking down The Mob and walk off into the night as heroes. It was a good plan by the GM. Damn it if not for free will.
Here's what really happened: the crew woke up to find the WME missing. We noticed a homeless guy standing by that witnessed the entire thing, including hearing who took him. The ex-Mob assassin guy had knowledge of where The Boss lived and that it was lightly guarded due to his arrogance (or something). We went to gear up to kill bunches o' mo-fo's.
Meanwhile, the WME woke up being dragged into a very posh bedroom. Armed men surrounded him. On the bed was a very sick old man. He was told to fix The Boss or die. He fought one of the guards and got a gun, holding The Boss at gunpoint. The guards overwhelmed him and (because it was a good role-playing) the GM said The Boss was impressed and repeated the offer of fix him or die. The WME attempted to poison The Boss medically, but failed. Due to his repeated insolence, he was taken down to the basement and handcuffed to a chair. On the way to the basement, he learns that if The Boss had died, all them men would probably defect to the other mob in town due to non-payment or something. Effectively, all the WME had to do was wait to be rescued then tell the crew to kill The Boss and all this would be over.
This was the point where the crew was supposed to assault the stronghold where the men were fighting half-assed. Easy, to be sure, but we all just wanted to get into the story and finish the campaign. But the WME had other plans.
Turns out he took a bunch of skills in acrobatics and lock picking. Why a paramedic would need to pick locks or do acrobatic stunts is beyond me, but the GM had allowed the character to be built that way so he let the guy try. The WME failed to pick the lock of his handcuffs, but he did manage to stand up in such a way that allowed him to move around. The door to the basement had been left open, so he decided to make his own way out. Keep in mind this meant walking with his hands cuffed behind his back to a chair.
He gets out of the basement and stumbles into a guard. Somehow, he fights the guy to the floor and knocks his gun away. Then he utters a phrase that even left the GM stumped.
"I'm gonna try to use my medical knowledge to bite his throat out."
Yep. This guy decided his medic, handcuffed to a chair and duck walking around an enemy stronghold, had lost his damn mind and could use his medical know-how to rip a man's throat out with his teeth.
The GM, in an "are you shitting me" position, told him he could either try to attack like a madman or use his knowledge, but not both. If you are that out of your mind, you do not get to use your mind. So the medic decides to try to use the chair to knock the guy out.
He fails. Sorta.
What he manages to do is trap the guard underneath him while he sat on the chair. Now he is full blown trapped, if he moves the guy can get up and beat him down. At this point I think the GM just wanted to have a funny scene for us to come across. But WME is not done.
He figures that because now he is sitting down he can use his knowledge to cause as much pain to the guy as possible so the guard would pass out. He passes his check and begins repeatedly and savagely kicking the man in the groin.
The GM gives in. He tells WME that this is what he is doing for the rest of the encounter. The crew goes into action, using explosives to cause a diversion and the assassins knowledge of the base to guide us to the medic. We find him, still kicking the defenseless man in the groin. It turns out the man the WME has been torturing is the assassin's friend who he promised to help get out of The Mob. In a rage, the assassin kills WME with one shot to the head. All that struggling wasted.
We continue, the tortured friend telling us about the sick Boss. We go upstairs, cap the old man, set fire to the stronghold and go home. The campaign continued (far longer than it should have, ending in TPK) but WME was never, ever revived and the guy playing him soon quit the game.
Here's the lesson: Know your role when role-playing. If you play a medic, then heal people. If you want to kill guys, take a class that kills folk. You are part of a group, not a lone man. Also, the GM might be your friend, but if you fuck with his story your character will meet an untimely end.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
NaNoWriMo: The Reason I Won't Be Updating Much
What's my novel about, you ask? Not sure yet, not really. It's titled All These Scars and will be about an adventuring veteran and a loser guy. Can't say more other than I have been reading up on D&D and Fried Green Tomatoes was on the cable the other night.
If you want to join me in this, go to www.nanowrimo.org and sign up. I am listed under username bannedlibrary. Time's a wasting.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
The Onion Starts Online Subscription Fee called "Donate or Fuck Off"
Joining the ranks of other online news agencies such as the New York Times and Wall Street Journal, satirical newspaper The Onion today announced they would begin a donation policy called "Donate or Fuck Off" for the use of their website after the reader has read nine and three quarters articles a month. The media hobbit has tested online subscriptions in other markets and has maintained a print subscription fee, but this is the first time they have attempted this particular method in the U. S. of 'Merica.
Onion, Inc. chief technology officer Michael Greer explains the new plan:
Onion, Inc. chief technology officer Michael Greer explains the new plan:
"We know our readers will read us. It's what they do. Hell, most of them expect to pay something anyway. So in a way, we are giving them what they want. And people keep throwing around buzz words like 'subscription' and 'newspaper.' That's not what we do here. We just offer internet content for free in an Internet fashion, with ads. All we are asking is a little kickback now and then or maybe we stop giving you content. That's all. We even got a nice JPEG that tells you to fuck off. It's not really funny."
Long time reader of The Onion, John 'Whiplash' Williams had this to say:
"Eh. If they start making me pay, I guess I'll try it out. Maybe I'll get a deal for the print and online. Bird's gotta shit somewhere, right?"The Onion was not contacted for comment.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Monsterfest 2011: Visit from a Viking Ghost
I have always told new hires that when shelving, one of the best lessons you can learn is “Let the book take you there.” Even though you may have shifted and re-shifted the collection yourself for 10 years, the collection can still surprise you about where it wants books to be placed. Each book has its own place, and you must trust that it will find it. You are only its vessel home.
So it surprised the shit out of me when one of the books leaped from my hands and went running down the aisles on its own. The shelving thing above is only supposed to make the new kids concentrate on accuracy and sound a little new-agey zen, not be true. But there I was, after years of shelving, watching my first book find its own way home.
The book, a copy of Shirley Jackson’s short stories, walked open, wobbling back and forth and pivoting on the spine. The tome skittered around the “I-Ka” section and disappeared from sight.
I looked around. No one but me was on the second floor. The reference desk sat empty. The usual coughs and foot shuffling were absent from the stacks.
I thought about calling down, hell, going downstairs if only to tell the staff that their director’s mind had finally snapped. They would buy that, especially after the recent budget cuts. I could take the day off.
But I had never seen a walking book before now, and who was I to tell the new folks to let the books lead them if I didn’t follow one myself.
When I turned the corner, I gasped. All the books on the last third of both sides of the stacks were gone. The shelves were bare, even of the dust that usually outlined the collection when you removed all the books from the shelves. The Shirley Jackson book sat in the middle of the aisle, closed.
A cold wind came from behind me. The Jackson book opened and the pages started to flutter, never settling on one page. The wind grew stronger, chilling me to the bone. The book’s pages fluttered faster and faster. The howl and flutter mixed louder and louder until it sounded like a projector feeding film in a gale. I closed my eyes, put my hands over my ears and bent down to huddle as ice began to form and a small snow flurry whirled around me.
Then everything stopped.
“Mr. Banned? Get up,” I felt a warm hand on my shoulder, “Evan, it's all right, get up.”
The voice was... impossible. She was dead. But when I opened my eyes and looked up, Brenda the Viking Librarian stood before me.
“Brenda?” I asked.
She nodded. Her face was just as I remembered it, but more. A homely woman in life, death had granted her color and vigor. Color radiated on her cheeks and almost lit the mane of blond hair. A great smile played on her face. That smile was hearth and home, warmth and mirth, but a little dangerous.
A striking bronze plate covered her broad and expansive chest. A wolf fir draped over her shoulders like a cardigan sweater. The leather skirt was pleated, stretching down to the tops of fir-lined, stylish heels. At her waist was a broad leather belt studded with runes, a small hammer hung.
She knelt down to me, “Mr. Evan Banned, I have been granted leave from The Fields to give you a message and a gift. Listen now. A great evil is coming threefold. One will arrive behind you, one from within, and one will save you. Take this to help you.”
She took the hammer off her belt and handed it to me. I looked at it. It was a stamp. A small, stone bookstamp with the letters “Banned” carved into it and leather wrapped around the handle.
“This is the Stamp of Mimir, the knowledge guardian,” she said, “It is used to banish forbidden and useless knowledge from this world. The Stamp must not be used lightly and only by the worthy. Hear me, Evan Banned, one will be behind, one within, and one will save. This is all I can tell you.”
Brenda stood. I stood.
“So, um, what’s it like?” I asked.
So it surprised the shit out of me when one of the books leaped from my hands and went running down the aisles on its own. The shelving thing above is only supposed to make the new kids concentrate on accuracy and sound a little new-agey zen, not be true. But there I was, after years of shelving, watching my first book find its own way home.
The book, a copy of Shirley Jackson’s short stories, walked open, wobbling back and forth and pivoting on the spine. The tome skittered around the “I-Ka” section and disappeared from sight.
I looked around. No one but me was on the second floor. The reference desk sat empty. The usual coughs and foot shuffling were absent from the stacks.
I thought about calling down, hell, going downstairs if only to tell the staff that their director’s mind had finally snapped. They would buy that, especially after the recent budget cuts. I could take the day off.
But I had never seen a walking book before now, and who was I to tell the new folks to let the books lead them if I didn’t follow one myself.
When I turned the corner, I gasped. All the books on the last third of both sides of the stacks were gone. The shelves were bare, even of the dust that usually outlined the collection when you removed all the books from the shelves. The Shirley Jackson book sat in the middle of the aisle, closed.
A cold wind came from behind me. The Jackson book opened and the pages started to flutter, never settling on one page. The wind grew stronger, chilling me to the bone. The book’s pages fluttered faster and faster. The howl and flutter mixed louder and louder until it sounded like a projector feeding film in a gale. I closed my eyes, put my hands over my ears and bent down to huddle as ice began to form and a small snow flurry whirled around me.
Then everything stopped.
“Mr. Banned? Get up,” I felt a warm hand on my shoulder, “Evan, it's all right, get up.”
The voice was... impossible. She was dead. But when I opened my eyes and looked up, Brenda the Viking Librarian stood before me.
“Brenda?” I asked.
She nodded. Her face was just as I remembered it, but more. A homely woman in life, death had granted her color and vigor. Color radiated on her cheeks and almost lit the mane of blond hair. A great smile played on her face. That smile was hearth and home, warmth and mirth, but a little dangerous.
A striking bronze plate covered her broad and expansive chest. A wolf fir draped over her shoulders like a cardigan sweater. The leather skirt was pleated, stretching down to the tops of fir-lined, stylish heels. At her waist was a broad leather belt studded with runes, a small hammer hung.
She knelt down to me, “Mr. Evan Banned, I have been granted leave from The Fields to give you a message and a gift. Listen now. A great evil is coming threefold. One will arrive behind you, one from within, and one will save you. Take this to help you.”
She took the hammer off her belt and handed it to me. I looked at it. It was a stamp. A small, stone bookstamp with the letters “Banned” carved into it and leather wrapped around the handle.
“This is the Stamp of Mimir, the knowledge guardian,” she said, “It is used to banish forbidden and useless knowledge from this world. The Stamp must not be used lightly and only by the worthy. Hear me, Evan Banned, one will be behind, one within, and one will save. This is all I can tell you.”
Brenda stood. I stood.
“So, um, what’s it like?” I asked.
“Death? Cold and warm. Free,” she laughed, “I remember you on your first day, all gangly, smelling of those cigarettes and with a fresh MLIS. When your mom asked us to give you a job, I was almost sick... But you did good, boy. I was lucky, I died doing what I loved, where I was happy. That counts for something on the other side. Remember that.”
A sound of clapping came from downstairs, and I turned to face it. The under-10 storytime had just ended. The children’s librarians voice rose over the crowd as everyone began shuffling around.
“That job’s cursed, broken. She’ll cause trouble, just you see.”
I turned to ask what she meant, but Brenda the Viking Librarian was gone. Everything was back in its place, books on the shelves with no hint of water from the snow. The Shirley Jackson book was in my hand. The small hammer was in the other.
Friday, October 21, 2011
5 Things to Make Sure of When Banning Someone from the Library (Plus a Form Letter)
Getting banned from a library is no easy task, as we have already seen. Cunning, skill and perseverance reward you with the knowledge that you cannot enter one of the only places in town that accepts everybody. But what goes on behind the scenes? What do your faithful librarians do when you have spilled your soda in the fifth computer this week while whacking off to male goat embryos?
Lend an ear, cause I am going to drop some knowledge on your crazy ass: They make sure they have you dead to rights with proof and then kick your ass to the curb, that's what they do.
Here's some steps for librarians to make sure your dumbass never comes near the hallowed stacks of knowledge ever again (and an example letter)
1 Make sure to get an accurate account of the actions that proceeded the decision to ban.
Librarians, incident reports are your friends. I know that after a mini-nuclear explosion that can be the problem patron you just want to rest and regroup, but do not. Fill out a report with the time, date, persons involved and everything that happened. These reports will keep an accurate record of not only what happened, but when. If one patron becomes a problem, the reports build up real fast and the decision to save public time and property is so much easier to make. Also remember to add any police or emergency services reports to yours, as they could become valuable information later.
2 Make sure the professional staff are in agreement with the decision to ban.
The professional staff, and the para-professional for that matter, should always be on the same page when it comes to problem patrons. Everyone should be able to identify the problem and agree that it is a problem. Talk over the issue and reason. People have bad days. Hell, in this economy people have bad years. That does not excuse bad behavior, but it does make the difference between an elderly man that has been laid off getting frustrated with online job applications and the weirdo licking the screen because he thinks that is how Scarlett Johansson likes it.
3 Make sure the governing body and legal council of the library knows about the ban
This goes along with the incident report section. Part CYA and part "what had happened was," including the board of directors (or like assembly) in the loop causes this to be official, a good thing when what you are effectively doing is saying the person is trespassing on public property. This allows the police to be called and gives legal reasoning for displacing someone from the building the next time his crazy ass shows up. Also, it allows you to refer the person to a lawyer to do lawyer stuff instead of you the librarian doing police/lawyer stuff.
4 Make sure the patron being banned knows why they are banned
This is where it gets dicey. A patron having a bad day calls the librarian on duty a "lying bitch that knows there are three more fucking copies of Veggie Tales in the back" and gets thrown out on his/her ass. If he/she comes in the next day and nothing happens, eh, these things happen. For some societies, getting thrown out of the library for the day is a test of manhood for teenagers. But when you really need to toss someone out for good, you have to let them know. The best way to do that is through a letter formally banning them from all library privileges and outlying the local trespassing laws. Make sure it has pretty letterhead on it and signatures and what not. If need be, have the letter notarized, delivered by police, and/or stapled to their forehead. All the easier is if the police were involved, as they have a file all ready for your letter. A note on the letter: Be short and direct. Discussing the issue will only invite argument or more problems. If the letter is being written, the decision has been made and nothing can change that.
5 Make sure to make copies
When you file your reports and letters, make copies of everything and keep them in a separate place, file or folder. This is especially true for anything official, such as an incident report or a letter of bannedhood. That way, if someone says, "Hey I didn't know (I, my brother, my child, my brother-child, etc.) was banned" you can show them that, yes, he was banned from the library for X and was told on DATE that we would fire him from a cannon if he ever showed his face again. If they claim they never got the letter, make them a copy and show them the door.
Example Letter of Bannedhood:
thanks to @bitchylibrarian cause she posed a question and gave me the idea
Lend an ear, cause I am going to drop some knowledge on your crazy ass: They make sure they have you dead to rights with proof and then kick your ass to the curb, that's what they do.
Here's some steps for librarians to make sure your dumbass never comes near the hallowed stacks of knowledge ever again (and an example letter)
1 Make sure to get an accurate account of the actions that proceeded the decision to ban.
Librarians, incident reports are your friends. I know that after a mini-nuclear explosion that can be the problem patron you just want to rest and regroup, but do not. Fill out a report with the time, date, persons involved and everything that happened. These reports will keep an accurate record of not only what happened, but when. If one patron becomes a problem, the reports build up real fast and the decision to save public time and property is so much easier to make. Also remember to add any police or emergency services reports to yours, as they could become valuable information later.
2 Make sure the professional staff are in agreement with the decision to ban.
The professional staff, and the para-professional for that matter, should always be on the same page when it comes to problem patrons. Everyone should be able to identify the problem and agree that it is a problem. Talk over the issue and reason. People have bad days. Hell, in this economy people have bad years. That does not excuse bad behavior, but it does make the difference between an elderly man that has been laid off getting frustrated with online job applications and the weirdo licking the screen because he thinks that is how Scarlett Johansson likes it.
3 Make sure the governing body and legal council of the library knows about the ban
This goes along with the incident report section. Part CYA and part "what had happened was," including the board of directors (or like assembly) in the loop causes this to be official, a good thing when what you are effectively doing is saying the person is trespassing on public property. This allows the police to be called and gives legal reasoning for displacing someone from the building the next time his crazy ass shows up. Also, it allows you to refer the person to a lawyer to do lawyer stuff instead of you the librarian doing police/lawyer stuff.
4 Make sure the patron being banned knows why they are banned
This is where it gets dicey. A patron having a bad day calls the librarian on duty a "lying bitch that knows there are three more fucking copies of Veggie Tales in the back" and gets thrown out on his/her ass. If he/she comes in the next day and nothing happens, eh, these things happen. For some societies, getting thrown out of the library for the day is a test of manhood for teenagers. But when you really need to toss someone out for good, you have to let them know. The best way to do that is through a letter formally banning them from all library privileges and outlying the local trespassing laws. Make sure it has pretty letterhead on it and signatures and what not. If need be, have the letter notarized, delivered by police, and/or stapled to their forehead. All the easier is if the police were involved, as they have a file all ready for your letter. A note on the letter: Be short and direct. Discussing the issue will only invite argument or more problems. If the letter is being written, the decision has been made and nothing can change that.
5 Make sure to make copies
When you file your reports and letters, make copies of everything and keep them in a separate place, file or folder. This is especially true for anything official, such as an incident report or a letter of bannedhood. That way, if someone says, "Hey I didn't know (I, my brother, my child, my brother-child, etc.) was banned" you can show them that, yes, he was banned from the library for X and was told on DATE that we would fire him from a cannon if he ever showed his face again. If they claim they never got the letter, make them a copy and show them the door.
Example Letter of Bannedhood:
Dear Abraham Lincoln,
This letter is to inform you that your library privileges have been revoked by decision of library staff and the Board of Directors due to failure to comply with library policy and rules. These privileges include access to all library materials, buildings and events.
Failure to comply will lead to legal action under the Galactic Trespassing Code of Stardate 65269.9. For further information, contact our Old Timey Space Lawyer, Seymour Cratersnatch & Spawn.
Librarian
Library Director
Head of Galactic Library Board
Important Guy #4
thanks to @bitchylibrarian cause she posed a question and gave me the idea
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
New Book Claims Some Punk Shot Van Gogh
The new book Van Gogh: The Life by Steven Naifeh and Gregory White Smith postulates that instead of a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the chest, Vinny VG may have been shot by some punk kid. The authors acknowledge that while Van Gogh may have been institutionalized off and on throughout his life and had a death wish, on the day he died he did not behave as if he was going to kill himself, taking his paints and easel into the field and then staggering over a mile back into town. He may have lied to protect the juvenile from prosecution. NBCNewYorkOoo, ooo, now there's a slasher movie idea that just needs to be made. Can somebody say I Know What Famous Painter You Killed Last Summer? How about Ear for an Ear? This winter, Vin Deisel is Vincent in Fast and Van Goghne.
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