Whoopi Goldberg speaks...
Hey. Hey, you. Yeah, you. The one with the keyboard. I'm so glad you clicked on my book. I wrote it so you'd read it.
Now, here's where I'm supposed to say all kinds of hip, Whoopi-esque stuff to get you to buy it. Clicking on it is just the first step. Buying it, that's a whole other contract.
So this is when we seal the deal, when I tell you, in my own inimitable way, how uproarious and provocative this book is, how out there, and cutting edge, and whatever else I can think to throw into the mix. Or, I could say things like, "Not since War and Peace. . ." or "Move over, Alice Walker. . ." or "This book does for the written word what Pat Boone did for heavy metal. . ."
Well, come on now. Let's face it, if this book were all those things, it'd be a novel, and I wouldn't resort to such low tactics. You'd just buy it and move on, or wait for someone to turn it into a movie. So I'll give it to you straight. This book doesn't suck. It'll make you laugh—maybe not out loud, but in that place deep down where you know a good joke when you hear one. It'll make you think—also not out loud, because, you know, that'd be a little strange. Hell, it might even get you to reconsider a few things, and consider a few others for the first time.
You can take this book to bed, or to the beach, and it won't ask you to swallow, or rub lotion on its back. It doesn't cost a whole lot of money. And (best of all!) it's collectible. Buy a few—one to read and a couple more to set aside for your retirement, cause these suckers are gonna go up in value like nobody's business. Trust me on this. One to read, and a couple more to set aside. You won't be sorry.
And neither will I.