Dear Kindle Readers,
Part of the overall bizarre experience of writing my first book, In Fifty Years We’ll All Be Chicks, was thinking about it coming out on Kindle as an ebook. These Kindles are amazing. You can fit 3,500 books on something the size of two maxi-pads. And as my grandpa used to say, there’s nothing like curling up in front of a roaring fire with 3,470 good books.
Unlike you good people, I was never a big book fan. In fact, we’ve had a troubled relationship. I was unable to get my high school diploma because I had not returned a copy of We the People to the school library. It occurs to me that in a few short years the Kindle could render the library obsolete, which is a troubling thought. I don’t know if I want to live in a country where an able-bodied, unemployable guy can’t waste a Tuesday reading a USA Today that’s been spot-welded to a bamboo Japanese fighting stick.
I still can’t get over the capacity of these things: 3,500 books. Can we figure out a way to apply this technology to other areas? Hey Mr. Kindle, for your next invention, let’s focus on a thermos that holds eighty gallons of beer, a lunch box that holds a six-foot sub, or a single suitcase that can contain Lady Gaga’s entire wardrobe. And if you could find a way to stuff her in there too, and then lose it at LAX, that would be great.
Strangest of all was when I was asked to write for this Kindle blog. First, Kindle blog sounds like an obscure Austrian holiday celebrated the first Sunday after Christmas. “Run to the butcher, fetch his fattest goose, and prepare the figgy pudding. Tomorrow is Kindleblog!” But more important, prior to this, the longest thing I’d written on the Internet were some tweets and my eBay password.
By the way, right now you’re reading on your Kindle about reading on your Kindle. This is getting too deep, man. I’ve got to wrap this up. It’s harshing my mellow.
Hilarious. And insightful! Per usual. By the way, I’ve picked up my copy of the hardcover book (I don’t own a Kindle). Have you?
(via Kindle Post)