Book store sections people feel we ought to have :

1. The Anti-Bush Section. "I'm looking for 'Bush Whacked.' You know--anti Bush books? Where are they?"
Let's head over to the entire poli-sci area, shall we?

2. "There's this book, and I don't remember the author or title or what it was about, but it was this greenish color and it was like, this big?" Ah! Fortunately, our Greenish This-Big Book Section was just restocked.

3. The Angel Section. "I want a book for a 12 year old with facts about angels. Where's the Angel Section?" When I questioned more closely, she got testy. "The books of angel facts. Information on them. You know--non fiction!" Not that I don't believe in angels, but facts? Like what they eat? Plumage colors? Mating behavior? Would the bird section do? I led her to inspiration/religion, but clearly she was not interested in Cherabim, Seraphim, their eternal chant of "Blessed is the Lord God of Hosts," and their roles in Revelations. After she haruphed a bit and mentioned Sylvia Brown, I promptly repositioned her in metaphysics.

4. Perhaps this section is right next to the type of Angel Section mentioned previously. I was cornered by an uncomfortably wide- eyed and intense woman recently asking for the section on "Indigos." Umm. I wasn't clear on what an Indigo was, and therefore wasn't much help--even after she declared that she HAD ONE. When I failed to register the appropriate look of awe and jealousy, she caught on, and explained that basically it is a child who is a reincarnated angel: Blessed little beings who see people's auras and predict the future and have visions and are a rainbow of peace to the world. "And then they grow up into total bastards, right?" Actually, I held my tongue. Yeah, I believe kids are special, but what about her other kid, who's not an "Indigo" and can't get away with murder by exuding peace, holding up two fingers in a benediction and saying, "Mother, the time will come when you will see my grand purpose for ordering an X-box online with your credit card." What about him? How fucked up will he be? He looked worked over already, just standing there in all his awkward gawky puberty, glaring at the ground and ocasionally rolling his eyes when his mother spoke. Darn The Indigo section.