The Bathtub: Mayor's Weekly Address/E-Bathing: Buks R Laym

Note: If you read this post before 8 pm, you read an unfinished draft version. Sorry -- I forgot I had to finish my post. Whoops!

I don't read much, or, at all really. This is unfortunate for many reasons, chief among them that I am supposed to be writing about books this week. Don't you remember how poorly things went the last time we focused all our energy on the printed word? Or have you already forgotten the Knut Hamsun debacle of April '07? I myself have been so turned off of literature that I haven't picked up a book since that fateful week. I guess it's good that this blog is closing down soon, since apparently we don't know how to learn from mistakes. In any event, I kind of luck out here because Ebay sells a ridiculous number of books. I have chosen to focus solely on children's books published between 1900-1949. I'm hoping beyond hope that I find some sort of blog fodder here.

Success! Children's books from the first half of the 20th century had ridiculous names like, Adventures of the Do It Children, and could be pretty racist. And funny names and racism are always good for a laugh. I was all set to choose a book as the must-have of the week when I realized that not one of the sellers had provided a synopsis of any of the books. Then I had the horrible realization that these books weren't really intended to be read. No, they're supposed to be collected. And that's when I decided I had to revert back to my angry MWA-days.

Book collecting is weird. Think about it: a person decides they love books so much that they want to go in search of book after book after book. At the same time, they seek out only books that have a nice cover and are in good condition. So, they like books so much that they stop caring about what's inside the book and only care what the book looks like. If you want to own a book, it should be because you want to read said book. I think this is particularly true for old books because they are so smelly. I certainly wouldn't bring something into my home that smelled like the elderly and rotting newspapers unless it was really, really interesting.

Moreover, being a collector of any sort is bizarre. I mean, what the hell kind of hobby is that? Collecting should be considered a personality defect rather than a hobby. It causes one to covet and hoard knick knacks and trash, which is a favorite past time of the homeless and Golem. It drains you of money and space in your home, and 9 out of 10 collections are boring (e.g. stamps, coins, rocks, hummel figurines, mme alexander dolls, etc.). And even if a collection is really cool or interesting (like toys, comic books, etc.), you generally don't get any use out of the items you collect because they have to be carefully preserved so that they can stay on your shelf for perpetuity or until you die and your loved ones take your collection to Antiques Roadshow.

So, long story short: collections are lame, collections of books are particularly lame, and Golem is pretty gross looking.

The Mayor writes for the Bathtub every Tuesday morning. For more information click here. P.S. Last week's must have of the week was that Wang medicine for ladies.