Drink. Swear. Tolerate.

That's going to be the title of my new book that will be hitting bookstores sometime this century.  Or it could be called "Whiskey. Bacon. Dogs." because who doesn't like any of those things and they are all hot in the book selling business right now.  Probably doesn't even matter what the book is about, if you put whiskey or dogs or bacon or pig in the title, people pick it up.

But my book will not have a talking dog, no worries. As much as I enjoyed "The Art of Racing in the Rain" with the dog as the narrator, one of those books is all anyone will tolerate. But I might have a talking pig, see the world through a pig's eyes: trotters and pig ears and bacon and pork belly and tenderloin and chops and salt pork just to name a few of the indignities a pig must contemplate while mulling over its life options.  At least people don't have to think in those terms.  But we have other mulling-over subjects that pigs don't have like taxes and depression and rent and prison and speeding tickets and diarrhea.  (Maybe pigs have that last one, I am not sure.)  So it's a draw, I guess.

Gabe told me that when he was in Bali he saw a sign in a restaurant that said Eat. Pay. Leave.   So much for Eat. Pray. Love.  Which is fine, because it was a pretty lame book, so the pay and leave sign is a little better, at least in my opinion.

Drink. Swear. Tolerate.  I do those things all the time so the book I will be writing will be non-fiction, unless I change it into a story about my imaginary friends, of which I have several. Then it will be fiction with a non-fiction title.  And even if I have that title, there will be a picture of a cute dog or a cute pig on the cover. Or maybe a picture of bacon. Scratch-and-sniff bacon.  Everyone would buy that book.

Time to tolerate my drinking with some swearing.  Later....