Without doubt, the rise of the so called "self-help" book, has been driving publishing for a long time. Most bookstores have a section of "self-help" titles--books that, supposedly, assist people in changing their lives, their finances, their relationships, their jobs, their cars, or anything that ails them.
But I've come to the conclusion that these books are lost on me. I can't help myself. Only God can help me . . . and my wife.
In fact, my wife helps me more than I help myself. She tells me how to dress, what to cook, how to cook it, and, in the event I'm up late writing at the computer, she might even poke her head into the office at 2 a.m. and bark, "Knock it off and get to bed!"
You can't get that kind of help from a book. Still, I wonder . . . . I've got some great self-help titles. Surely there are some poor, pathetic souls out there who think they can help themselves if they purchase a small tree carcass for $12.95. How about:
You've Fallen and You Can't Get Up: Ten Steps To Help You Rise Out of Your Lazy-Boy Recliner
Watching Rachel Ray Cook: How to Make the Most of Your Hamburger Helper
Drugs, Sex, and Rock-n-Roll: A How-to Guide for Getting More from Your Boring Mid-Life Crisis
The Wisdom of Forrest Gump: A Lover's Guide to Shrimpin', Pimpin', and Making Your Own Chocolates
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