I wrote an essay for Seventeen magazine a million years ago [pre-'Toos, we're assuming—Ed.] and it turned up in fucking "Chicken Soup for the College Soul." Not only did the chicken soupers not have my permission (it's my copyright), I got nothing. I've appealed to them but apparently the LA Times company felt okay in selling my story, which was in their syndication (still my copyright and how the LA times got hold of the syndication rights is beyond me). My essay is now quoted in midwestern preacher's sermons every once in a while and pops up in google searches for my name. I'm an athiest.