Snappy like Oscar Wilde, this text is an effective instance of affair literature. It may not feature interlacing the progress of the liaison with the Snappy like Oscar Wilde, this text is an effective instance of affair literature. It may not feature interlacing the progress of the liaison with the 1848 revolution or the Soviet invasion of Prague, but it focuses clearly on the anxieties of late cold war domesticity.
The narrator has some arrière-garde ideas (e.g., "This reminded me of those feminists who are always claiming that male domination is not the natural state because there's one tribe in New Guinea where the men lie around weaving and the women hunt bears."), but she's charming otherwise. The roman à clef connections are not very interesting to me, but I can see how they draw interest, considering the persons involved. If the text stands for a proposition, it's something like "Let's face it: everyone is the one person on earth you shouldn't get involved with."...more
Reasonably amusing. I imagine this must capture a certain amount of Thatcherite instability. The narrator’s family is hit hard economically and spiralReasonably amusing. I imagine this must capture a certain amount of Thatcherite instability. The narrator’s family is hit hard economically and spirals into predictable domestic difficulty. In the midst of his family coming unglued, he decides to become an intellectual. His reading notes throughout are thus the highlight for me, such as
March 6 […] Used my father’s library tickets to get War and Peace out. I have lost my own. […]
March 7 […] Finished War and Peace. It was quite good.
By book's end, he manages to move from his parent’s Toryism to a statement that “I am a committed radical. I am against nearly everything.” I'm not sure if that's meant to be nihilistic or anarchistic or what. Apparently these were best selling books in the UK in the 80s....more
wherein the diarist makes astute observations on other people's flatulence.wherein the diarist makes astute observations on other people's flatulence....more
A good example of why one must look into translations prior to reading. I grabbed by chance the first translation of Svejk into English, by Paul SelveA good example of why one must look into translations prior to reading. I grabbed by chance the first translation of Svejk into English, by Paul Selver. I don't know the underlying language, so I can't say anything about the quality. However, it is abridged and bowdlerized--so not the edition to be preferred. More recent publishers have used a complete translation by Cecil Parrott, who had been a diplomat from the UK to Prague; there's also apparently a relatively new translation by a Czech ex-pat in the US, Zdenek Sadlon.
The text is sufficiently great to warrant reading all three translations--but if one can only read one, this first English version is not it, unless one needs it to be PG. Its basic notion--the undecidable question of whether Svejk is an imbecile or a malingerer--continues throughout the narrative. That this ultimate form of speaking truth to power may in fact lack candor is fantastic, an illustration of the point that art uses lies to tell the truth, but here embodied in the praxis of resistance. Very comical, very much on point antiwar satire, a must for lefty libraries. It's advised to obtain a version with the Lada illustrations--they are iconic....more
Develops Solnit's signature polemic into effective internet-style captions of classical paintings. Witty and cool.Develops Solnit's signature polemic into effective internet-style captions of classical paintings. Witty and cool....more
Capable satire of the asclepian arts, complete with the revelation of an otherwise sotto voce set of agambenian rules, as supplied by memorable deuterCapable satire of the asclepian arts, complete with the revelation of an otherwise sotto voce set of agambenian rules, as supplied by memorable deuteragonist....more
Obviously just a satiric religion--similar to pastafarianism but not as inherently silly as alleging an inverse proportion of pirates to climate changObviously just a satiric religion--similar to pastafarianism but not as inherently silly as alleging an inverse proportion of pirates to climate change or prophesying that one might be touched by the FSM's noodly appendage (still plenty silly however).
And yet there's a nucleus of Awesome here in the notion of Eris as the central deity, and that the cosmos is chaos worked over by contrary erisian and anerisian principles and forces. The philosophic core is difficult to dispute:
We look at the world through windows on which have been drawn grids (concepts). Different philosophies use different grids. A culture is a group of people with rather similar grids. Through a window we view chaos, and relate it to the points on our grid, and thereby understand it. The ORDER is in the GRID. That is the Aneristic Principle.
Western philosophy is traditionally concerned with contrasting one grid with another grid, and amending grids in hopes of finding a perfect one that will account for all reality and will, hence, (say unenlightened westerners) be True.
This is illusory; it is what we Erisians call the ANERISTIC ILLUSION. Some grids can be more useful than others, some more beautiful than others, some more pleasant than others, etc., but none can be more True than any other.
[...]
Reality is the original Rorschach.
That's just lovely, and consistent with basic ideology theory as well as the Anglo-American internal critique of empiricism. It furthermore makes manifest the heraclitean polemos, strife, as our ontological principle. That's great--but does it likewise make the heideggerian polemos central? Is the principle of differentiation itself apotheosized?
Another great moment is the answer to dogmatic heresiology:
Should you find that your own revelations of The Goddess become substantially different than the revelations of Mal-2, then perhaps The Goddess has plans for you as an Episkopos, and you might consider creating your own sect from scratch, unhindered. Episkoposes are not competing with each other, and they are all POEE Priests anyway (as soon as I locate them). The point is that Episkopos are developing separate paths to the Erisian mountain top.
I wish that more lefties had this sort of confidence that other interlocutors were in good faith. On the basis of these two passages, I think I must have always been a crypto-Erisian. Likely this can be made consistent with the stoic-buddhist-marxist ideas that I've come to adore.
Much of the internal artwork is clever, and it might be best thought of as an extended artistic intervention, which is how the authors thought of it eventually. Their symbol, two arrows coming together at the point, to signify strife, is beyond slick....more
I like to think of Old Comedy as something like Monty Python and New Comedy as more Three's Company. Aristophanes is our best evidence of the former tI like to think of Old Comedy as something like Monty Python and New Comedy as more Three's Company. Aristophanes is our best evidence of the former type: emphasis on topical political debate, direct attacks on persons in the polis, an uncensored scatological and sexual interest, handling of unreal and mythological settings and characters.
The most abiding interest here is protest against the Peloponnesian War, which shows up in all eleven plays in one way or another. Other interests are the distribution of wealth (Ecclesiazusae and Plutus), developments in arts & learning (Clouds and Frogs), law (Wasps), gender and the rights of women (Thesmophoriazusae, Lysistrata, Ecclesiazusae), and the establishment of a utopia of sorts (Birds).
Plenty might be said about these texts individually. Aristophanes is kinda a crotchety jerk: too pious, too patriotic, too intolerant of difference. He has a roll call of standard victims to abuse, such as cowards in battle, political informants, demagogues, other playwrights, philosophers and rhetoricians, persons of whose sexual practices he disapproves, stereotypical foreigners, and so on.
One of the most salient things for me--and this occurs while reading Plato, too--is the relentless reference to texts that no longer exist--these plays are in a sense an inventory of loss, so much that was burned in the warfare against which Aristophanes lodged his unsuccessful protests, whether it was the Spartans or the Persians or the Romans or the Christians or the Nazis. Whoever burned up all the ancient works--fuck those guys....more
Am thinking that this might’ve made a really snappy essay. Author notes Harry Frankfurt’s text On Bullshit and identifies his own argument as lying “wAm thinking that this might’ve made a really snappy essay. Author notes Harry Frankfurt’s text On Bullshit and identifies his own argument as lying “within this distinguished line of research” (9), which demonstrates a reasonable sense of humor.
The basic definition of the term is a person who “allows himself to enjoy special advantages and does so systematically,” “out of an entrenched sense of entitlement,” and “is immunized by his sense of entitlement against the complaints of other people” (5), which strikes me as a deontological rationale. This character is marked out by a profound illiberalism, as “the asshole refuses to listen to our legitimate complaints and so he poses a challenge to the idea that we are each to be recognized as moral equals” (4).
This character is furthermore placed on a continuum insofar as “we are quite justified in removing a murderer or a rapist or a tyrant from society by force,” as “the material costs such people impose upon others are enormous and often beyond repair”; however the cost of assholes, “a longer wait in line, a snide remark, a ruined afternoon—are often by comparison moderate” (11). Here, if we follow this utilitarian rationale, we need to quantify the aggregate effects of all the unremoved assholes out there to determine if the cumulative incremental externalities that they impose are worse than the impositions of the removable villains aforesaid. (I wager that the everyday assholes weigh much more heavily; can we commence shooting jaywalkers and parking violators and cinema cellphone users now?)
Just to round out the traditional ethical approaches, we then see that “we are looking for a stable trait of character, or type of person—a vice rather than a particular act” (8)—that is, this line of inquiry relies upon an aretaic ethics.
Aptly sums up our dear friend Ayn Rand with “As his prominence declines, instead of becoming increasingly uncertain about his claim to attention, he becomes increasingly concerned about the deteriorating state of his profession” (17), which is the normal objectivist Dunning-Krugery manner of assessing anything that they don’t understand.
Several chapters constitute a theophrastian typology, a “teeming asshole ecosystem” (33), to wit: the boor is “willfully insensitive to normal boundaries of courtesy or respect” (37); the smug person is “comfortable in his sense that others are inferior and indeed presumes that others should well expect him to behave as their better” (39); the boss is Lumbergh in Office Space (43); and so on. It gets political quickly: Henry VIII, Bush the Younger; Rockefeller; et al. Steve Jobs is a ‘corporate asshole,’ believing that he can use parking spots reserved for disabled drivers (53). He tries to include figures from the left, such as Nader as a “self-aggrandizer” in the 2000 election (59), endorsing thereby the philistine thesis that Nader cost Gore the presidency. Pre-presidency Trump comes in as a self-aggrandizer (67). There's a special type in “cable news asshole,” which is apparently inclusive of misanthropic rightwingers such as O’Reilly as well as pissed off progressives such as Olbermann. (Colbert is a “faux blowhard” (68).) Picasso and Hemingway are held out as assholes, too (77).
The section on bankers (78-87) indicates the somewhat ephemeral concern here, as this was written soon after the 2008 financial crisis. The entire section of typology reads less like a rigorous philosophical examination of the concept (except as a wittgensteinian exemplification of the language involved, perhaps (see 37), eschewing very specifically platonist essential definition (see 29)) and more like a topical reflection on current events in mass culture. Nothing wrong with that, but that brings these sections in as some sort of cultural commentary.
There’s also a lengthy section on ‘Asshole Capitalism’ (144 ff.), which argues that “the proliferation of assholes suggests that Marx was wrong: capitalism is unstable but can give way to something worse” (148), with asshole capitalism marking out an “irreversible decline.” This means that Hobbes trumps Marx, apparently. For the record, Marx is not necessarily wrong on this point, having noted that the outcome of class struggle is either socialism or barbarism—the “mutual ruin of the contending classes” from the Manifesto, which is an important clause that socialists often mumble over in the prediction of future awesomeness. (Despite this, author ultimately endorses Rousseau over Hobbes.) There is a sense that capitalism is assholish because of the imperatives of liberal market participation, so there's that.
Much overlap with DSM-V diagnoses, such as personality disorders and psychopathy—not sure if that is at all useful, in terms of management of mental disease and disorder. These should not be terms of opprobrium, I don’t think. On the other hand, it may well be that assholism is some sort of mental disorder requiring sympathy?
One section is self-help (119 ff.), regarding how to manage encounters with persons described, supra. Much of this is pedestrian, though there is a durkheimian note that there is a positive role for social deviancy, helping to “rally the cooperative troops” (139)—the hypothesis is that walking zones of anomie assist normal persons in coalescing around acceptable behavior when the limits are imprecise—the assholes are accordingly not total deviants, but rather “deviants in the gray.”
Anyway, I’d leave off with the conclusion that these persons are lumpenized antisocial nihilists; we should subject them therefore to rehabilitation, and, were that to fail, enforce the writ de haeretico comburendo....more
Similar to the Superior Person’s Book of Words insofar as it attempts to recover and popularize cool words. Contains etymologies, quotations of usage,Similar to the Superior Person’s Book of Words insofar as it attempts to recover and popularize cool words. Contains etymologies, quotations of usage, and other bits regarding ancient terms long fallen into desuetude.
Recommended for astrologamages, rattoners, and fribblers. ...more
Aside from being misanthropically rightwing, this text is completely contingent upon various untenable principles of differentiation (sex, gender, & sAside from being misanthropically rightwing, this text is completely contingent upon various untenable principles of differentiation (sex, gender, & sequellae).
Something like a theophrastian typology here, perhaps corrupted by cynical wit, but deploying then-current stock character stereotypes regarding ‘American [sic] males [sic].’
Instability in its deployment of ‘class,’ which does not appear to turn upon the well-known theories (Marx, Weber, Durkheim), but is rather a vague and conceptually weak term of opprobrium, lacking rigor. Some silly commentary on ‘feminism’ as author apparently understood it, or rather misunderstood it.
That said, comical at times, such as when describing sex & dating:
With a talent for partitioning unrivaled since the Congress of Vienna, the fifties coed divided herself into a rigidly classified set of love-play areas known as Above the Waist, Below the Waist, There, and that ultimate form of petting called Inside Me. To make matters even more complicated, there were the subcategories of Over the Clothes, Under the Clothes, Naked in the Front Seat, and Naked in the Back Seat. (14)
Very complicated indeed, considering the generalized subcategory in my experience has by contrast been let’s fuck.
Recommended for those who read Henry James when horny, readers scared to death of semen, and misogynists with an inability to bring off a bawdy remark with elan and affection....more
Nutshell: intellectual property infringement apocalypse averted through clever use of communism.
I was immediately put off this text because it has an Nutshell: intellectual property infringement apocalypse averted through clever use of communism.
I was immediately put off this text because it has an attorney narrator, who apparently works in intellectual property litigation, but who likewise has the nuts to refer to infringement as ‘piracy’ (13), which is of course an awful, deplorable lay term that gets substituted in for infringement by rights holders who are typically sophisticated litigants and should accordingly know way better.
Basic definition of piracy is robbery on the high seas. The weaker version is that IP infringement is said to be theft; larceny at common law was however, as everyone knows, asportation with the intent to deprive permanently. Copyright infringement by contrast is use of copyrighted works without permission. Applying the basic Blockburger rule, we see that there is absolutely no overlap whatsoever between infringement and theft or between infringement and piracy, FFS.
So fuck you laypersons who say ‘piracy’ instead of ‘infringement.’
Anyway, some decent satire on occasion of the recording industry, lawyers, and leftwing extraterrestrials. ...more
One of the great satires. Set in New Orleans, “famous for its gamblers, prostitutes, exhibitionists, anti-Christs, alcoholics, sodomites, drug addictsOne of the great satires. Set in New Orleans, “famous for its gamblers, prostitutes, exhibitionists, anti-Christs, alcoholics, sodomites, drug addicts, fetishists, onanists, pornographers, frauds, jades, litterbugs, and lesbians, all of whom are only too well protected by graft” (3), which is of course why I will never fucking leave this city. Opens with an epigraph situating New Orleans in a “homogenous, though interrupted, sea” consisting of the Mediterranean, Caribbean, and the Gulf of Mexico (ix), “in the orbit of a Hellenistic world that never touched the North Atlantic.” And, as the text informs us, “outside of the city limits, the heart of darkness, the true wasteland begins” (9).
Principal protagonist is Ignatius J. Reilly, a pre-modern theistic illiberal trapped in liberal secular modernity, for whom “possession of anything new or expensive only reflected a person’s lack of theology and geometry” (1). By contrast, his modest and slightly gross “outfit was acceptable by any theological and geometrical standards, however abstruse, and suggested a rich inner life” (id.), indicating that vestimentum is a signifier for the underlying signified, the anima. IJR is basically Alasdair MacIntyre, author of After Virtue: “Veneration of Mark Twain is one of the roots of our current intellectual stalemate” (41). IJR or MacIntyre: “I lack some particular perversion which today’s employer is seeking” (137)?
The “theology & geometry” bit is a common refrain, and likely deserves some attention (spoilering over an obscure & lengthy etymological excursus!): (view spoiler)[The former term is easy enough, as a premodernist may reasonably be attracted to theism as a counterweight to liberalism’s melting of solids into air. Geometry, however? Online Etymology Dictionary tells us:
early 14c., also gemetrie, gemetry, from Old French geometrie (12c., Modern French géométrie), from Latin geometria, from Greek geometria "measurement of earth or land; geometry," from comb. form of ge "earth, land" (see Gaia) + -metria (see -metry).
Gaia:
Earth as a goddess, from Greek Gaia, spouse of Uranus, mother of the Titans, personification of gaia "earth" (as opposed to heaven), "land" (as opposed to sea), "a land, country, soil;" it is a collateral form of ge (Dorian ga) "earth," which is of unknown origin and perhaps from a pre-Indo-European language of Greece.
And of course –metry, which refers back to meter:
also metre, unit of length, 1797, from French mètre (18c.), from Greek metron "measure," from PIE root *me- (2) "to measure" (cognates: Greek metra "lot, portion," Sanskrit mati "measures," matra "measure," Avestan, Old Persian ma-, Latin metri "to measure").
Developed by French Academy of Sciences for system of weights and measures based on a decimal system originated 1670 by French clergyman Gabriel Mouton. Originally intended to be one ten-millionth of the length of a quadrant of the meridian.
So, definitely an interest in taking the measure of the earth itself, with a curious paganism to the etymology. ‘Measure’ is of course theological: “with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again” (Matthew 7:2, KJV). We might therefore think of theology’s central task as the measurement of the Earth. (hide spoiler)] Mene Mene Tekel Upharsin, I suppose.
IJR is “an anachronism” (51), and is “writing a lengthy indictment against our century” (5)—and his writings, presented throughout the novel, are the best parts of the text. A sample: “After a period in which the western world had enjoyed order, tranquility, unity, and oneness with its True God and Trinity, there appeared winds of change, which spelled evil days ahead” (24). This religious sincerity is however insufficient to prevent IJR from adopting the paganism inherent in Boethian mysticism: “As a medievalist, Ignatius believed in the rota Fortunae, or wheel of fortune, a central concept in De Consolatione Philosophiae, the philosophical work that had laid the foundation for medieval thought” (25). I.e., “a blind goddess spins us on a wheel” (26). Another: a co-worker is described as a “medusa of capitalism” (64). So, along with the etymology, supra, something of a conceptual inconsistency in his theism.
But nevermind the theological discord, IJR has a more pressing practical diremption:
“Please go away!" Ignatius screamed. “You’re shattering my religious ecstasy!”
Bouncing up and down on his side vigorously, Ignatius sensed a belch rising in his throat, but when he expectantly opened his mouth he emitted only a small burp. Still, bouncing had some psychological effect. Ignatius touched the small erection that was pointing downward into the sheet, held it, and lay still trying to decide what to do. [...] he thought somewhat sadly that after eighteen years with his hobby it become merely a mechanical physical act stripped of the flights of fancy and invention that he had once been able to bring to it. At one time he had almost developed it into an art form, practicing the hobby with the skill and fervor of an artist and philosopher, a scholar and gentleman. (26)
He “manipulated and concentrated. At last a vision appeared, the familiar figure of the large and devoted collie that had been his pet” (26-27), which means that IJR masturbates to the thought of a dog. Right? Right?
IJR is good, despite the foregoing, at making his objections known, which is one of the principal sources of humor: “I can’t possibly drink that […] it’s an abomination” (8); “Canned food is a perversion” (18); “Goodness knows what degenerate uses he will find for that hat” (21); and so on. IJR demands that “as a mother, you should be interested in the traumas that have created my worldview” (16) (cf. RSB, of course!). The connection between the traumas and the objections is patent insofar as IJR actively seeks out the traumas in order to make the objections, such as watching television: “What an egregious insult to good taste”; “Do I believe the total perversion that I am witnessing?”; “The children on that program should all be gassed” (34-35). It ends with a peroration familiar to readers of Griffin, Paxton, Neumann, & Lemkin:
‘The ironic thing about that program,’ Ignatius was saying […], ‘is that it is supposed to be an exemplum to the youth of our nation. I would very much like to know what the Founding Fathers would say if they could see these children being debauched to further the cause of Clearasil. However, I always suspected that democracy would come to this […] A firm rule must be imposed on our nation before it destroys itself. The United States needs some theology and geometry, some taste and decency. I suspect that we are teetering on the edge of the abyss.' (36)
Very much dantean in his insistence “in my private apocalypse, he will be impaled upon his own nightstick” (42).
He is thoroughly retrograde, failing to support the then current pope, as “he does not fit my concept of a good, authoritarian Pope. Actually, I am opposed to the relativism of modern Catholicism quite violently” (44), which must be a reference to the Second Vatican Council, ongoing at the time of the novel’s setting, as evidenced by the films that IJR goes to see. Regarding the films, there is a baudrillardian interest here, in how IJR wanted to “go out to a movie and get more out of life” (47).
A bit annoying, the focus on grotesque realism, which forefronts IJR’s corpulence as a negative attribute worthy of ridicule. So that’s demerits. The grotesque realism is however very precise, as his ‘pyloric valve’ is often the subject of violent convulsions, rendering him unable to return to work. IJR is very bad with biology, proclaiming, for instance, over a trifle “I am deteriorating into a state of total anxiety” (120); the bad diagnoses are kinda a metaphor for the silliness of old school degeneracy theory. And he does advocate old school degeneracy theory: “Only degenerates go touring. Personally I have been out of the city only once. […] Outside the city limits there are many horrors” (185) (as a fellow New Orleanian, I concur in that last).
Great secondary cast. Good portraiture of New Orleans. Narrative may in fact be picaresque, as jobless university graduate is forced to find employment to pay for his mother’s motor vehicle accident damages. (view spoiler)[Despite his illiberalism, he ends up organizing an abortive strike on behalf of segregated workers and starts a political party to advance the interests of homosexuals, inter alia. (hide spoiler)] Anyway, I laugh audibly every time offended IJR proclaims an unlikely injury and threatens to contact his attorney, or every time he exclaims Oh my God! in horror at some alleged perversion. Great stuff, this archaeology of anti-modernism. Bonus points insofar as IJR’s conception was similar to Tristram Shandy’s: “Mrs. Reilly remembered the horrible night that she and Mr. Reilly had gone to the Prytania to see Clark Gable and Jean Harlow in Red Dust. In the heat and confusion that had followed their return home, nice Mr. Reilly had tried one of his indirect approaches, and Ignatius was conceived” (79). Confirmed: “Please blow your smoke elsewhere. My respiratory system, unfortunately, is below par. I suspect that I am the result of a particularly weak conception on the part of my father. His sperm was probably emitted in a rather offhand manner” (261). (the irony there is that there's probably some degeneracy theory explanation for IJR's ill conception, as perhaps described in Krafft-Ebing or in The Unfit).
The satire does not merely go to premodern theistic illiberals, but also to postmodern bourgeois liberals, who have accused IJR of being a communist at times. IJR’s riposte:
‘Oh my God! […] Every day I am subjected to a McCarthyite witchhunt in this crumbling building. No! I told you before I am not a fellow traveler. […] Do you think that I want to live in a communal society […] What I want is a good, strong monarchy with a tasteful and decent king who has some knowledge of theology and geometry and to cultivate a Rich Inner Life.' (187)
The undecidability between communism and monarchism for dumbasses in the US is lolarious. (IJR on liberalism, NB: “This liberal doxy must be impaled upon the member of a particularly large stallion” (189).) His premodernism is thorough: “‘They would try to make me into a moron who liked television and new cars and frozen food. Don’t you understand? Psychiatry is worse than communism. I refuse to be brainwashed. I won’t be a robot!” (271). All that is solid melts into air, yo: “The only problem those people have anyway is that they don’t like new cars and hair sprays. That’s why they are put away. They make the other members of society fearful. Every asylum in this nation is filled with poor souls who simply cannot stand lanolin, cellophane, plastic, television, and subdivisions” (id.).
IJR’s reading list: “Begin with the late Romans, including Boethius, of course. Then you should dip rather extensively into early Medieval. You may skip the Renaissance and the Enlightenment. That is mostly dangerous propaganda. Now that I think of it, you had better skip the Romantics and the Victorians, too. For the contemporary period, you should study some selected comic books” (226).
Recommended for human bodies that produce certain odors which we tend to forget in this age of deodorants and other perversions, those whose valve is subject to vicissitudes which may force them to lie abed on certain days, and the avenging swords of taste and decency.
Oh my God! Stop your appalling obscenity and read this book....more
what must have seemed like a great idea at first turns out to be almost irredeemably tedious by the end, with too much detail paid to, say, the best wwhat must have seemed like a great idea at first turns out to be almost irredeemably tedious by the end, with too much detail paid to, say, the best weapons for splitting a human skull. It could've been good menippean satire, but just descended into a weird neo-hobbesian travaux preparatoires....more
Generally comical, and, far be it from me to criticize someone else’s parenting technique, but I can’t say that I’d endGnomics by Coarse Old Bastard.
Generally comical, and, far be it from me to criticize someone else’s parenting technique, but I can’t say that I’d endorse the methods disclosed here. ...more
very humorous. likely in need of an update because most of the statements recorded in the volume are from his first campaign for president, whereas thvery humorous. likely in need of an update because most of the statements recorded in the volume are from his first campaign for president, whereas the eight years of the presidency should be recognized as a virtually inexhaustible supply....more
Hit and miss contributions. Gotta love Cecil Fucking Fuckwad and the fact that smoking is a cure for the narrator's OCD, though.Hit and miss contributions. Gotta love Cecil Fucking Fuckwad and the fact that smoking is a cure for the narrator's OCD, though....more
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