What Are Jew Looking For?

, , , , , , | Right | August 24, 2019

(I work in the reference department at my local library and we get all kinds of strange people. This particular patron is something of a local legend; nearly every native of my city knows her name, and not for the right reasons. This is my second time working with her after reading her file in public record and REALLY getting to know her… unique perspective.)

Legend: “Hello, [My Name]. Could you help me out?”

Me: “Of course. What can I do for you?” 

Legend: “What?”

Me: *louder, this time* “I asked what I could do for you.”

Legend: “Can you get me the name of every owner of a major media source in the United States?”

Me: “I can certainly help you with that, ma’am. Give me one moment.”

(I begin to go through the web, finding and writing down corporations and CEOs until [Legend] looks reasonably satisfied. We don’t just stop at ABC and FOX; we go all the way down to local stations in major cities, and the rabbit holes those become. Regardless, it all seems innocent enough, until…)

Legend: “Okay, I need you to find me the names of every major politician and president of Israel.”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Legend: “I want to know the names of every major politician and president of Israel. The Jews in charge. You know. Those Jews own us all, and our media. I need to know their names.”

(I pull up a Wikipedia page listing all acting head executives of the Israeli state and print it for her. She smiles, pays the fee for the pages, and then walks away with my notes and her new list of Israeli officials. She sits in the office section of reference for a long time. An hour or so later, I walk over to that area to clean up and organize our newspapers. She’s drawn pentagrams all over both pages. All over them. I cannot find the words to describe all the Cherokee letters — I researched their origin after the fact — and pentagrams all over these papers. I quickly finish my work and walk back to my desk, settling back into work. Suddenly, she returns to me, smiling like a sweet old lady. She hands me the pages, looking genuinely proud of her work.)

Legend: “Can I fax these, sweetie?”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. Write down the information on a cover sheet and come back to me.”

(She did so, we faxed the forms, she paid, and she left. I legitimately believe she was attempting to hex somebody. I never had the desire to research the fax number. I tried not to think too much about it afterward. Kind of funny in retrospect, though.)

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