"I've decided to make some big money by being a writer," my neighbor Babble said to me. "From looking at you, I figure it can't be that hard."
Best of luck to you, Babble, I said. What are you writing?
"A best-selling novel, of course. That's what brings in the big bucks, right?"
Correct. So, what do you figure will be a best-seller?
"Something like what's already a best-seller, obviously. Isn't the biggest book of the past year that '50 Shades of Grey' thing?"
It's big, all right. In fact, it's a hot-selling trilogy, spawning bunches of imitators and even parodies. But, Babble, it's an erotic novel, about a man and a woman doing naughty things. Imaginative, but naughty.
"Yeah, and I hear it's women readers who are snapping it up. Gee, and you and I always thought women were sweet, refined, pure-minded beings, who would never let a smutty thought cross their minds."
We did think that, but I guess there must be some exceptions. Hey, you're not writing a dirty book, are you?
"Heck, no. Instead of sex, my book will exploit the only other obsession with such a powerful, inescapable hold upon people."
Which is …
"Baby Boomer nostalgia, of course."
Baby Boomer nostalgia?
"You know we Boomers can't stop obsessing about what an incomparable time it was, in those long-ago decades when we were young and hip. I figure there's a page-turner in that."
With that, Babble handed me his manuscript. The title page read:
"50 SHADES OF HARVEST GOLD AND AVOCADO"
"She allowed him to lead her into the kitchen," it began. "She said, 'Do we really have time for this? You know the Sonny and Cher show will be on in half an hour.'
"'Don't worry,' he replied. 'It'll only take a minute to do the Jiffy Pop popcorn.' Suavely, he reached for a glass and poured her a Tab.
"What, she wondered, was it that had first attracted her to him? Was it the way he danced the hustle? Or was it his hip, with-it dress: the five-inch-wide paisley tie, the jacket with lapels wide enough to land helicopters on? Or, when he dressed casually, the tie-dyed shirt that went so well with the elephant bell-bottoms?
"Clearly, this was going to be a special evening, and she was glad she had ironed her hair beforehand.
"'No TV tonight,' he informed her. 'We're going to the anti-Vietnam protest downtown. It's being put on by the Student Violent Non-Coordinating Committee. And I have something special planned tonight.'
