So recently, we've decided that we will be selling this house next summer. This choice was kind of the inevitable result of lots of different factors, principally that this is a pretty big house for my dad to manage on his own (we're only kinda managing it between the two of us), and our financial situation is kinda lousy.

However, my dad's lived in this house for fifty years. He's amassed quite a history with it, just as anyone would if they'd have lived in a house for that long. Over this period of time, he's accumulated many very interesting things, bethem semi-obscure musical instruments, the components to a darkroom, an original cover to some (as of yet) unnamed pulp novel, chemicals from a car cleaning franchise, or x-billion various art supplies. That has been cool; my brother and I have always loved access to this wonderful crap, and it's been quite a boon to our creativity and curiousity.

But!

This trait has a definate negative side, namely that Dad doesn't always like to throw things away. To him, Swiss Miss tins are viable containers for two inch pencils that he bought in 1963. This eight megahertz computer from 1990 with Windows 3.1 is perfectly usable. Somebody will read Bay-of-Pigs-era National Geographics. Jello doesn't goddamn expire.

Additionally, no book is worth not owning.

Ideologically, I understand that. It's great to have lots and lots of books around, because I love books, and books are amazing things, but there's certainly a powerful argument for some discrimination here. Yes, it's cool to have this insane bookshelf in the living room with thousands upon thousands of books, but really; with a close eye, some of these...just, ...good god.

This, as you can see, is a two-hundred page book that details how to write your own horoscope.

I don't know why Dad would have bought this. It's crap. It's 100 pages of star charts, and another 100 pages of incoherent pseudo-scientific justfication. And it's all very very serious.

I don't know why we have these books.

Furthermore, I've always been kinda torn about them. On one side, they take up a lot of space and are crappy. On the other, some are so crappy that they're awesome. With this moving thing happening, they're just a big liability, of course, but part of me really hates to see some go.

This book, for example, can't be that bad. Yes, it's probably a fairly dumb mystery, and yes, it has an awul Christmascarolbutdeadly! title, and yeah, that's a skeleton santa, but that doesn't entirely mean it's without merit. It's probably pretty cool and full of suspense and intrigue that took a fair amount of time for Charlotte MacLeod to come up with.

The reindeer and jingle bells are awesome last-minute illustrative flourishes, I may add.

Edgar Cayce was an alleged psychic healer and clairvoyant in the early 20th century. He made predictions about maps to Atlantis being found under the Great Sphinx before the year 2000. So I kinda hate him a little; that doesn't mean this book is not without redeeming qualities. The nautilus shell, the Rhoda-logo-effect face, and the difficult-to-understand-perspective rainbow pyramid on the cloud, though: pretty tight.

Anyone who covers such a difficult topic as the origin and destiny of man should be cheered for their effort in that confusing and unclear field.

If you can fix scoliosis like that without killing yourself (or perhaps a nearby squirrel), more power to you and your (finally!) attractive back. Additionally, the inexplicable underwear? Damn hot.

Here's the inside:

This is why books are necessary to treat back pain. You learn things that you would never intuitively guess. Regularly stretching your back!, for example!: helps it.

SHIT!! IT'S AUTOGRAPHED!!

As a child, I was always just a little suspicious of things like these. The whole 5-a-day program always invaded our elementary school and threw tons of informative pamphlets and recipe books at us. This is one of them.

First, I applaude the attempt here. Fruits and vegetables are notoriously difficult to anthropomorphize. Boxes of cereal, milk cartons: these work out well because faces are easily translatable onto a large, flat surface. Broccoli? With that, you have to toy with many variables: does the face go on the stalk or fuzzy dealy; should I make part of the fuzzy dealy into arms or have separate, non-broccoli arms; should I make it as big and grandious as the anthropomorphized pineapple, &c. It's a challenge that I know far too well.

However, I'm a little frustrated by some of the thoughtlessness in here.

Amber Orange is either stipping or showing a very blatant act of compulsive self-destruction here. The tounge sticking out white she looks at her own juicy innards is kinda unsettling. Also, I can't ever peel an orange that well. She seems to know what she's doing, dammit.

Courtney Cauliflower is just confusing because she is so ugly, ha ha.

Look at the back!

Thank GOD Dole made this, and not some bullshit Chiquita or Geisha. As most of you know, I only trust companies that once owned Hawaii.

He is Greek and a pagan. She's disillusioned. The back cover goes into more detail, telling of his offers to give her "a villa in the sun, a car, and an ever increasing bank account." It's a difficult situation for her, as you can see. Name's Tina.

I don't know who would have read this in my family.

Finally, I'm a bit sad about this last one. Of these, it's the only one I'm certain we aren't getting rid of, because...well,

It's Encyclopedia Brown. He knew so much that people just started calling him that, you see, and he had the ability to divine the answer to any mystery, no case too small. Idaville's Super Sleuth in Sneakers. I grew up on him, though my brother was certainly a bigger follower than I ever was. Legend has it that when he was four, he got inspired and set up his own detective service, replete with a sign in his bedroom window that mimicked Encyclopedia's almost verbatim. He cried when nobody came and took the sign down on the first day.

This is on this page mostly because I think the books are pretty awesome. He solved cases about teeth that get stolen from cookie jars with a process that made full use of impossibly intricate webs of logic. He also always knew a lot more kids than I ever did. I didn't understand that part.

Look at that picture. It must be awfully satisfying to work on a case and point your finger like that after you solve it.

Hat looks a little small, though.

If anyone wants any of these, save the Encyclopedia Brown one, you should comment. We'll see what happens.