daviddavidkatzman's review

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Bizarro. What is it? Where is it? When is it and whycuz it? Who did what now and to whom? And most importantly, where is my bean sprout sandwich? Did I eat it? Will it return to haunt me in the near future?

I will attempt to answer none of these questions in this review. In fact, this review is currently out of order.


Some stuff about this book. It has 15 short stories in it. They are quick to read! Speedy! Fast is an important quality in the book realm. No one likes a book that overstays its welcome like your cousin Tambo or herpes.

There are some words in this book, which is good, good. Well done.

My foot! Ouch!

Do you like light beach reads? Do you like light beach reads about octopus-human sex and zombie-maggot sex? Then this is likely a book for you and the octopus-maggot-zombie who loves you. Mostly I thought this book was charming. Like you, in your bloomers. With zombie-maggot-octopoop up your butt. And the horse you rode in on just a little too vigorously for my taste.

Where was I? And where am I? I do not recognize this gelatinous sculpture of L. Ron Hubbard.

Do not read this expecting elaborate grammar trickery and proper punk; chew; a shun. Do not come here for high literature. Come here high for cliterature.

I have said too much. Did I give away the ending? Spoiler alert. This book has spoiled and should be sealed, hermetically, in a hermeneutic bag. In Herman's new tick ball bag. That would be, I think, the ball bag of a tick that Herman had recently purchased. Or adopted, perhaps, if he wasn't so speciesist.

1 star for the average consumer. 2 stars for the above-average consumer. 3 stars for the gender neutral consumer. 3 1/2 stars for bizarro fans. 4 stars for fuck you, get a job. 5 stars for the authors published here and their pets.