'Rasslin

I have several blog post I want to get written including one with pictures and commentary of the party and wife my friends threw for the release of THE FEEDSTORE CHRONICLES. My former boss at the feedstore was in attendance along with 2 of his 3 sons and one ex wife. Yes the one that twice tried to kill him so I of course have some interesting tales to share about our little reunion the other night, but today I wanna share what has to be the most outlandish dream I've ever had.

As anyone who follows me on Facebook or twitter already knows my world is completely consumed with book promo at the moment. And while it is probably not productive or even healthy to do so I check my Amazon sales rank at least half a dozen times a day. After the initial sales burst the book's ranking has fallen a but but at its peak, THE FEEDSTORE CHRONICLES reached #478 on the list of all books and #38 among books in the humor category.

Humor has lots of stiff competition with many of the books having been written by celebrities and that I presume was the catalyst for my peculiar nocturnal illusion last night.

The dream started with a call from my publisher. We'll call her Dee, because well that is her name.

Dee tells me to be at such and sch address at 8 PM sharp for a special Amazon promo guaranteed to raise my sales ranking. When I show up she hands me some bright red tights and a pair of electric blue wrestling boots. Quickly explaining I am to wrestle the other authors in my category she says, "Do whatever it takes to win because your rank depends on it."

And this is when it gets really weird.

I enter the arena under a barrage of boos. Now I'll be the first to admit I'm no Adonis so strutting around in red boots and lace up blue boots is not a look all that becoming, but still I could't help be be taken aback by the fan's venom.

Then the announcer grabbed the PA and shouted my opponents name. America's Favorite Funnyman ... Bill Cosby.

The crowd cheered wildly as Mr. Pudding Pop himself made his way to the ring. Cosby's latest book was released the same day as THE FEEDSTORE CHRONICLES and while his tome has stayed atop the ranking there was a short time where I was actually ahead of him on Amazon.

Just as he didn't asked to be born, I didn't ask to fight him but that is what I did. And amid a chorus of hate-filled taunts I kicked Cosby's ass right there in that ring. I pinned him following a piledriver but the jog back to dressing room was rougher than anything Heathcliff Huxtable dished out.

Dee was quite excited I'd won but I wasn't feeling so good. Sure I'd given an old man a beat down but now all of America seemed to hate me for it. "Don't worry," Dee said. "Everyone loves a winner. Keep kicking butt and they will come around."

A few minutes later I was again summoned to the ring. This time the crowd cheered wildly. My opponent was already in the ring. Tucker Max, of I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell fame.

The crowd threw their beer at Max who is a self-proclaimed asshole and womanizer. Happy to be the good guy in the bout me I tore into to Tucker but he proved a tough opponent. At one point his bit me on the nose but I finally triumphed and knocked him out cold with a flying elbow.

And then my dream got even more strange.

I was slated to fight Tina Fey, which sounded kinda like fun to me but before the bell could ring both Alec and Stephen Baldwin attacked me from behind.

The Baldwins beat the hell out of my kicking and stomping while shouting, "How does it feel to get your ass kicked by a vegetarian!"

The referee disqualified Tina Fey and despite the being bloodied and bruised I moved on in the big Amazon Wrestling Extravaganza. AWE for short.

I'd made it the main event and Dee was excited. Her partner at TAG Publishing Liz showed up to give me some pointers. She had been scouting all the matches and informed me I;d be battling Chelsea Handler for the title. Now some of you long time readers may recall my twitter campaign a year or so back to convince Chelsea to consider my work for her new book imprint and while I did eventually manage to get a tweet and a message from Chelsea that was as far as things ever got.

Liz explained that Chelsea had won all her matches by fighting dirty. She'd distracted Ellen DeGeneres by flashing her boobs, seduced Anthony Bourdain into submission, and stabbed David Sedaris in the abdomen with a high heel.

But when we got to the ring, Chelsea was yawning and proclaiming loudly she was bored with all this fighting fuss. Besides, Chelsea said, "I only like to roll around with black guys, so I'm going to let Chuy fight this one for me.

That is when I got cocky. And pissed. Because I'd been looking forward to to grappling with someone with Chelsea's assets, but instead of a pretty blond I'd be groping a fat wee little sweaty Latino. But for the first time I thought, Yes I can be the humor king. If I can;t whip an old fat dude half my height I don't deserve to be at the top.

The bell rang.

Chuy screamed, "Viva La Mexico!" and ran at me.

midgety missile my red tight enshrouded gonads made direct contact with Chuy's onrushing forehead.

I fell to the mat.

Chuy pinned me.

Dee and Liz shook their head. "You were that close and you let an elf beat you."

I hung my head in shame and trudged from the arena amid the raucous chorus of VIVA LA MEXICO!


A sad dream for sure, but you my friends can help me sleep better at night. Buy a copy of THE FEEDSTORE CHRONICLES now for yourself and all your friends. Trust me, it will make a much better Christmas present than any of those other humor books. My leaping ability aside.