Old Books. Burn Them.

Back in the day, like so many puny dreamers, I loved old books. Seemed sinful to go out and buy new editions. Seemed, when a gal or fella' opens a tomb, there ought to be a nice fragrant cloud of mold spores and dust mites, the honest allergens that made great scholars sneeze and wheeze while they poured over a 'quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore.' But that was before everyone got herpes, back in the late 1980s. Now people want everything sanitary. Hell, I won't touch a book, anymore, without rubber gloves and a bucket of Chlorox.

Burn old books. Buy new ones. Pay. Pay a shitload to read. People need the dough.