She wants her cup of stars.

Today I worked at a library branch where an inordinate number of staff members are older ladies of a let's say reserved nature.

I was in the back room checking in materials when Old Lady #1 asked me: "Do you read comic books?"

"Yeah," I said. "Some of them."

"Have you seen...oh, what's it called?" Judging by the look on her face, one of utter disgust and contempt, I could already tell what comic book she was talking about, but I didn't say anything. "The Lovely Girls? Lovely Girls?"

"Oh, you mean Lost Girls?"

Her face widened out in recognition. "Yes! Have you seen this?" Her voice a hiss, invitation to my outrage.

I grinned at her. "Actually, I own it!"

Her eyes got really big and she turned bright pink. "Oh! Oh. Oh, never mind then." I relished the moment. I could see in her face that she was embarrassed for her assumptions, but also that she was a little revolted. It would have been satisfying to leave the conversation right there, with her foot up in her mouth and her opinion of me completely tainted. But I like to think of myself as an ambassador of the obscene. I like to believe if I conduct myself with logic and humanity and kindness I can be a welcoming force to the vanillas out there who have already made up their mind. That my good behavior makes them realize they cannot force all pornophiles  and deviants and perverts and licentious sluts and rent boys and what have you into a simple little good versus evil box. So I kept the conversation going.

"I don't think the purchasers quite knew what they were getting into," I laughed. "It's not an erotic fairy tale or a story with some sex. It's porn, plain and simple." I said "porn" loud and clear. Both the Old Ladies present flinched when I said it, so I said it again louder. "Porn."

"It's not just porn," said Old Lady #2. "It's incest! Incest!"

"No," I said cheerfully. "It contains incest. The book itself is not incest. It's porn."

Old Lady #2 here left the room.

But Old Lady #1 stayed, and we had a quite civil little conversation on intellectual freedom. Because, you know, it is a little troubling that the hard core crotch-shot cum-spurting booty-licking PORN is nestled on the shelves right next to nice innocent Superman. I would rather not have small children encounter it by accident. This is not to say I think it should be pulled, by any means. Her point, which was stupid, was that the comic books were right next to the young adult books. My response of course is, "But why don't you move them?" Anyway, I don't know that I convinced her of anything or won any battles. I certainly didn't earn a Homeric  epithet ("Zenithblue, Breaker of Library Pages"), but it was a pretty satisfying little battle regardless. Ultimately, I think she'll think twice before arguing again with someone who will shamelessly and gleefully belt out the words "porn," "sex," and (OMG) "anal" without a second thought.    

I did not mention to her that my comics are in fact in the possession of one of their coworkers. The poor biddies would have felt beset by deviants.

Victoly!

Dude, Laura Palmer was on House tonight! Sheryl Lee, last seen wrapped in plastic, got to play one of those ubiquitous frowning concerned loved ones necessary to any hospital drama. It was kind of weird to hear her voice pitched like a mom, and not like a cutesie little David-Lynch dirty innocent. But I'm glad girlfriend's got work.

In other news, I came home to a very heavy Amazon box on my doorstep. Guess what it was?

That's right. The heaviest--literally and metaphorically--porn in existance. Woot.

Further reports to follow.

Everyone knows I like both pirates and porn.