Jesus Eye on the Genealogist Guy, Barb’s Stuff 3

Robin Rose Yuran writes “JESUS EYE ON THE GENEALOGIST GUY
(Another Stuff Barb Don’t Want Moment)
By Robin Rose Yuran

They like to travel in packs; I can usually spot them coming up the path to the library; they are the genealogists, the ones with the Jesus-freak eye-glazed look accompanied by way too much smiling. It’s a “Stand away from the car�/�Houston we’ve got a problem moment.�

Robin Rose Yuran writes “JESUS EYE ON THE GENEALOGIST GUY
(Another Stuff Barb Don’t Want Moment)
By Robin Rose Yuran

They like to travel in packs; I can usually spot them coming up the path to the library; they are the genealogists, the ones with the Jesus-freak eye-glazed look accompanied by way too much smiling. It’s a “Stand away from the car�/�Houston we’ve got a problem moment.�
The wily genealogist,
The quintessential bore,
The sleeping pill with iron will
Steps through the library door.

Uh oh. Here’s one now, files and papers underarm. Sometimes the lone alpha genie male of the species is the most dangerous of all; he traps gentle librarians with his “glittering eye� and treats them like Coleridge’s Wedding Guest, regaling them with albatrossian tales of dead ancestors that will not stay buried.

“The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone :
He cannot choose but hear ;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.�
(Samuel Coleridge, Rime of the Ancient Mariner)


  The wary Marion has come to expect this; she has recurring “I Dream of Genieâ€? nightmares and fantasizes about trapping little Genie in a bottle and throwing him out to sea. Or gift wrapping him in the STUFF BARB DON’T WANT box.

Poor Marion, librarian,
Of spectacle and bun,
Turns a whiter shade of pale
And wishes for a gun.

Trapped behind the circ desk,
With nowhere quick to run,
She face her worstest nemesis,
The Antonym of Fun.

Knowing that surely one more dead-ancestor story will be the one that accompanies her to an early grave, brave Marion girds her loins (I have always wanted to say that) and prepares to stare down the blazing Jesus eye of the genealogist guy.

The query of relativity,
The genealogist’s skill,
Makes clocks slow down and Marion frown,
‘Cuz boredom, yes, can kill.

The fevered genealogist,
Ancestral hound from hell,
Eyes ablaze with bygone days,
Prepares his tale to tell.

Drastic times call for drastic measures.

Efficient little Marion,
So wary of his glee,
Takes her axe and matter of facts,
Cuts down his family tree.

THE END”