By request from a ghost.

This house is so haunted with dead men I can't lose, and the James Frey saga takes a mildly interesting turn as today and yesterday marked the first two days in which customers have attempted to return James Frey's A Million Little Pieces. Wednesday's child was a woman while Thursday's was a man, but I wonder if they were returning the same book; in both instances, it was a nasty, yellowed, beaten-up copy of the book¹. The milestones come fast and furious at my little store; the other day, Interpol bassist Carlos D. graced the customer service desk with his presence. The enterprising hipster reading this blog will have already made his or her own joke about Mr. Dengler looking for books on herpes, so I will refrain from stepping on your toes, you savvy scenester.

I don't know why I insist on acting like anyone cares, but a new Detonation Radio, surely the most half-assed installment yet, should be up within 24 hours. Wheeeeeee.

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¹ My theory is that the woman who tried and failed to return the book on Wednesday got her spouse or a male friend or relative to make a second attempt, under the often correct (in my experience) reasoning that a man is more likely to get a refund than a woman is. It didn't work this time, in part because BN's James Frey policy is to accept returns of the book only under the normal circumstances for a return (i.e. within two weeks with a receipt) and in part because the book was completely jacked-up.