|This is a bimbo-friendly bookstore with millions of shorter words.|
Come on out to position yourselves in an adoring circle around my feet like children at the library, so your perverted uncle Lyn can read you a story. What if the swooning literary masses overcrowd the space? Well, I can seat one supermodel on my left leg, one on my right leg, and two sets of identical-twin cover girls on my middle leg (or as some artistic types call it: my muse). Let me reiterate this is all an attempt on my part to give back to the community.
|Guess which store occupant makes Lyn drool and forget his own name.|
Still, don't try to impress Michelle by babbling about Proust or Joyce or Archie and Jughead as I did over a beer with the lady. Her razor-sharp wit can reduce an insecure man like me into a pile of ashes, even without knowing of her intimidating experience restraining and handcuffing disrespectful men as a police babe in the past. (Wait, that little infobit isn't so off-putting after all, is it?)
|Mexican police don't even have to be bribed to hang around here.|
I'm sure that Michelle like most of us has been ferociously bullied into attending anti-bullying seminars, where one is hypnotized to sleep then programmed to believe that committing suicide or genocide is better than being accused of insensitivity. Hopefully, she'll maintain her reputation for respecting the wishes of others by doing the wild thing with me.
|A gift certificate from Lyn for a nonliterary binding and dissemination.|
All my mentally-disturbed bullshit aside, I sincerely hope our many friends in San Miguel, plus those of our enemies who don't carry weapons, will show up to celebrate the survival and success of an independant bookstore in Mexico that doesn't specialize in comic books, telenovela digests, or porno mags. Viva zapatas (with sexy ankle straps) y viva la literatura!