Hello, hungry people.
Apologies.
I’d meant to join you here earlier in the week with some brilliant commentary about what’s going on in the world, but after getting up early every morning and sifting through the headlines in search of inspiration, I kept saying to hell with it and went for long walks instead. Often followed by long naps. Which often flowed right into cocktail hour. Which too often lasted longer that it really should.
I get the feeling that many of you are in the same boat, especially if you are, oh, I dunno, white South African farmers waiting around to not get killed, or air traffic controllers who have walked off the job, or someone who was deported for running a red light, or yet another book in a school library waiting to get yanked.
Which brings us, finally, to today’s topic: Books.
***
Specifically, my books.
No, this is not meant to be a less-than-subtle nudge for you to buy my books. Although, if you are so moved, then knock yourself out.
Rather, it’s to draw your attention to LibGen, a pirated-books data base used by Mark Zuckerberg’s minions to feed information into Meta’s AI programs so they can do all our thinking for us, an option which, I’m ashamed to say, is becoming more attractive with each passing day.
So far LibGen has sucked up all the words in more than 7.5 million books and 81 million research papers. This has caused a giant ruckus among the authors of these books and papers, who, for whatever delusional reasons, feel they should be compensated since one of the Chatbot Thingies that digested all that info got sold for something like $10 billion dollars.
Rookies.
Don’t they understand that writers always get screwed?
***
A couple of months ago, The Atlantic published a story about LibGen and offered access to its data base so authors could find out if their books were part of the giant, gluttonous word-feast.
Immediately, legions of righteously indignant authors, upon finding their books in the craw of LibGen, began posting plaintive protests and signing online petitions calling for compensation and an immediate halt to this hijacking of intellectual property, all of which was the literary equivalent of pissing in the wind.
Many of them probably even took the advice of several writers groups and publishing associations that suggested, as a form of protest, that they: “Write a letter to Meta.”
I can only imagine how this played out at the Meta corporate office.
Meta minion: Uh, Mr. Zuckerberg?
Zuckerberg: Please, call me Zuck. I’m cool now. Can’t you see my hair has gotten longer and I’ve been working out and wearing tight t-shirts instead of baggy hoodies? I’m hanging with all the groovy oligarchs now.
Meta minion: We just received another one of those strange white envelopes with your name on it.
Zuckerberg (gingerly taking the envelope and examining it): What’s this colorful little sticker in the upper right hand corner?
Meta minion (typing furiously into phone): Says here it’s something called a stamp, which is usually self-sticking but, if not, can be affixed to the envelope after licking it with the human tongue.
Zuckerberg: Ewww, get it away from me.
***
I did not immediately type my name into the LibGen data base to see if it had eaten my books.
Sure, I was curious. But mostly I was terrified by this thought: What if it hadn’t eaten my books?
Do you know how humiliating that would have been? To be passed over by the Repository of All Human Knowledge because I wasn’t deemed tasty enough? Most writers feel insignificant enough as it is, but to learn that out of more than 7.5 million books considered yours had not made the best-eating list?
So I was delighted when, after holding off for a couple of months to gather courage, I typed in my name and LibGen popped out a list of 40 books, a portion of which you can see above. And some of the rest below:
Out of those seven books, four of them were actually written by me, and that’s including “A Deadly Silver Sea,” which takes place on a cruise ship and for whatever reason is listed twice.
Maybe the LibGen Gizmo really liked it.
I can’t begin to tell you how good that makes me feel.
***
The rest of the books you see were written by Other Bob Morris. And that gives me an opportunity to digress from the topic at hand, which my shortened attention span is already getting tired of, and spend a moment telling you about him.
I’ve known Other Bob for years. Back when magazines were read by human beings, we both wrote for some of the same publications, including the New York Times and Bon Appetit and Travel & Leisure. At tax time I would sometimes get his 1099 forms. Which was annoying, because Other Bob seemed to be making a whole lot more money than me.
***
Another thing: Other Bob is gay. I’m not.
Other Bob would oftentimes write about traveling around Europe or wherever with his partner, putting an emphasis on what it was like to be two gay men on the road. Good stories. Eminently readable. Well researched and insightful.
And whenever they appeared in the Times Travel section, I would get emails from old friends I hadn’t heard from in years, including lots of old girlfriends, who would usually begin with something like: “Saw your story in the Times. So, uh, what’s new with you lately?”
***
Several years ago, after the publication of “Bermuda Schwartz,” written by moi, Other Bob showed up for the book signing at Partners & Crime mystery book store in New York City. We got some laughs out of all the confusion and had our picture taken together to prove that we were different people.
But even then: I would go on book tour and on too many occasions someone would show up with one of Other Bob’s books, like “Assisted Loving,” and ask me to sign it. The first time this happened, I politely handed back the book and told the person it had been written by Other Bob.
This happened to Other Bob, too, with people asking him to sign my books. After a while we agreed that we would just smile and sign whatever goddam books someone handed us and be grateful that people were still buying and reading them.
***
Even now: If you Google “Bob Morris books” it will pop up with a photo of Other Bob, a bio of me (Original Bob) and a mishmash of our books.
We’ve given up trying to sort this out. So, just to be safe, whenever you see a book by Bob Morris, buy it.
***
Except maybe these other titles regurgitated by LibGen, which I’m sure are fascinating.
And if you’re still with me, you know what it’s time for — Today’s Poll! — in which we ask the question.
OK, that’s it for today.
Thanks for dropping by. I’m in a much better mood already after spending a little time with you. Who knows? You might see me back here tomorrow.
In the meantime …
And, as always, I encourage you to …
Because it helps spread Bob’s Diner around.
If only we could read in our sleep, eh?
Hurrah! Don't know what algorithm had you pop up on my feed in Substack, but how glad I am it did. Is that English? Thanks for the laughs and the political views you have, what enjoyable reading. Long walks, long naps, cocktail hour, love it. And good for the No Kings Protest. I've been to two protests at my capital in NV, and they won't be the last. Fully retired, on Social Security, and lots of time. Thanks for the info on LibGen, had not heard of that; although I know AI sources take written works, photos, art, etc., to feed into the maw of a future Skynet. Brave New World stuff, sigh.