Hey you guuuuuuuuys!

Hey, all you gaming peoples- the annual Child's Play Donation Drive is open. For those of you for whom this is a new concept, Child's Play is a charity organized by Mike and Jerry of Penny Arcade fame, designed to supply childrens' hospitals with age-appropriate video games and consoles, to make the kids' stay pass faster and with less worry. And remember- pediatrics includes those up to age eighteen, who will presumably be less interested in coloring books and Nick Jr. cartoons, but who will be cooped up in the hospital anyway, with IV drips and tubes and wires and the gods-know-what. Having those games and systems available, especially the portable ones, also benefits the siblings of those children, by giving them something to do while they wait for hours on test results, operations, etc. Every year since its inception, Child's Play has raised over a million dollars to supply childrens' wards with games. Please take a look at the links, and, if you're a gamer, drop them a donation or buy something from your local hospital's Wish List directly via their Amazon link.

Note to the Bravo Team - Next year, should we do a live broadcast gaming marathon to raise money? I have a feeling we'd be a hoot for people to watch out on webcam :)

"There is a principle which is a bar against all information, which is proof against all arguments and which can not fail to keep a man in everlasting ignorance - that principle is contempt prior to investigation."
- Herbert Spencer

So I've been working on various projects for Mechanical Turk, which is a service provided by Amazon that matches people with time on their hands to people who need a task done by a person that computers are as yet unable to. Things like deciding which images from a given set are of a specific food type, doing questionnaires for psych studies, gleaning information from articles, deciding the emotional slant of Twitter posts, and the like. The pay varies wildly, and nobody's going to be able to quit their job to do this, but sometimes good jobs come up and I am currently making beer money with my ability to write 200+ words about any given subject. It's pretty awesome. Broadband might make it more awesome, but dialup doesn't affect the writing tasks, so I'm certainly not going to complain.

I'm working on my Etsy site, too, by which I mean I'm working on more things for it, the fact that I haven't sold anything yet notwithstanding. but I have recently met some other local makers of things, and we're all comparing notes. And of course, work continues on the novel, slowly, but steadily. So I'm fairly pleased with my progress at the moment.

Finished off another chapter, now into the revisions...Whee!

So I was babysitting my niece today, which is always a hoot. As usual she ran through a few activities, but spent the most time playing with our collection of Playmobil stuff. She's old enough now that she makes up her own little intricate stories to go with the action, and she says everything in a mostly discernible whisper. Today, I heard a couple of songs along with the storyline. The first I have tentatively titled "The Butter Goat Song:"

"I am a butter goat
We all drink butter
We are goats and we drink butter
We all drink butter"

The second was even more amusing. I couldn't make out exactly what was going on in her little play world, but the song went something like:

"Go up the stairs, get poked in the eye
Go down the stairs, get poked in the eye
Go up and down the stairs, get poked in the eye
Get poked in the eye"

This was all delivered in a bright, chirpy little song. Either she's uncertain as to what getting poked in the eye actually means, or poking people in the eyes is way more fun than I thought #grins#

Happy MLK Day!

"Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.

And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today!

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of "interposition" and "nullification" -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today!

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together."

This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with.

With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

And this will be the day -- this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning:

My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing.

Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride,

From every mountainside, let freedom ring!

And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.

And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.

Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.

Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.

Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.

But not only that:

Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi.

From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:

Free at last! Free at last!

Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

- Dr. Martin Luther King, "I Have A Dream, " August 28th, 1963

"A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects."

- Robert Heinlein, gods rest his saintly soul

Why isn't this playing non-stop on the radio?

"Bring joy to the world; it's the thing to do
But the world does not revolve around you
Don't be a jerk
It's Christmas

There's a sign above the line that says "Express"
That means ten items or less
Don't be a jerk (don't be a jerk)
It's Christmas

Be nice to babies and animals, old folks too
'Cause that's how you'd like them to treat you
Use turn signals, don't screen my calls
Don't you wreck the house when you deck the halls

Stick your gum where it won't wind up on my shoe
Squeeze toothpaste from the bottom of the tube.
Don't be a jerk (don't be a jerk)
It's Christmas

It's Christmas!

When others are talking never interrupt
Don't put people down or leave the toilet seat up
It's the time for family and holly and turkey
'Tis the season to be jolly not jerky (jolly not jerky)

Don't dig in the cereal box for goodness sakes
Take the prize and leave nothing but flakes
Don't be a jerk (don't be a jerk)
It's Christmas

Santa brought nearly every gift on your list
Why whine about the one that his missed?
Don't be a jerk (don't be a jerk)
It's Christmas
It's Christmas!
Don't be a jerk (don't be a jerk)
It's Christmas
Don't be a jerk (don't be a jerk)
It's Christmas...."

Spongebob Squarepants, "Don't Be A Jerk (It's Christmas)"

"The louder he talked of his honor, the faster we counted our spoons."
-Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803 - 1882)

"Through long December nights we talk in words of rain or snow
While you, through chattering teeth, reply and curse us as you go
Why not spare a thought this day for those who have no flame
To warm their bones at Christmas time
Say Jack Frost and the hooded crow

Now as the last broad oak leaf falls, we beg, consider this
There's some who have no coin to save for turkey, wine or gifts
No children's laughter round the fire, no family left to know
So lend a warm and a helping hand
Say Jack Frost and the hooded crow

As holly pricks and ivy clings, your fate is none too clear
The Lord may find you wanting, let your good fortune disappear
All homely comforts blown away and all that's left to show
Is to share your joy at Christmas time with Jack Frost and the hooded crow "

- Jethro Tull, "Jack Frost and the Hooded Crow"

Reverend Stang, talking about the effects of withdrawl, which extrapolate nicely also to clinical depression, stress-related clinical depression, and other such unpleasant beasts. It was fascinating and useful, so I've posted some pertinent bits here. Original rant in its entirety is here: for your perusal; it's got specific Sub-Geniusy things, and some extras about what he was up to that week of 1997.

.....

PRAISE "BOB" I'M DEPRESSED

However, yesterday somebody said to me, in the middle of my screaming, "To tell the truth, man, you actually sound like you're crazy right now. Like you've lost your mind."

A little while later, as I was replaying every word in that conversation from memory, searching for backmasked between-the-lines unspoken clues as to how badly they were secretly shafting me, which sort of thing I had been discovering EVERYWHERE lately, that one phrase bubbled up. "You sound like you're crazy."

AND IT WAS THE FIRST THING I'D HEARD OR CONSIDERED IN DAYS THAT ACTUALLY MADE SENSE. It seemed it just might explain... a LOT.

Suddenly realizing that you have been depressed, in the clinical sense, the classic sense, not just the usual SubGenius hate-the-Pinks alarm-clock and drive-to-work, depression, but the real thing -- suddenly realizing that you're just plain NUTS can be a JOYOUS MOMENT INDEED. It means that you ARE crazy, and They're NOT out to get you! A refreshing reversal of the usual (and often no less valid) SubGenius outlook.

That I might be insane seemed, well, SANE. I did, after all, stop smoking 3.5 weeks ago, which was like self-amputating an arm. We're talking one of the meanest, most vicious, most deeply entrenched death-wish cig habits you will ever HEAR of.



You cannot know what depression, in its clinical sense, IS, really, unless you've both HAD it, and gotten OVER it, or else dealt very closely with someone who has. The Catch 22 of depression, is that you literally CANNOT pull yourself out of it. By definition. That's what it IS. Smoking, hell, I got myself into it, I can get myself out, or not. Depression isn't like that. It's bad brain, bad chemistry. You sometimes need replacement chemicals to oil the stuck-shut hinges on the Mental Slack Shack door, and you need psychological support to get the door cracked open again at ALL.

I am a big believer in antidepressants combined with counselling. For some people. The counselling doesn't have to last forever necessarily but the pills might. The pills are fucking MIRACLE DRUGS, in my opinion. In the old days they frequently didn't work or even did damage, but more and more I'm seeing people who REALLY ARE FAR BETTER, but without losing any of their 'spunk' or "righteous SubGenius Hate" or creativity or anything; indeed, all that improves. They regained their ability to HAVE FUN again.

I am not saying that Conspiracy Mental Health Programs are suddenly DOBBS APPROVED now. I'm saying if some pill can fix you, TAKE THE DAMN PILL! If somebody trained to circumvent your self-deluding bullshit can actually DO that, then LET THE INSURANCE COMPANY PAY 'EM TO DO IT!

If you need 5 bags of Habafropzipulops a week to keep from becoming a serial killer, BUY THE FROP AND LIVE OFF DOGFOOD!

When I started to suspect that I might be crazy, crazier than everybody else I was dealing with anyway, I started a list. Of SYMPTOMS. Just a little ways in, I could see it. It was just TOO OBVIOUS to deny. I wasn't JUST having a bit of a nicotine fit. I was also looking at a textbook description of depression.

THINGS TO EXPECT WHEN YOU QUIT SMOKING

1st Week

LOSING THINGS: common objects like keys, wallets, appointment books, jackets, Fropcans, lists of passwords. Imagine picking up a tape deck, getting distracted, putting it down, spending 10 minutes LOOKING FOR A LARGE TAPE DECK in a SMALL ROOM.

GETTING LOST WHILE DRIVING IN VERY FAMILIAR PLACES because nothing looks familiar. I missed the SAME EXIT twice running one day. And did it again two days later.

FORGETTING WHAT YOU JUST GOT UP TO DO. All SubGenii are absent minded to some extent, going to another room to fetch something and then forgetting what it was. Professional froppers even more so, but we overcompensate for short term memory loss by keeping careful notes and schedules. The Secondary Memory notes are of NO HELP when you forget what you were doing EVERY THREE FOOTSTEPS.

SEVERELY SCREWING UP THINGS NORMALLY DONE ON AUTOPILOT.
I dub Hours of Slack. I flip tapes when I cross the room. Have done that for 10 years. Yesterday I recorded side one on one tape, side two on another tape, and kept doing that for 3 sets before I realized it.

Inability to distinguish right from left without long and careful study.

2nd Week

Subtle insanity creeps in. The act of thinking, "That was EASY!" triggers it.

Repeating yourself in conversation -- or, THINKING you'd be repeating yourself, and thus never actually saying anything to begin with.

Inability to hear anything said to you the first TWO times.

Ability to read 30 pages in a novel without any comprehension whatsoever. Reading the same paragraph 6 or 7 times.

Even though you can't remember what you did 5 minutes ago, you can vividly recall every broken or forgotten promise ever made to you since childhood, every small slight or insult, especially by close friends. Perfect recollection of everything ever borrowed but not returned; inability to see best friends as much better than common thieves. Interminable mulling and moping.

Vividly imagining painful and unfair arguments, down to every nuance and detail. Perfect, photographic recollection of completely imaginary fights.

A tendency to laugh off cigarets, yet become hideously bitter about everything else... for 5 minutes to an hour at a time. Then, a favorite tune plays on the radio and suddenly everything is fine for awhile, until the next frothing suicidal rage.

Calling people by other people's names. Transposing important phone numbers and addresses.

Physical clumsiness. Greatly increased sex drive. Greatly reduced sex drive. Completely confused, right off the road and crashed into a tree sex drive.

3rd Week

Mistaking vividly imagined arguments and painful scenes for actual events that really happened. And holding grudges for them.

Looking for incredibly creative work done in the computer the night before, and then realizing that you only DREAMED that you did that amazing work. (Nicotine patches cause heavy dreaming because you're jazzed all night long.)

Fretting and fuming for 5 hours a night, sleeping for 3.

Inability to remember anything good ever happening to anyone except those you most envy.

Inability to accept the existence of anything good even when it's being shoved in your face.

Suddenly conviction that you have been KIDDING YOURSELF during all previous times of happiness. Screaming to self, "All this time I've been a SAP!!! A CHUMP!! ONLY NOW can I finally see the BITTER TRUTH I was hiding from myself. How LUDICROUSLY, PATHETICALLY NAIVE I was. How EASILY HOODWINKED. Oh, I know now that they've all been LAUGHING at me behind my back this whole time and I was too much of a TRUSTING FOOL to SEE it." Etc. ad infinitum.

Any single statement that might be construed as less than HIGHLY FLATTERING, interpretted as a snide insult. Reading between the lines of the most innocuous pleasantries and personality quirks, and finding EVER MORE PROOF of a general unspoken conspiracy against you. Seeing everyone else as venomously jealous while displaying the most venomous jealousy.

Setting conversations up with such evil Moriarty-like twisted logic that no reply anyone makes could be taken as anything BUT total betrayal, or at best the most callous insensitivity.

Forcing arguments and ultimatums over inconsequential things, insisting that they have taken on undeniable symbolic significance. Screaming on the phone. Hanging up on people.

Extreme time distortion. Mulling and festering over how that person borrowed this thing you now desperately need, WEEKS ago, and despite your weeks of reminders, they TAUNT you with procrastination and excuses, and never give it back. You happen to notice that in reality it has only been four days, and you never DID ask for it back, but then you find some other reason to be pissed off.

Screaming the most vulgar, childish insults at your boss, quitting your job, telling your spouse it's ALL OVER FOREVER, writing inforgiveably nasty letters and THEN SENDING THEM, etc. etc. etc. ...

***

and somewhere in there, if you're REALLY LUCKY, somebody says "Seriously, you sound CRAZY," and something clicks, and it sinks in, and it's... well, it ain't exactly over, but at least you can CRY again, breath freely again and holler out:

PRAISE "BOB," IT WAS ONLY SEVERE DEPRESSION, DRUG WITHDRAWAL and BORDERLINE SCHIZOPHRENIA!!

And that IS a gigantic relief. If it happens on New Year's Eve, IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE.

'Cause there are pills and tricks that'll help cure all but the borderline schizophrenia, and if you're a SubGenius you probably want to keep that. And I dunno about you, but as much as Normals disgust me, SHIT... forgot what I was saying. OH! It was that, fuck... what was it... OH YEAH... as much as Normals disappoint me, I'd still rather think that it was me being an asshole than that LITERALLY EVERYBODY ELSE is one. Because I can DO something about ME.

So far, knowing I'm crazy seems (SEEMS!) to be keeping me "sane." I can probably keep the lid on... at least, until the THIRD MONTH!!!

I type all this mainly to get it out of my system and hopefully to pep-talk and WARN the next poor bastard of some hidden dangers I found. I figure if what, 10% of Americans smoke, 20% of SubGeniuses do or have. That means a fifth of you can sympathize and maybe even gain a useful tip or two. No, you aren't alone, and YES, you ARE CRAZY. The Conspiracy REALLY IS to blame, but only you can exercise the Slackify your Fate, THEY WON'T, and someday you'll quit just TALKING about it, and QUIT. And perhaps go TOTALLY FUCKING NUTS like I have.

There is nothing in Dobbs' Word that prohibits self pollution of any kind. Rather, Strength Through Disfigurement is preached -- that one might need to IMMUNIZE oneself against a toxic environment by GRABBING THE BULL BY THE HORNS, so to speak. I swear that I will never act like the "former smoker," that most vile of hypocrites. I shall strive to remain nonjudgemental about the drugs I no longer consume like a fiend.

But that's not the point. Also the point is not that I want you miserable wretches to call me up for "counselling," or to counsel me. The point is, by definition you can't know when you're depressed, so it sneaks up on you, and the Tobacco Demons can use Sudden Adult Clinical Depression Syndrome as a weapon... so watch out. THAT'S the point."

I was going to put the Skully Puppet in my Etsy store, but the Owlvark wanted it, so I gave it to him instead. I had intended there to be a series of them, so I suppose I better get on it. I'm not looking forward to three days of beading with fives tubes of superglue, but there you go. At least I have nail polish remover to deglue my fingers.

DEVOtional '09 Pics

The disguised members of Fartbarf project their catchy electronic hooks at us.



The Pittsburghian members of The Weird Paul Rock Band play a rocking set from Devo's Hardcore CD's while an entrancing Z-Grade flick plays behind them.



The Spudboys bring down the house- I swear they get better every year. I danced so much I'm still feeling it today.



Use your Freedom of Choice!

Hardcore DEVOtional 2009, vol. 1

Short form: it was awesome. I'll put up some pics later when I'm less tired and half-deaf.

"For this was the other thing that Elric knew; that to compromise with Tyranny is always to be destroyed by it. The sanest and most logical choice lay always in resistance. This knowledge gave Elric his strength- his profound anger at injustice and inequality- his belief, now that he had visited Tanelorn, that it was possible to live in harmony with mortals of all persuasions and remain vital and engaged with the world. These things he would neither sell nor offer for sale, and, in refusing to give himself up wholly to Chaos, it meant he bore his weight of crimes upon his own conscience and must live, night and day, with the knowledge of what and whom he had killed and ruined. This, he guessed, was a weight that Gaynor had been unable to bear. For his part, he would rather bear the weight of his own guilt than the weight Gaynor had chosen."

- "The Revenge of the Rose, " Michael Moorcock

I <3 Cedar Point. The weather was perfect and we opened it up and closed it down. It doesn't get any better than that.

Or does it? The Owlvark came through his coaster testing with flying colors, and is now ready to take on the big rides. The next trip is going to be more awesome, if that is at all possible.

Best. Anniversary. Ever!

Spent at the beach, baby! It was 93 degrees outside, and gods only know how much hotter in the city (and our apartment...) and since we had an amiable and adventurous houseguest (not that we have any other kinds- we're very particular :) we decided to make a day of it on the peninsula. We aimed for the ten am swim opening times, ate breakfast, packed up our suits and towels, sunscreen, bug spray, and a picnic lunch, and headed to Presque Isle, deciding to get as much beach time in as possible before the severe thunderstorms that were forecast arrived in the afternoon. I guess the thunderstorms arrived for someone, but it wasn't us; we stayed until nearly four in the afternoon, and the weather was perfect the entire time. It was hot and bright with a strong breeze, and some heavy weather somewhere out of sight was giving the lake big rolling waves, which made it all very much like the seaside, except the water was cool, not freezing, and you could stay in as long as you wanted, or at least, until you got tired from swimming over the waves.
The weather started to close in around four, so we regretfully packed up and headed back home. Two showers later and I'd almost gotten all the sand out of my hair. :)
We then all went out to dinner at Red Lobster, and had some extremely tasty salmon- we approve of their new wood grill in a big way- and I had a few snow crab legs, as we also approve of their "pick two off this list for a very reasonable price" thing. We had intended to hit the ice cream place on our way back, but we were all too stuffed, so we settled for heading back to the apartment and watching the entirety of the third season of the Mighty Boosh.

The next day, as our houseguest had to return to home and work, we decided to have a continuation of our anniversary, at least as far as dinner was concerned, and went for candles, wine, cards, etc. It was really nice. We'd picked up a bottle of the same champagne we'd taken with us on our honeymoon- something called "Bubbling Catawba, " from one of the many local wineries- and it was very nice indeed. I used a bit to make some mussels in cream sauce, the recipe for which follows. Like all my recipes, it doesn't have much in the way of measurements, so your milage may vary.

Mussels in Technically a Cream Sauce:

You will need: two pounds of mussels, cleaned and de-bearded, an onion, preferably sweet, some butter, some olive oil, some garlic, some ginger, preferably fresh, some wine, a little cayenne pepper, milk, and flour. Also some pasta.

Heat olive oil and butter in the bottom of a large pan. Cut up onion and garlic, brown this in the pan. Grate in ginger. Add some wine (enough to provide steam to cook the mussels, not enough to drown them) bring to boiling, then dump in mussels and cover pan. Steam mussels for six to eight minutes. While they're steaming, mix flour into a cup of cold milk- say one tablespoon for the cup of milk, and one for every cup of liquid in the pan you're using to steam. Mix a little cayenne into the milk as well, to taste. Ladle out mussels into another container, discarding any that didn't open or those with cracked and broken shells. Turn heat down a bit on the pan, and add in the milk, stirring/scraping/whisking as you do so. Everything should thicken into a sauce. Carefully drain the liquid from the bottom of the bowl of mussels into the pan, and stir that in, too. Serve the sauce over pasta- we like linguini, but hey, to each their own- and you have the choice of either putting the mussels in your pasta or just nomming them alongside. Have with some of the leftover wine. Crusty butter bread is nice, too.

"I'm a soldier, and that means
I'm both defendant and judge
I stand on both sides of the fire
Bending along the steep turns, overtaking death and life
I'm running to fight the shadow of the lies

No matter how many threads deceit weaves
The truth will show its face to the light

Save your tears for the day
When our pain is far behind
On your feet, come with me
We are soldiers, stand or die

Save your fears, take your place
Save them for the judgement day
Fast and free, follow me
Time to make the sacrifice
We rise or fall

I'm a soldier, born to stand
In this waking hell I am
Witnessing more than I can compute
Pray myself we don't forget
Lies, betrayed and the oppressed
Please give me the strength to be the truth

We face the fire together
If we don't, we'll lose all we have found

Save your tears for the day
When our pain is far behind
On your feet, come with me
We are soldiers, stand or die

Chase the dream to the edge of the abyss
This is the only way to save the world

Don't you cry,
Hide your tears
Because there will be a new day
Your fire will be heating
Thousands of hearts
Now, rise up
Hide your pain and fear far off
The right will prevail
Remember, everything is in your hands

Save your tears for the day
When our pain is far behind
On your feet, come with me
We are soldiers, stand or die..."

- Origa, "Rise"

Woo-hoo! Beach day!

Presque Isle continues its tradition of awesomeness. The beach was hardly even crowded, and there were several free picnic tables to have our lunch on. We played the least impressive game of frisbee ever, and had nearly 45 seconds of swimming before the lifeguards announced the end of swim time. Oops. We'll time it better next time.
We then headed to Waldameer and wandered around checking out the new rides, and cheering to see the older ones still in place (the Wacky Shack and Pirates' Cove are still going strong) We're going to get the gang together one of these days and do a dawn-till-dusk run on the park and the water park.

So, I've found Shelfari to be completely addictive, at least from an adding books perspective. Since I didn't have a lot to do this evening, I started in searching and adding books from my collection, and the next thing I know it's 10:30 and I feel compelled to write a blog post about it. I don't really do the whole review thing, but it's definitely neat to have a list of my books in one place. If I ever get them all on there, that is.

Interestingly, I'm over 350 books now on my Shelfari shelf, and I'm probably only 2/3rds of the way through the books in the middle room, and that's at best. It could be as low as half, depending on just how many paperbacks there really are stacked against the one wall- I can't really estimate by looking at it. Plus, there must be another hundred paperbacks in storage at the Farm, and another couple boxes at Mom and Dad's. There's probably another easy hundred and fifty on my Amazon wish list- jeez, we're going to need a lot of bookshelves when we get a house...