the jungle

i don't know if i've mentioned this before, but i hate myspace. i'm often tempted to delete my profile because it's just horrific (i'm far too elitist for it, if you must know). i haven't deleted it mostly because if i did that, i would have one less thing to do online when i'm bored, and these blogs would get even more irritating for all (three) of you.

because i've decided to stop spending hideous amounts of money all the time, and because i've discovered i may need more sylvia browne in my life, i stopped by the local library yesterday, on my way to borders, where i was going to torture myself with the prospect of purchasing books without actually allowing myself to buy any. i found my sylvia browne book next to some dream interpretation books and "the idiot's guide to wicca," and am now the (temporary) proud owner of collection of stories about "the other side." yipee.

i just finished "the jungle," by upton sinclair, something i've been meaning to read for years. it was really fascinating, as slow a read as it was, and i enjoyed it (i secretly love incredibly verbose books - my favorite book just might be "ramona," written in 1884 in the most ploddingly slow prose imaginable). what i didn't love was that sinclair, a socialist, dedicated the last thirty to forty pages of the novel to socialist rants, writing those pages as speeches by various local socialist leaders. i don't particularly have a problem with the idea of socialism (send me to guantanamo!), but i do have a problem with heavy-handed soap-boxing. i understand the purpose of the book was to expose the exploitation of workers by capitalist meat packers, but i also am sure i would have understood that point without having it thrown at me.