Bookstore Bingo; Readjusting To Prick Perry’s Return


So. It’s Saturday morning and things are swirling in my head. BJ posted a video story over to Dumb Perignon about an elderly man in Florida who was beaten by an asshole cop for no reason. The cop had turned his dash-cam off, beat an old man senseless and his bosses’ only reprimand was for turning the camera off. Someone somehow retrieved the video from the hard drive. Click over there ===}}}} to BJ’s place and see why I’m pissed.

OK, wait. BJ actually calls his place “Un-Original Thoughts” now.

I’m also conflicted about Rick Perry’s aborted Presidential run, the case for which I made yesterday. Rick Perry is a sickness that threatened to be pandemic should his authorities stretch beyond the borders of Texas. Confined within my state’s borders he’s managed to kill or maim most state governmental civility, and I fear he returns to finish us off.

I look around myself everywhere I go now, searching the faces of the people I see. They don’t all look that stupid. Most, actually, appear to have moral intellect. So how, in the fuck, has Rick Perry been elected over and over again? What, in the fuck, has happened to people?

Then, there is my guerrilla marketing program to stimulate book sales. That would be the plan to stimulate sales of the book I wrote, called Full Rising Mooner, that you can investigate by clicking to one of the linkster tabbies over there ====}}}}. There’s linkster tabbies for the book’s video trailer—a masterful advertisement if I say so myself—and also one for the four-of-five stars Clarion book review.

I have encountered both a conundrum and a dilemma with marketing the book in local bookstores. I’ve found myself in a perplexing situation with a difficult selection of choices to make, and I must say that this dilemmonic conundrum has dichotomous aspects as well—it’s full of diametrically-opposed aspects that are about to bring me to my knees.

Here’s the deal. I told you the other day about how Barnes&Noble Bookstores don’t give store managers any authority over book choices and that if I want my book stocked at the one store here to Austin, I must endure a vetting exercise somewhat akin to that time I was suspected of being a homegrown, domestic terrorist. I think the only thing missing is the rectal probes, but I’m only half way through the forms.

I’m normally a local business supporter but I shop at that B&N because I always buy my daughter gift cards to the bookstore and she has no local bookstore where she lives that I can online purchase from, and none of our local Austin bookstores are also local in Vermont, and this particular B&N is convenient to me and has a sister store up there with convenience to my daughter.

Rather than purchase from one of the two local new book bookstores of which I am aware, I go to the B&N in the Arboretum. Somehow in my ADHD-addled illogic, that makes perfect sense. Somehow, that is one of those rare ideas of mine wherein I feel no remorse for having locked, loaded and fired.

But I got to thinking after I wrote about my visit to B&N the other day. “Why,” I thought to myself and maybe out loud, “don’t I focus my marketing efforts on local bookstores?”

“A very good question, Sir,” was my response, aloud for certain. The first of Austin’s independent, local bookstores is Book Women. The title says it all. If I was a woman or had written a book aimed at a woman audience, I’d be all over Book Women. Hell, I might be all over Book Women anyway, but I’ve never met them.

The second local retailer of new books is Book People. Located near downtown, Book People is across the street from Whole Foods Market’s flagship store and universal headquarters building located at Sixth and Lamar. It’s a popular store and supports local writers.

But that support has a price. In order to be displayed on their shelves at Book People, a writer must be vetted—not FBI-styled like at B&N, but vetted just the same—and then if approved, the writer must choose from among a market basket of payment plans. Priced from $25.00 to get on the shelves and up to as much as $225.00 for shelf space, Local Author Display time, mention in the online store and a book signing in-store with three other locals, a writer is required to spend money to be read.

Intrinsically, as a businessman I get that. I understand that Book People cannot afford the shelf space to stock the book of every crackpot who can string 125,000 words together. Their store is maybe half the size of the B&N, and it already has the more crowded feel of an old corner bookstore. They can’t afford to support my bad habits and require me to support myself.

You guys are smart so you know where all of this bookstore bullshit is going. It’s only 9:00 am and I’m headed to the walk-in friggie back in our kitchen to load a cooler with Carta Blanca beers, and I’m taking the circus I call my pets fishing.

My gay ostrich and pig are both as pasty looking as a beached whale from all their time in the closet, and Rush Limbaugh has put on enough weight during the holidays to look like a whale, un-beached. His lover, the ostrich I named Rick Perry, called him “Fatso” last night at supper when the two of them fought over the last of the fried quail on the table.

That started a terrible row with the two of them bickering and spitting nasty remarks around. Rush Limbaugh told Ricky that he is as stupid as his namesake and then Rick Perry countered with, “And you are as fat and mean-spirited as yours,” and then the crying and hissy-fitting ensued. Rick finally had a belly full and stormed off to hide his head in his sandbox, and Rush asked me to refill his trough with beer.

“Nope, not gonna happen,” I told him. “You get your lard ass in there and apologize to him. And I don’t want to ever hear you tell him he’s as stupid as our Governor again. Once more and you’ll be served as the BBQ pork you so love to be served. That’s the meanest thing you could say to anyone.”

Later last night I got the payback for exhibiting good parenting skills and responsibilities. The make-up sex happening in my closet kept me awake until all hours and when I finally got to sleep, I had nightmares.

I’m a mess. I need another vacation to Tennessee where my most important decision was which kind of prepared pork food would be the first of the flavor of my day, and my biggest concern was if I could outlast BJ in the cold contest that is a visit to Squatlo’s Ice House.

Or maybe I should go stick my head in Rick Perry’s sand box. Hiding from your issues doesn’t solve any problems, but it is nice to escape them for awhile. Manana, y’all.

Print Friendly

3 Responses to “Bookstore Bingo; Readjusting To Prick Perry’s Return”

  1. squatlo says:

    It really shouldn’t be all that complicated or expensive to find places willing to help market your book, but then, what’s cheap and easy these daze other than your governor and Newt Gingrich’s current wife?

    Maybe guzzling a few Carta Blancas is the key to enlightenment. Like John Hiatt says in his song, It’ll Come to Ya…

  2. Dang…that’s a lot of work just to get your book peddled! (Note to self: Cross ‘write a book’ off the bucket list)

    As for Prick…I’m sorry that he’s back to ruin the REST of your fucked up state, but at least now he’s off of the friggin’ tv so much. Now, I need one less barf bag for all of those tv appearances featuring republicans.

  3. admin says:

    Squat. Nothing in my life comes easy except for catching greif. Grief? Whyinthefuck don’t they put a spell-checker dealio on here? My worst problems are with that whole “I before E, except before C” thingie.

    Reck. My mother told me yesterday that it’s my own fault the Rick Perry bothers me so much. “If you were a good Christian man, son, you’d see the value of our fair Governor’s plans.”

    OK. And if I had a foot-long pecker my name would not be Mooner.

Leave a Reply