I had the rather hair-brained scheme that I would read all of the books in the library; well, not all of them, but all of the books in the History section -- a few thousand books at most. With a little quick (and optimistic) math, I figured I could read a book a day; and after four years of college, that would equal a lot of books. Okay. Maybe not the entire History section, then, but why not dive into the books in the shelf in front of me? Surely I could read all of those. The Stacks. What a wonderful place. Musty. Dusty. An elegant tomb full of books and artificial lighting. I could stay deep in its depths. It's where books come to die, but it's where I would go to live. I was going to record the Word on each individual brain cell. Admittedly, I'm not normal, but I've always known that. Understand: college, after all, isn't a time for learning. It's a time for drinking mass quantities of booze, and chalking up carnal conquests. At least that's what t...