This is a ransom letter. Despite your Orwellian security presence and kiosk staff of Sherlock Holmes-es, I have pulled off a heist more daring than any Thomas Crown or Danny Ocean. Like a raven in the night, I slyly penetrated your sheltered stacks and in my talons removed Bill O'Reilly's "No Spin Zone", Call No: E902 .O74 2001. How, you ask, did I pull off such a cunning feat of deft and daring? A theft so improbable that watchers from the Tate to the Louvre will surely sleep unsoundly? I PUT THE THING IN THE BOTTOM OF MY GODDAMN BACKPACK.
That's right Fort Knox -- if you're not going to look deeper in my bag than the zipper, why the hell do I need to waste an entire 20 seconds of my day fumbling around the checkout line when I need Magic Carpet like the kid working the Rosengarten night shift needs another spoonful of Ritalin? Do you honestly expect to find the Dewey Decimal 300s concealed in Penn Girl's Louis Vuitton bag, or are we all just kidding ourselves here? It's hard enough to get in to the fucking library - every time I forget my Penn Card it's like a Tuesday night at Smokes' - can I please just skip the make-believe shakedown on the way out?
Tell you what Van Pelt. You stop playing peek-a-boo with my laptop, I return your missing volume.
Or Rare Books gets it next.
xoxo,
Library Face
