I know that many of you don’t appreciate, or understand, some of the sacrifices I make for y’all… like reading Ron Jaeger’s fetid pool of steaming diarrhetic feces “The Secret of the Bermuda Triangle – The Adventures of Troy as Told by Him” or, as it states on the spine “The Great American Adventure Novel”.
You don’t understand why I subject myself to things like that, hurling my mind out to the edges of truly goat-blowingly hideous, pathetic writing and reporting back what I find there.
It’s kinda the same thing as when I watch SyFy Channel movies and report on them…
These are the sacrifices I make for y’all, because deep down, I love all you grimy little rascals.
But I can’t continue with Jaeger’s book – the goddamn thing is just too fucking painful to read. C’mon people, this book makes Baby Jesus cry… and shoot lightning out his ass… spin his head 360 degrees… puke Skittles… rap about growing up in rural poverty in Israel, in a bad Jamaican accent.
There are books that justify every bit of criticism self-publishing has ever garnered – this one goes beyond that. Copies of this book, Atari 2600 cartridges of the execrable “E.T. – The Video Game”, cockroaches… maybe Michael Bay – these will survive the apocalypse.
If we beamed the text of this book into space, alien civilizations would come a-runnin’… to cleanse the galaxy of us. I’m talking planetary Armageddon, just because of one lame-ass book.
So I’ve stopped. I’m returning it to the man I borrowed it from. I give in. I made it through ten chapters, barely 47 pages in, and my own brain rebelled, refusing to focus on any words found between those covers.
My brain saved what little sanity I have left.
This book may be proof that the mind-blasting blasphemies of H.P. Lovecraft were not solely of his imagination.
Listening to: the sounds of morning
Mood: relieved to still be alive and somewhat sane