But then at page 109: My eyes bugged out, my throat went dry, and I fairly ranted to my neighbors here in the newsroom 'hood.

“(Sputter, gasp, sputter, cough),” I exclaimed. “B-b-blasphemy!”

The end of the bookend is near.

“Don't just fill your bookshelves with a bunch of books. Use them as an opportunity to make a great-looking focal point for your room,” it says in a “filler” kind of article that ran without a byline or source — so I can't call in or email a piece of my mind.

Hear then my bibliophilic YAWP (imagine Walt Whitman in a gimme cap or Resistol amid the leaves of grass atop Turnham Mountain north of Muldrow, or Eagle Mountain at Nicut, or Cowhead Mountain at Blackgum):

DO WHAT?

Wait here while I have an erudite redneck conniption, and then tump over.

Sorry, I know all is lost. It's just a matter of time until books are gone — but, futile or not, I will resist to the end.

The word “bookshelf” will linger, of course, in a madding tease, just like “dial tone” haunts us even though nobody dials phones anymore.

“Start off with an empty bookshelf so you've got a clean slate,” the article goes on, rubbing it in. “Depending on what kind of unit you have you might want to consider painting or wallpapering the back of it to add some interest.”