I think I’m going to write a book. Now, all I have to do is decide what the book will be about.

One thing’s for sure: It won’t be a “self improvement” book. I am not a psychiatrist, psychologist, economist, or Oprah Winfrey. To be quite frank, I’m not qualified to give out advice on any subject. Anything in my columns that even remotely resembles advice should be completely disregarded. I say this upon the advice of both my publisher and attorney, who ask that you read and initial the following disclaimer before going any further:

I UNDERSTAND THAT THE VIEWS EXPRESSED IN THIS COLUMN ARE FOR INFORMATIONAL PURPOSES ONLY, AND THAT I SHOULD CONSULT WITH MY OWN PERSONAL DOCTOR, PSYCHIATRIST, THERAPIST, FINANCIAL ADVISOR, OR SPIRITUAL GUIDE TO RESOLVE ANY PERSONAL ISSUES I MIGHT HAVE. I ACKNOWLEDGE THAT SERIOUS INJURY OR EVEN DEATH COULD RESULT IF ONE ROLLS THIS COLUMN UP AND POKES SOMEONE’S EYE. I FURTHER HEREBY WAIVE ANY CLAIMS I MAY HAVE AS A RESULT OF FOLLOWING ANY ADVICE IN THIS COLUMN, BECAUSE I WAS JUST TOLD NOT TO AND THEN DID IT ANYWAY, AND I HEREBY RELEASE THE EDITOR, THE PUBLISHER, THE AUTHOR, AND THE AUTHOR’S ATTORNEY, ESPECIALLY THE EDITOR AND THE ATTORNEY, WHO, FRANKLY, ARE BOTH WORRIED SICK THAT THEY MAY HAVE SOME PERSONAL LIABILITY OF THEIR OWN.

_____ (initial) I’ve read and accept the above terms.

My book will definitely not be a “how to” book. Before you start trying to tell somebody “how to,” you first have to “know how,” and I don’t. If I was a “know how” kind of guy, I’d probably be at Home Depot right now, picking out building materials for a home-improvement project, instead of sitting at my computer, writing this stuff. My last home-improvement project was over a year ago, and my wife is still complaining that the kids’ toilet doesn’t flush any better than it did before I changed every damn part in the toilet tank.

If anything, this book will be a “how come?” book, because if there’s anything I’ve learned about life, it’s that the questions are more important than the answers. Bookstore shelves are filled with all kinds of books written by people who claim to have all the answers and are willing to share these answers with you – for $25. Don’t buy my book if you want answers. I don’t have any. But I do have some really interesting questions, which I’m willing to sell to you for $25.

We live in a world where we are not encouraged to ask questions. You need look no further than your own computer keyboard to find that out, where the “/” takes precedence over the “?” every time.

Want to ask a question, like “Are you sure there are weapons of mass destruction over there?” Not so fast! You have to hit the “shift” key first, and then you can add a question mark at the end of your sentence.

Want to be a mealy-mouthed, flip-floppy, wishy-washy, waffling weasel who can’t make up his mind about anything? No problem! You’re in the express lane! Go right to the slash key. (Sorry, but those “and/or people” really chafe my ass!)

So what will be the objective of this book? The answer to that question is contained in the questions itself. The book itself is the objective.

My goal is to write a book – any book about anything, or about nothing at all, for that matter – whatever it takes to get my name in the Library of Congress or the Dewey Decimal System or wherever such records are kept. The reason is simple: I want to feel like I’ve made a difference in the world, and since someone else has already invented seedless watermelons, this seems like the logical alternative.

Here’s how my book writing has gone so far:

Day One: I commence on what I hope to be a great American novel, or at least an average Bulgarian novella. I get no further than typing the title, The Book (A Working Title), when I’m interrupted by a pop-up: “New updates are ready to be installed on your computer. Your computer will restart in 3, 2, 1 seconds…”

Screen goes black. Whole trend of thought shot!

I get up and have a couple of glasses of wine, which makes me drowsy, and I turn in early.

Day Two: My wife’s annual “Employee Appreciation Dinner” for work. My attendance is mandatory.

Day Three: Tough day at work! I have a couple of glasses of wine. Too drowsy to write.

Day Four: Pivotal basketball game on TV, which will determine if LSU wins the SEC outright or shares the championship with someone else.

Day Five: Replay of the 2003 LSU vs. Mississippi State football game on TV. I had forgotten how short Nick Saban is!

Day Six: Finally, after several disappointing attempts to get this book off the ground, I am able to get back to my computer and do some work! It’s a good day. Before I finish, I’ve written 900 good words, not the least of which are “paroxysm” and “happy as a clam at high tide.”

Day Seven: I am truly inspired! Ideas are streaming through my head faster than I can write them down. All day long I stuff my pockets full of notes scribbled on envelopes, napkins, Post-its. I rush home from work, spread my notes out on my desk and start typing. Then my screen goes black.

This happens a lot… Usually, if I take my battery out and put it back in again, it… No, still dead. Darn! Have to bring it to the computer shop.

Day Eight: Receive call from the computer shop. “Your battery needed to be recharged. Did you try plugging your computer in?”

Day Nine: I have my computer back. The book is going well. I work on it feverishly.

Day Ten: After several rewrites, I believe I am onto something really important. I notice, however, upon review of my work to date, that it is written entirely in rhyme, which I had not intentionally set out to do. I decide to give the manuscript to my wife Rosa for review and criticism.

Day Eleven: Rosa hands me back my manuscript, along with one of the kids’ Dr. Seuss books. “You have plagiarized Green Eggs and Ham, verbatim,” she says. I am stunned! Shocked beyond belief! But there is no denying it. There it is! I have subconsciously copied the whole thing, word for word! I decide to scrap the whole manuscript.

So, here I am, back at Square One. That’s why I’m asking you, my loyal readers, for donations of any original written material you can spare, to help this book of mine become a reality. Those of you with no literary talent can also contribute by way of monetary donations, which will be used to employ a ghost writer to assimilate the various pieces of donated written material into a quilt-like mass of literary gumbo – something undoubtedly as good as anything William Faulkner could have written while under the influence of LSD.