#BookTour “Jay Got Married” by James Robinson Jr

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Title: Jay Got Married

Author: James Robinson Jr.

Genre: Non-Fiction Humor

Jay Got Married consists of 9 humorous and, at times, poignant essays chronicling the ironies of everyday life in word and picture. Take for example the lead essay, aptly titled, “Jay got Married,” where I find myself mired in a horrendous dream.

In the fantasy, my aging father–dressed in his favorite Champion t-shirt with stains covering the front–marries my wife and I like he did 42 years ago but, this time around, the my 92-year-old ex-clergy dad forgets his lines causing me to coach him through the event with hints like: “ask for the rings, ask for the rings.” All the while, my best man sings Sonny and Cher’s, “I Got You Babe.”

Finally married, my wife and I end the ceremony with a kiss. But as I turn to exit, my eyes catch a glimpse of the bridesmaid who is no longer my wife’s best friend but now Gal Gadot from Dell Comics and Wonder Woman Fame. She is dressed in full Wonder Women regalia and looks totally shocked by the whole affair.

My mother turns to my father (now in the audience) with a quizzical look and says, “Dad, look at that bridesmaid. Isn’t that Superman?” She doesn’t get out much.

As we exit the church, and the bubbles fill the air–no one uses rice anymore—my wife ignores the limo and takes off on a sleek motorcycle, leaving me in the lurch—hence the cover.

Sure, it’s sounds crazy. But, in truth, isn’t the world of marriage crazy these days? In my case, what would one do when faced with the prospect of losing their beloved wife after 42 years? At age 67, would they remarry? Would they even want to remarry? These and other marital tidbits are discussed with humor and as much reverence as I could muster.

P.S. The author pairs up with Wonder Woman again in a final bit of photo wizardry Why? How? How are tricky copyright infringement laws avoided? Read Jay Got Married and find out.

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EXCERPT

CELEBRITY

Because We Need to Know

Who’s living with whom, who’s breaking up with whom, who’s having sex with whom? In the scheme of things, do we really need to know? Does the public really have the right to hear about the intimate details of the lives of the rich and famous? Well, guess what! You’re damned right, we do. It’s called celebrity. And they say that’s what famous people have signed up for. They may not have realized they were making a pact with the devil when they scribbled their name on the dotted line (You see, their eyes were all blurry with the prospect of fame and fortune.), but that’s what they did.

It might look something like this:

Teaser 1

Had they read the small print, they would’ve seen the following:

“The public, including all the losers, bozos, Walmart dwellers…”

(Here, check these out:)

Teaser 2

“…and sociopaths, whom I never would’ve come within ten feet of prior to success, will have all rights and privileges to my family, property, belongings, and garbage, should they choose to go through it.”

Translation: “Any member of the creepy public, as well as the paparazzi and my adoring fans, can get all in my shit any damn time they please, without so much as a Hello.”

I’ve never attained celebrity status, but I often wonder what it’s like. They say everyone gets their 15 minutes of fame, but frankly, that isn’t nearly enough. It could be wasted on some real bullshit. It could come when you happen to witness some “exciting” event. You may find yourself in the middle of a holdup or carjacking.

“Oh, look, there’s Sharon!” friends and family might say, as they watch the evening news. “They’re interviewing her about that drug bust over on Carson Street. Guess that was her 15 minutes. That’s it for her. Boy, that sucks.”

Sharon would reply, “Wait, that didn’t count! I want another chance!”

I’ve fantasized about my name being a household word. Remember when Kim Kardashian flashed that $4,000,000 ring on social media, alerting every criminal in the free world to the fact that it was there for the taking? Well, when she was gagged, tied up, and robbed in her French hotel room, celebrity status lost a bit of its luster for me. Kim thought her life was over and was shaken up for a long time. But it’s all a part of the superstar experience. And for me, the charm quickly reappeared when I found out that she is worth $100 million.

Sometimes I like the idea of fans approaching me and asking me for autographs or for photos with them. You know, these days, those in the cellphone generation ask celebrities for selfies. Such a request would make me feel good for the moment—the thought that these people like me enough to approach me and ask for my name on a piece of paper or to record my picture on an iPhone.

As an author, I have written my name on the inside covers of my books when asked, but it’s not the same thing. Being recognized and summoned for a signature is attention based on fame and notoriety, which is quite different.

Sometimes rock stars, rappers, and other music artists are asked by crazed female fans to sign their body parts. “Here,” a young girl might say, pulling down her top, “sign my breast.” I’ll never be asked to do that. But if it were to happen, and I did it, my wife would shove a dagger through my heart.

“James,” she would say. “Have you been signing women’s breasts?” I might gather the strength to nod. “I hate to do this, but…”

My heart would look like this:

Teaser 3

She would regret it afterwards.

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About the Author

Hi Everyone! Welcome to my Author Page! James Robinson, Jr. is so formal; call me Jim. People have also referred to me as James, Jay, Jayzer, and even Jimbo. (You can thank my middle daughter for the Jimbo thing. Kids have no respect for authority these days.) I’m a sixty-year-old father of three, thirty-plus daughters and grandfather of four who has been battered by gravity unmercilessly (see Fighting the Effects of Gravity). I was late getting into the writing game. Mainly because I was busy having children and trying to keep them fed.

I have written and published most of the books that you see here since 2012. My first book, Fighting the Effects of Gravity, was a long-term project that I started long before the digital revolution. My next book, Death of a Shrinking Violet, consists of 13 essays including the memorable entry, Damn You Sam’s Club! My latest work, a novella, is my first foray into the world of fiction. Along the way, I have managed to take home two Five-Star Readers’ Favorite Reviews and become an Indie Excellence and Readers’ Favorite Award finalist.

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