Dear Goodreads, Finally You Did Something Right!

Yo, Goodreads,

I read about your policy changes, and I wanted to let you know that I am in full support. I know that comes as a relief to you because who doesn’t want Bill on their side? Everyone. I mean, no one. Wait. That question was phrased a little awkwardly. Anyway, I just wanted to give you the big ol’ thumbs up from Bill. As an author, I applaud your efforts to keep Goodreads focused where it should be -on selling my book.

I heard that you are cracking down on so-called reviews that don’t actually talk about books, and I approve. Hello, people! Anyone home? It’s called a book review, not an “author pooped on my shoe at a book signing last week” review! Because that only happened that once. Maybe twice.  And you’re only getting one side of the story. What am I supposed to do when someone tells me that my book is sexist and she wouldn’t stoop to even use it as toilet paper? I’ll show you stooping, lady!  **

I also appreciate that you are eliminating removing shelves that are derogatory toward authors. (In your face, Mom! I told you that your stupid “Author isn’t housebroken” shelf wouldn’t fly! And you know you had it coming, too. Maybe that’ll teach you not to wear flip flops at your age. This isn’t over!) Such things hurt sales and have nothing to do with the quality of the book at all. Actually, that’s not true. The quality of the book is directly proportional to the antics of the author. The bigger the turd, the better the book. That’s how it’s supposed to be.

We authors are special snowflakes. The enormous, awesome, rock star kind of snowflakes. Seriously. Rock. Star. The Rolling Stones get to trash hotel rooms. Writers are at least as good as musicians. We ought to get some kind of perk, right? If Keith Richards can toss a TV off a balcony, doesn’t an author get to allegedly poop on the occasional shoe? People need us to be outrageous.

We writers are also a little temperamental at times, sure. We’re all prone to the PMS and what not, even us guys. It’s a curse to be creative sometimes. A rotten, monthly curse. Sometimes we fly off the handle and say things we shouldn’t, but does the world need to know we called our critics “shifty-eyed nose-pickers?” It does not. Some things should remain private. Especially things that hurt my our sales. Thank you, Goodreads, for understanding this and taking swift and dictatorial authoritative action. I commend you. And I’ll ask you to do the same for me. Just go to my book and click the little five-star symbol. Just click it. I don’t care if you’ve actually read it, and I know you don’t, either.

Your pal,


**My attorney would like to go on record stating that the alleged shoe pooping incident did not, in fact, happen. We plead not guilty.

Posted in books, satire | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments

What’s Wrong With America

Dear friends,

I went for a walk last night. Well, not so much a walk as a trip to the mall to buy Dippin’ Dots. They’re the ice cream of the future, you see. But as I was enjoying those heavenly morsels and puzzling their unmeltable wonder (how do they do that?), I took a look around me. Our future is bleak, folks, with or without ice cream marbles.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking “Bill, you’re old. You’re getting ready to complain about kids today.” I wish I could say that is true. Kids are stupid. Everybody knows that. But it’s not just kids. Grown-up people who should have some sense about them are doing the same thing.

I am talking, of course, about low-rise jeans. If no one else will tell you, your buddy Bill will. They don’t look good. On anybody. Sure, the images WordPress suggests to me show lovely gals in their skinny jeans. They clearly take kickbacks from the garment industry because there are no photos of low-rise jeans gone wrong. It’s all fun and games until someone has to squat down to tie a shoe. Not all cleavage is created equal, folks.

And it’s not just girls. I went in to buy some new jeans at The Gap. Don’t judge. Their cotton is extra soft. But the only ones I could find didn’t even come past my hips, much less to my rib cage where God intended.. What’s a guy got to do to find pants that give their belly a little extra lift. And when I squatted down , I discovered a convenient receptacle for my umbrella. Was I sleeping? When did plumber become the new sexy?

I’m not going to take this lying down. Mostly because I cannot lie down in my new skinny jeans. But also because it is up to us to make a difference and overcome this terrifying trend. Some people prepare for the crashy and explosive end of the world or the zombie apocalypse. I’m rolling up my sleeves and getting ready to take on the low-rise revolution.

Hitch up your pants and buy a belt, friend.

Hitch up your pants and buy a belt, friend.

Your good buddy,


*** For the record, I am greatly disappointed that no links on Dippin’ Dots appear in the related content box as I type this. They are the ice cream of the future, folks! Doesn’t WordPress have an eye to the future. Oh, now there are links.  Interesting how I only had to mention sexism and Merle Haggard once in my last post to get links, but Dippin’ Dots requires twice. Well, I’m not using them now! Too little, too late, folks.

Posted in humor | Tagged , , , , , | 3 Comments

Look At Me!

It’s a guest post. Because I am awesome. I am a good guest and almost never pee on the towels. Invite me over if you can cook. Or come and read me here:

Posted in rants, satire | Tagged , | Leave a comment