Ross Perot, I Love You, Really

So I have a blog entry in the works - an icky entry, which recounts the story of how I literally got pissed on - but it isn't done yet. Mind you, it is not a glowing, urine-colored beacon of light, not a shocking expose of the toilet industry, nothing like that; it is merely the kind of gross-but-oddly-funny-so-long-as-you-aren't-the-protagonist story I love to tell.

However, as I said, it isn't done yet. So for now I give you the thought that has plaguing me all day:

When Ross Perot looks at this book cover:

What does he think about?

Does he think, "damn it. Here I had a book praising my heroism, written by the guy who would later write Pillars of the Earth - a man who would go on to obtain Oprah's blessing, and subsequent endorsement - and it did nothing. I suck."

Or: "God, that Ken Follett guy was no help at all. What a douche bag. He owes me big time."

Or maybe: "Hmm, think maybe that cover made me look like kind of a cocky bastard? Heroic, but cocky?"

I don't know. But I think enlisting a guy whose previous writing experience is limited to thrilling tales of espionage to promote your bid for presidency is probably not the wisest course of action. At the very least, don't put your picture on the cover. Because somewhere (here) a young bookstore employee (me) is giggling at you (Perot).

And using you to delay writing a real blog post, at that.