The answer to the question
posed in the title:
NO. If you are 16, a high
school junior, and carry a 4.0+ GPA.
YES. If you are the father to the above teenager.
A copy of the wedding invite is pasted below so you can decide for yourself. I think so highly of the invite, I could see myself transformed into a jealous, envious, deceitful, lying thief with haughty eyes and big dreams. It is really that good, at least in my and only my opinion.
If I could travel back to NOVEMBER 5, 1955... I mean MARCH 26, 1994, the day I married my beautiful bride, I would co-op this idea and pawn it off as my own patent pending magnum opus. At the wedding and reception I envision person after person, friend after friend, and family members would be compelled to tell me how much they loved it. I would nod and smile as they lavish and heap praise on me. I would humbly explain, yet again, "I just jotted some notes on the back of a napkin after a Waffle House Grand Slam breakfast. I'm not sure what the hub-bub is all about. Hey, as long as she's (my bride) is happy. That's all that matters."
I would revel, frolic like a pig in mud, in merriment as my bride gushed over me (as she has done since she stumbled upon the waded up napkin in my jeans) because her friends are now jealous and envious, her enemies mad and angry, of her great, I mean extremely attractive charming witty catch (witty is better than funny because it's more difficult to be consistently witty, it's true). They would think thoughts such as WHAT A FISH HE HAS BECOME and WOW! HE'S NOT SUCH A BIG GOOF AFTER ALL and HE IS A REALLY GOOD DANCER, WHO KNEW?
Brilliant, genius, profound, pioneer, visionary... are just a few adjectives now associated with me. 'Literary Superstar' would be my choice. The buzz would hang in the air as my literary masterpiece (my agent's words not mine) would now be known as The Waffle House Napkin Love Manifesto vol. ONE.
My security team, a necessity for literary superstars such as me these days, would coordinate with local police to ensure all birdseed is just birdseed and eliminate all threats to our safety by all means necessary. They have a standing order to return fire at maximum volume because... after all I am a well known reality star too. Better safe than sorry. Did I mention I'm big wig now.
The elite members of my security team, Elite 8, would stand by on stage, complete with dark suits with matching dark glass, as I answered questions from the press about literary awards I'm suddenly favored to win. I would gladly accept the awards and most likely give the all-time-best-ever acceptance speech, spawning bidding wars to secure my monstrous oratory talent on the university graduation commencement circuit.
The Waffle House Napkin Love Manifesto vol. One film rights would be sold and I would write the adaptation... a documentary of the magic that happened in a dingy green Waffle House booth the day I scribbled my way into literary nobility. The whole docu-movie (I know, another original, I can't help it) would take place in the actually booth. That's right. Just the booth. It would smash box office records and become a trilogy. I would start a production company specializing in docu-movies because I'm a business genius. Zero narcissistic actors to accommodate. I can film the whole project on hand held cameras. I'm puttin' it out there right now... docu-movies are next big trend in Hollywood. You heard it here first.:)
The top 3 selling tee shirts printed in the history of tee shirt selling would be:
YES. If you are the father to the above teenager.
A copy of the wedding invite is pasted below so you can decide for yourself. I think so highly of the invite, I could see myself transformed into a jealous, envious, deceitful, lying thief with haughty eyes and big dreams. It is really that good, at least in my and only my opinion.
If I could travel back to NOVEMBER 5, 1955... I mean MARCH 26, 1994, the day I married my beautiful bride, I would co-op this idea and pawn it off as my own patent pending magnum opus. At the wedding and reception I envision person after person, friend after friend, and family members would be compelled to tell me how much they loved it. I would nod and smile as they lavish and heap praise on me. I would humbly explain, yet again, "I just jotted some notes on the back of a napkin after a Waffle House Grand Slam breakfast. I'm not sure what the hub-bub is all about. Hey, as long as she's (my bride) is happy. That's all that matters."
I would revel, frolic like a pig in mud, in merriment as my bride gushed over me (as she has done since she stumbled upon the waded up napkin in my jeans) because her friends are now jealous and envious, her enemies mad and angry, of her great, I mean extremely attractive charming witty catch (witty is better than funny because it's more difficult to be consistently witty, it's true). They would think thoughts such as WHAT A FISH HE HAS BECOME and WOW! HE'S NOT SUCH A BIG GOOF AFTER ALL and HE IS A REALLY GOOD DANCER, WHO KNEW?
Brilliant, genius, profound, pioneer, visionary... are just a few adjectives now associated with me. 'Literary Superstar' would be my choice. The buzz would hang in the air as my literary masterpiece (my agent's words not mine) would now be known as The Waffle House Napkin Love Manifesto vol. ONE.
My security team, a necessity for literary superstars such as me these days, would coordinate with local police to ensure all birdseed is just birdseed and eliminate all threats to our safety by all means necessary. They have a standing order to return fire at maximum volume because... after all I am a well known reality star too. Better safe than sorry. Did I mention I'm big wig now.
The elite members of my security team, Elite 8, would stand by on stage, complete with dark suits with matching dark glass, as I answered questions from the press about literary awards I'm suddenly favored to win. I would gladly accept the awards and most likely give the all-time-best-ever acceptance speech, spawning bidding wars to secure my monstrous oratory talent on the university graduation commencement circuit.
The Waffle House Napkin Love Manifesto vol. One film rights would be sold and I would write the adaptation... a documentary of the magic that happened in a dingy green Waffle House booth the day I scribbled my way into literary nobility. The whole docu-movie (I know, another original, I can't help it) would take place in the actually booth. That's right. Just the booth. It would smash box office records and become a trilogy. I would start a production company specializing in docu-movies because I'm a business genius. Zero narcissistic actors to accommodate. I can film the whole project on hand held cameras. I'm puttin' it out there right now... docu-movies are next big trend in Hollywood. You heard it here first.:)
The top 3 selling tee shirts printed in the history of tee shirt selling would be:
- Stack Goings... The Lewis and Clark of Literature
My Christian rap career
would explode launching a trillion dollar apparel line, a billion
dollar best selling cologne, and a quadtrillion dollar biotech company listed
on the NY Stock Exchange under the symbol ME. I would buy the Cleveland
Browns franchise and restore their honor and dignity when I coach them to five
consecutive Superbowl wins.
All that happens, if and only if, I was creative and possessed the courage to do something so unique.
All that happens, if and only if, I was creative and possessed the courage to do something so unique.
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