Keeping in mind that I’m not the type of person to start studying for a Friday midterm on the Monday before, I will absolutely get an early jump on my Christmas shopping chores. Two hours in early November is worth at least four in December. Anyone else who buys holiday gifts (which includes about 90 percent of secular America) knows this. So after checking eBay to see if the State of Alabama was selling that rock with the 10 Commandments on it (what a great idea to chip away at a state deficit!), I headed out to Interstate 8 to visit Mission Fashion Valley Center Hazard Plaza. (It’s all the same to me.)

I stumbled into Border’s Books & Music and bellied up to the front display where the newer and more popular titles could probably be found.

Nothing really piqued my interest, but I did notice a paperback by Dr. Laura Schlessinger, a character my friend told me earlier was the evil stepsister of Beezlebub. Apparently, my friend had been trapped on a family trip somewhere with his mother and was exposed to a healthy dosage of the good doctor.

I was curious about the hype. Her book was titled, “”10 Stupid Things Couples Do To Mess Up Their Relationships.”” Interesting. I turned the cover over to see if staples such as “”drinking more than an Irish family reunion”” or “”cheating with the family babysitter”” made her list. Alas, I was in for a real surprise.

The doctor was very technical in her diagnosis for a failed relationship. When she said “”stupid things,”” she meant it.

All 10 chapters were “”stupid”” in the literal sense. She wanted to make sure that her readers knew that obstacles like “”stupid egotism,”” “”stupid excuses”” and “”stupid pettiness”” (to name a few) would eventually lead to a “”stupid breakup,”” which, by the way, is also stupid.

One of the middle chapters was known as “”stupid happiness.”” Yeah, screw happiness: Just bring on the expensive jewelry, crying toddlers and the obligatory bed-and-breakfast weekends. Happiness must be overrated in a relationship; just ask Frank and Estelle Costanza in “”Seinfeld.””

I tossed back the book in disgust. Stupid happiness? Come on, who would read such piffle?

My question was immediately answered when, out of the corner of my eye, I spied a “”New York Times Best Seller”” label on the cover, right above stupid Dr. Laura’s stupid head.

No. This wasn’t true. There couldn’t be that many thirdgraders obsessed with the word “”stupid”” to boost this book’s sales to be the best-selling book in the country, could there?

My confidence in the American consumer had once again reached an all-time low, thinking that this book had sold more copies than any other book, when I saw that the book next to it ‹ “”Self Matters,”” by that tool Dr. Phil ‹ was a “”New York Times Best Seller”” as well. Hmm.

I roamed through the entire display to see that almost half of the books were dubbed best sellers. What the hell? How could there be this many best sellers? There’s only supposed to be one best, that’s why it’s the best. “”Best”” isn’t plural, “”best”” is the number one, the cream of the crop, the highest pinnacle one could reach, the supreme. The only things “”supreme”” about Dr. Phil are the chalupas he must stuff in those chipmunk cheeks of his.

I was jaded about the whole thing as soon as I saw that even “”The Wisdom of Menopause”” was a bestseller. In retrospect, I guess if you can write a whole book convincing people that fits of incoherent rage and hair-trigger tears are signs of wisdom, you deserve to be a best seller. But as I roamed the store, it became painfully clear that the New York Times was giving out these honors like A’s in a psychology course. Hell, all 16,045 of the “”Chicken Soup for the Soul”” titles were bestsellers.

John Madden, a man who tosses out comments like “”You can’t beat a good icicle”” on a regular basis during his NFL broadcasts, had his thought-provoking masterpiece “”Hey, Wait a Minute (I Wrote a Book),”” on the best seller list for more than six months. Confused, I decided it was time to cut my shopping day short. I left the store without making any purchases.

So where does the most-circulated book of all time in the western world figure into this? I went back to the bookstore and checked to see if any Holy Bibles were played up the same way. Sure enough, they didn’t have any bright lettering indicating they were best sellers.

I asked Kathy Park of the Times Co. if the Bible-makers were just being modest (pride is a sin after all). She assured me that the Bible had too many versions and publishers to be counted as just one book.

Bullshit, I say. That’s like telling me Guns N’ Roses isn’t the same because there’s been a lineup change here and there. Her answers didn’t satisfy me.

She also dodged my next question ‹ “”Was Madden’s book really a best seller?”” ‹ although I can’t blame her for not owning up to that one.