I tried to go Christmas shopping.
I didn't have the money to do it properly.
November was slow and I won't see any Veruca money until next year.
I wandered around Borders.
The doomed one in Uptown.
Most of the books on display were penned by angry white comedians or comediennes who slept around.
A table crammed with big cocks and loud twats.
Like in a gag shoppe.
A few of these books started as blogs.
I skimmed some of Shit My Dad Says.
Would make a better calendar.
I imagine they did that already.
A sticker on the cover promoted its new sitcom.
$h*! My Dad Says.
I had seen a commercial for that show.
It looked worthless.
But it is success.
Good for him.
He came up with a good idea and made it work for him.
And it was turned into televised horseshit.
But at least that guy did something with it.
I walked out of Borders empty handed.