Prologue: the Towering Slab, being not just a book depository, but a shelter from the elements, lures the occasional, unsuspecting homeless regular into its demonic newspaper jaw. Some admin types commence with hand-wringing various & overt, but yours truly figures that if they aren't fucking with anyone, who gives a flying dinosaur. I know pterodactyls aren't dinosaurs.
Act I: Last fortnight, if last fortnight ended last Friday, one of these regulars, affectionately dubbed Mr. Miyagi because of his uncanny resemblance to the late Pat Morita, shockingly got his physical threat on with one of our student comrades in the stacks, & as anyone familiar with library layouts knows, certain groups of corridors are naught but diffused-light, sparsely-populated spooky noochies.
Act II: Long to short, cops come over, dudes for muscle, chick to talk to the accosted who's one of the more petite chicks you'll encounter, & seated nearby, I was taken aback with gusto as to how ho-hum the long arm of authority took her considerable freaked-out-nesse, especially in light of the continued rise of muggings & fisticuffs on campus & not always in the sunless night. So, today, the jackass camped out in the student lounge, knowing full well that she'd have to stroll past to work, for the PTBs didn't ban his ass, you see. After shooting him the evil eye enough to where it's now begun to twitch, the clown vamoosed.
Act III: Being neither a mind reader nor a wizard, I've no clue as to why this played out the way it did, nor do I give a fuck about anyone's theories conjured up whilst on the can about how permitting the cultivation of fear in the workplace leads to freely ceding ever more control in hierarchical power relationships [ed. note: in other news, ice cream is delicious] & that it's even more insidious when found in low-rung places such as a college library because no one ever expects the Spanish Inquisition there, or how she ought to know ninjitsu or gonad kickball or how The State™ is a much greater threat than one homeless guy, blah fucking yawn blah.
Epilogue: As the Duchess said, this is why people become super-feminists.
As the Earl says, this is why folks hate the fuzz.
Though, in fairness, everyone should be hated equally.
Friday, January 20, 2012
Posted by Randal Graves at 9:52 AM