« it's the sport of kings, better than diamond rings |
Main
| my big fat gay weekend ii:
even gayer »
June 11, 2009
the acid test
My mom, as I've written previously, was a complete flake. Whatever vapid trend there was, she was right there, with bells on, four years later. Turquoise. Wheat germ. Disco. The healing power of crystals. However embarrassed you were of your mother, I assure you that it paled next to my own apoplexy.
My god, the self-help books. That's all there was to read in my house. Those, and Prevention magazine. There was relatively mainstream stuff like Jonathan Livingston Seagull, but Mom gravitated toward mystical stuff like The Psychic Side of Sports.
She had no interest in sports.
For one Christmas, I agonized over what to get Mom. I was in the bookstore, and I sarcastically thought "I could just go to the freaking Self Help section, pick a book at random, and she'll love it." And then I realized this cynical theory simply must be tested. I walked to the section. I closed my eyes, twirled and pointed. Thud.
"DEATH" said the huge yellow letters on the book's black cover.
"Jeeeeeeeezus. That's one tough sell to someone with cancer," I thought. "Talk about the acid test." And thus, on Christmas morning Mom unwrapped this treatise on the implications of an afterlife.
Within days, she was excitedly recommending it to her friends.
posted by john at 8:18 AM • permalink