Didn’t manage to sell my book, but the wife sold off essentially her entire inventory, and I used some calligraphy to barter for goods. Then we got free bookcases on the way home, so hey. $60.
Our table, after the stampeding hordes made off with all our finished offensive cross-stitch. I embroidered “be a dick” on the Wheaton’s Law patch, which I found somewhat ironic.
My wife briefly abandoned me at the table.
In the Student activities building of an extremely progressive college.
With gigantic, framed cross-stitches of an uncomplimentary Saxon word for a latrine and/or female genitals, of a short tube for the conveyance of fluids, designatory terms for female dogs, and various other “helpful” things.
I instantly became the Gingery White Male Oppressor.
The sign deflected most of the filthy stares once people actually read it..
The highlight was the aged Yiddish woman who bought all the dirty words on the table and snapped up the rest as fast as we could sew them.