Hey, y'all, here's something random that may be of interest: I just got Lawrence Block's newsletter, and he's trying to clear space in his warehouse. As a result, he's selling off the audiobook version of his book Telling Lies For Fun and Profit. They're $20 a pop, but he'll sell a carton of 25 for $100. You can buy them off his website, www.lawrenceblock.com.

More info:

If you can use these for resale, you won't have to sell many before you're in the black. If you've got writer friends, you can fill their Xmas stockings for $4 apiece. This is, as you may have guessed, a good deal lower than our production cost, but we have to free up some warehouse space.

It's a limited offer—once we've sold down to the level we want, the deal's over. I want to give you newsletter subscribers first crack at this, so it won't be listed on the website. You can order on the web, however; just enter "25" for quantity. You'll get a confirming email automatically, with some ridiculous numbers on it, but don't pay any attention to that; David Trevor will send you a personal email confirming the sale and the real price.

Or, as always, you have the option of ordering directly by email; just include your credit card information (number and exp date) and your shipping address. If you've ordered from us before and your information hasn't changed, just include the last four digits of your cc number, plus the exp date.

Can't scribble in an audio book, can't dog-ear the useful pages. Sigh.

Yeah, it seems like that kind of book would be especially weird/not useful on tape, but I thought I'd mention it.

Yeah, it seems like that kind of book would be especially weird/not useful on tape

That's probably why he has so many to sell.

I actually do want that book. But I want the book.

Connie, he says the book is in print in a $12 trade paper. So you should be able to just, you know, buy it.

I'm cheap, I keep checking the used shelves at the book store. Point of perverse honor.

I'm cheap, I keep checking the used shelves at the book store. Point of perverse honor.

Aww. Connie is me.

A man walks into a bar. On his way in, he stumbles, which strikes him odd, as a way to *start* the evening, but he gets in and orders a Scotch, mostly to get served by Phoebe, the pretty new waitress with the amazing hazel eyes.

After a few minutes, he’s sure he’s made an impression, and he’s already anticipating the feel of her hair, how those eyes will widen with the pleasure of a kiss. Maybe one day, they will talk about all those poems she reads. She brings a fresh bowl of pretzels, and she looks over at him. Great, he thinks, I made an impression.

“Sir?” she says.

“Call me Ed,” he thinks.

“I think you dropped this,”

Blushing, he hops over and retrieves his prosthetic leg.