Why the fuck isn’t my book selling? I stopped checking my Amazon.com sales rank when it sank into six digits. Now, it’s almost at seven digits. I am mortified.

 Amazon.com Reviews: I don't have any, and, at this point, it's a little embarrassing. There are some books on Amazon that one wouldn't think would have sold a single copy, but they have, and somebody has taken the time to write a review. So, you lazy bastards, I thought that I'd help you out by giving you some sample Amazon.com reviews  that you can borrow and make your very own.

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This book is  so beautiful, that if it were sitting at a bar, I'd go up to it and "make my move," probably get shot down, and then go home and weep gently into my pillow.

If you want to take my money playing poker, get really, really drunk.

It was Ivan’s turn to deal. After the deal, we all go to look at our
cards before the first round of betting. Ivan, to “get it started
right,” then says, “Let’s ride the pony, gentlemen.” There was a
horrible, awkward pause.

We both know what you’re into, and it’s cool with me.

The West Coast Museum Tour culminates in Vancouver, a town that I love all out of proportion to the amount of time that I actually spent there. Explanation: for grad school, I went to the University of Washington (the less said about that place, the better), and whenever I needed to chill out, I would drive up to Vancouver for some excellent Chinese food (go to Hon’s for the pot stickers) and then walk around Stanley Park, looking out at the bay and thinking vaguely sad and romantic thoughts. I'm a poet, man, give me a break.

Have you ever had one of those days where you have this vague feeling of dread, like something bad happened that you don’t know about, or it’s happening? I've felt like that since last week, ever since I figured out what a big production the West Coast Museum Tour was going to have to be if I want to get to all of the best West Coast museums.

Poker Problem: Why must God destroy everything that I love?

The set-up: Why did the doctor ask the nurse for more lotion?

The Punch Line: I want to die. 

A priest, a rabbi, and a monk walk into a bar. They look at each other and sense that they are mere pawns in a situation that is beyond their control.