You Can Lead a Hick to Literature But You Can't Make Him Read

Hey! My books are coming out in a few weeks! Yeah. MY books. Actually, they're not completely my books. More like they're about one-sixty-third my books. That's 1/63 in fraction form. I always like to promote math literacy. I have a calling, I think.

So I have a story in each of these two books. What's that? You want to know the name of these books? Sure. I'll be glad to tell you. Since you asked, and all. Not Your Mother's Book...on Being a Parent, and Not Your Mother's Book...on Home Improvement. They're listed for pre-order on Amazon now. But I saw the most interesting sight when I consulted my BFF Google for a link. WALMART dot com has them, too! Don't that just beat all! I wonder if Walmart will have them in the store. I guess time will tell.

Anyhoo...I'm not here to promote myself and strong-arm you into coughing up cash for a book. Not like the text I sent my best ex-teaching buddy, Mabel, this morning. NOT on school time, of course. I asked her how many hundred copies I should put her down for. Can you imagine, she did not give me a straight answer? I'm not doggin' on Mabel. She's my bestie. I hold her in higher regard, even, than Google. She stepped up to bat for me more than once. (Private note just for Mabel: No need for that special text. I know what you did last winter.) Hey, now! Don't go peeping into private correspondence.

Anyhoo 2...I'm not here to communicate privately in plain sight with Mabel. I'm here to let you into the inner sanctum that is my life with Hick. Last night, I called to him from the kitchen, "Hey! My books are coming out in a few weeks!"

And he said, "Good. I'll finally get to read what you wrote about me." Let the record show that only one story is about him. Egomaniac. And that at the time I strong-armed him into signing a release asked if he would sign a release, I handed him a printout of the story. He said, "Naw. I'll sign." That copy languished on the end table by Hick's La-Z-Boy until I feared that it would spontaneously combust. So I threw it away after three weeks, whether most people would consider it trash by then or not. We bandied words over this scenario for a while.

Then I said, "I was just telling you to see if you wanted to buy a copy." Now we all know that Hick is not going to waste precious money on a book. Not even if he could get a metric ton of them for two dollars at the auction. Money is for auction meat, and bug catchers, and cake plates, and Falstaff and Coca Cola memorabilia. Not plain old junk like new books.

"I'm not buyin' no book. I can read yours. You'll get it for free. Why don't you tell your teachers at school about it. Maybe those kind of people will buy one."

I have a feeling that if our house was on the prairie, my boys would be working in the fields, not sitting in the Walnut Grove school house listening to Miss Beadle.