Coffee Shop Giveaways; Bye-Bye Ricky, You GFA

 

So. I have just a few minutes to devote to writing today because I have a luncheon to attend. The US Compost Council is honoring one of the finest women on the face of the planet here in Austin. Barrie Cogburn, head landscape architect and high muck-a-much at the Texas Department of Transportation (TxDOT), is the honoree, and I wouldn’t miss this dealie for anything.

Barrie, along with Scott McCoy of the Texas Commission on Environmental Quality (TCEQ), fostered the use of compost to solve erosion and re-vegetation problems here in our state. Those solutions resulted in creating a new industry, providing safe and recycled options for longterm problems worldwide, and an Environmental Excellence Award for yours truly.

Barrie is a Texas Aggie, but her star shines so brightly in my eyes that her Aggieness causes no fading whatsoever. I’ll stop now before my effusiveness overcomes your abilities to stand it. Let me just say, “Cheers to you, Barrie Cogburn, well deserved.”

Which reminds me. Is today the day little Ricky Perry has the plug pulled on his ass by his big money backers?

The lunch dealie alone is not enough to overwhelm my day, it’s my book giveaway dealie—the coffee shop thingie. Yesterday I managed to give three books away to unsuspecting suckers—one at The Coffee Bean and the Tea Leaf (TCBTL) and then two at Pasha. The Coffee Bean was there to US 183 not far from the Planned Parenthood offices, and Pasha is on Burnett Road just north of 45th Street. As is usual with me, nothing is ever easy.

I started at TCBTL and I entered, ordered and asked the nice man who helped me if I could do the book give-away dealie. He was quite enthusiastically positive in his response, and he agreed. I looked around the shop, which was full of customers. I evaluated the tables to determine just who might be best approached. My first choice, two men reading computer manuals, waved me away as I approached them.

My second choice was a table of seven people, each of whom had a laptop computer and a thick book open in front of them. Now me, I see seven people with two instruments designed to read in front of them, and I see readers. I approached the table.

“Hi,” I said, giant shit-eating grin plastered to my face. “I’m a local writer, I have a new book just out, and I’d like to give one away.”

“Oh, how thoughtful,” the lone woman at the table said. “And may God bless you with a bounteous life.”

“RED ALERT!!! RED ALERT!!! RED ALERT!!!” went my internal danger alarm.

“Why thank you, little Missy,” I answered, “but before I fully accept your sweet countenance, might I ask what you’re reading?”

“Oh, that’s just the Bible and our Church study lesson plan is on the computer.” Little Missy pointed at each in turn. “Would you care to join us?”

“Well,” I didn’t quite stammer, “what might be the subject of today’s insights?”

Now please allow me to take a moment here. I was raised in the Baptist church and spent many hundreds of hours with someone six feet up my ass with a Bible, hammering the words and interpretations of the words at my brain. Quite a bit of it stuck in my head, like so much dog shit on the crenelated imitation rubber sole of a waffle-sole tennis shoe, and my ass still hurts with the memories of those childhood lessons. Much of it did not stick. If I was to agree to join these folks, I wanted to be certain I could contribute.

“Well, we’re looking into Paul, one of the first Disciples and the one most devoted to Jesus,” little Missy informed me. “Paul knew the most about Jesus so we revere his words most.”

Two, three and four… “Oh, you mean Saul of Tarsus—the guy who made his living persecuting Christians until he met the already dead Jesus, was struck blind and then converted to Christianity? You mean that guy?”

“Uh, well, er, I don’t know who you are talking about. I mean the Apostle Paul, one of the twelve Disciples.” This last part was spoken with a re-found conviction and faith—the words of a woman who knew what she was talking about.

“That’s who I thought you meant. Maybe I would like to join you because there are a few things about old Paulie that confuse the ever-loving shit out of me. Take, for instance, how, precisely, could he be one of the twelve originals and possess all of that first-hand knowledge about the Christ when he didn’t even believe in the man until after the crucifixion? Can you help me with that one?”

All I got was a blank, yet terrified stare. “And did you know that the methods used to persecute early Christians included stoning to death, taking of all possessions including wives and children, boiling in hot oil, and oh yes, don’t let me forget crucifixion. Those Roman cats were really big into crucifixions.” I might have made up the boiling oil part, but it rolled off my tongue like the truth.

I guessed she couldn’t because she turned, red-faced, to the young guy to her left. “Bobby, can you help me here?”

The young man looked up from his computer for the first time, and his entire face went sour. “Jennifer, might I introduce you to Mr. Mooner Johnson, one of the most hedonistic men in Austin, Texas?” Bobby crossed himself in classic Catholic style.

I looked closer at Bobby and it hit me. “Oh, you’re the guy that brings the water to the anti-abortion protesters, right?”

“Yes, Mr. Johnson, I am. And you are no more welcome here than you are at our protests. Now, please leave us in peace.”

“Glad to, Bobby. Little Missy here just wished me all of Gods bountiful blessings, so I’m good to go.”

I walked away from the table with no arrest and not pitched out the store—a major win. I looked for a third target. A woman sat alone with a small tablet computer of some type, and I approached. She tried to ignore me, but I lit my best smile with a few thousand more watts and sat down with her.

I went through my speech but she remained dubious. I don’t know if she had witnessed my dealings with little Missy or if she was simply wary of large men encroaching, uninvited, into her space.

Please allow me to stop, again. I couldn’t finish this earlier and left at the end of that last paragraph. I’m now back home to complete this writing, and Rick Perry is gone from the Presidential race. Hip-hip-hooray for America! The worst of them is gone, the most evil and vile asshole wanting to run our country into the ground is out of the race.

Good fucking riddance. I abhor the knowledge that Rick Perry is ruining my beloved Texas. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if he had a chance to ruin America.

So, I was conversing with the nice lady and she was stand-offish, and rightly so. But I kept working it and she finally relented to listen to the deal. I read “The Author’s Requests”[,] that’s the little blurb I’m taping inside each book I give away in this fashion. “OK, as long as I can be honest, I’ll do it,” she told me.

When I asked if she had a card so I could keep track of my marketing, she said, “You know, I’m a therapist and I should always have one handy.”

Guess what. She is a former master’s degree student of Dr. Sam I. Am-Johnson and is now in private practice. Small world, grown smaller. I’ll not disclose her name but you will sometime soon see her review of my book, Full Rising Mooner.

Ugh, I need a beer or three. I’m all discombobulated over this Prick Perry dealio. Here’s the sheet I am putting in each book. Please look it over and let me know if you think I can improve on it. Manana, y’all.

 

“The Author’s Requests

 

I have written my first self-published book and I would like to get some third party feedback from unsuspecting readers. The book is adult humorous fiction written by an Austin author that takes place in Austin.

 

These are my requests:

 

  1. That you read, or at least attempt to read the book.

  2. That when you finish your reading, you will contact me from the business card, below, and either comment on my website or send an email message with your thoughts about the book.

  3. That you tell the truth about your thoughts about the book—good or bad. If you think it sucks donkeys, say, “Your book sucks donkeys.” If, however, you think otherwise, say it.

  4. That if you have your own website or have favorite websites, that you spread the word, again good or bad, somewhere else.

  5. That you give the read book to another reader who will agree to do the same.

 

Please note: If you are offended by adult language and adult situations, or you think Texas Governor Rick Perry would make a great President of these United States, do not agree to read my book. I already know that tight-assed, close-minded people disapprove of me. Don’t waste your time with this.

 

Thank you for your consideration.”

What do you think?

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7 Responses to “Coffee Shop Giveaways; Bye-Bye Ricky, You GFA”

  1. squatlo says:

    Don, sometimes I read your posts and wonder what planet you originally came from, and other days I read it and wonder if there’s any way in hell you’d be willing to take home with you the next time you go back to visit. This is one of your bestest ever-est, in my humble opinion. Meeting up with a clueless Bible expert AND the anti-abortion league’s waterboy at the same coffee emporium that’s also being visited by one of your Psycho Therapist’s students? Either damn coincidental or brilliant prose! The visual of folks flagging you away as you approach reminds me of myself this afternoon as I got rid of a solicitor who wanted to inspect our roof for hail damage. We had seen the guy going door to door during an afternoon walk, and when I noticed him coming to our door after our return I just stepped out on the porch and waved the guy to keep on moving down the road. Didn’t work. That’s how I know he wanted to inspect our shingles. Helpful guy, huh? Just wandering around curious about the condition of everyone’s roofs? Or is it “rooves”? Where’s your editor when I need her…

    Anyway, good one. Like the sheet you made up for the book, too. You should have given a copy to the Onward Christian Soldiers in aisle two… they might have burned down their temple of worship torching it later…

  2. admin says:

    Squat. Thanks? I come, I think, from Trafalmador. I often have the out-of-body sensations that I am not one of you and that I have been placed here to observe… and then report. I see the same dumb-struck wonderment in peoples’ eyes that Billy Pilgrim had with his first encounters with his watchers from that planet.

    Having said that, I’m going to see if I can find a way to drop Montana Wildhack into my lap. I love me some Montana Wildhack.

    As for the interesting and coincidental qualities of my life, I think Dr. Sam I. Am-Johnson said it best when she said, “You, Mooner, are a pot stirrer. No, wait. You, Mooner, are a shit stirrer and you have the worst case of ADD I have ever encountered. I think you attract events because the universe loves conflict. And you, my dear ex-husband, are conflicted.”

    It might be “roofses” but it isn’t, for certain, “roofies”[.]

  3. Gerard Delapuente says:

    I am a Deist, and you are sterotyping, a huge fallacy.

  4. admin says:

    Gerard. OK, first, thanks for stopping by and letting us know how you feel. However, what did I stereotype? Please don’t tell me that you are a Catholic Deist. The only fact-based ideologies bred by the Catholic Church are that the Pope will protect its child rapists and The Holy Roman Catholic Church has stolen trillions of dollars of wealth from the world’s poor.

    OK, wait. I apologize for jumping the gun. How do you think I was stereotyping? And please answer on a new post because I don’t go backwards to read your comments once you are approved.

    But please do come back. I think you might have something smart to say.

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  6. Cristiano says:

    I’d love to shoot with her. I would love to get a picture of her with a gun in her hand and a smile on her face to send out to every lbaeril blogger, activist and reporter to get it out to the public. Nothing bad would come of that. Either the lbaerils would be educated that Gee. Maybe guns are the Evil Things we’re told. or they would quit supporting her and maybe we could get a conservative in office that would do great things for our state.Please, Governor, come shooting with me. I’ll sponsor the day at the range. You can shoot anything you want, all you want.

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