This past week I had three book signings . . . including one at Walden's in the mall at Terre Haute on Friday night. I did happen to see a few old friends (emphasis here on "few") and I signed even fewer books.
Book signings in malls are always strange (at least mine are). And the conversations are even stranger. One guy dropped by the book table to ask, "Does your church practice holiness?"
"Sure," I said (knowing full well that what he meant by "holiness" was not what I meant by "holiness", but by God I was gonna play with his mind . . . after all, I had to justify spending $20 in gasoline in order to earn $1.40 in royalties from signing two books).
"So," he continued, "you preach that women should keep silent and that women should only wear dresses, and that men shouldn't wear short pants, right?"
He seemed immensely pleased with his brand of holiness.
I blew his mind by telling him that the only woman I could ever silence was my wife (and only when I took her out to dinner and stuffed her mouth full of crab cakes and lasagna) and that if I weren't doing this really boring book signing in the armpit of Indiana I'd be sitting at home on a Friday night in my really short wedgie-style underwear eating popcorn out of an old Charlie's Angels lunchbox shaped like a tushie and listening to my wife talk about her education classes and the top ten reasons why her IQ is superior to mine.
Naturally he didn't buy a book. Thank God!
Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God of hosts.
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