The footnote updated! A new Just the Right Bullets, a new Letters from Heck, Pure Lard, Reality is What You Make It and Anti-Thoughts. I love all these.
But also, as a surprise… Hooray for Comics: The Legion of Super-Bastards – No, seriously.
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So sometimes I read reviews of books I already have while on the phone. It’s something Amazon is really good for. Why would I do this? It makes me laugh! Here is today’s gem, and man I love it so… wait for the end…
American culture at the end of the 20th Century is a sewer of moral depravity, illogic, unreason, and poisonous ideological sludge, all flowing in a great, toxic river toward an inevitable cataract plunging down a bottomless abyss. One of the turds in this sewer is accelerating faster than all the others toward that pit, and proclaiming, as it outdistances the other blobs of filth, that it is superior to them all. This turd of which I speak is Mr. Robert Anton Wilson, and if his books have any value it can only be that they are perfect specimens of the most diseased and evil literary mind the 20th century could hope to offer. What makes Wilson’s books so toxic is that they appeal to young, semi-intelligent people who are dissatisfied with the status quo and looking for a different, better way to live. Wilson’s books have only one message: Reality doesn’t exist, and you sollipsistically create your own reality. Wilson degrades Man continuously by comparing human behavior to that of apes, and endorses a lifestyle of irrational hedonism and occult mysticism. All of this filth is served up with a contemptuous snicker, as if Wilson finds the collapse of Western Civilization nothing more than a dirty joke. To the misinformed, this appears profound and clever, but it is merely another case of a literary charlatan muddying the waters to make them appear deep. Wilson has nothing to offer the searching mind. For those readers who truly wish to rise out of the sewer of today’s sick society, I urge you to study the philosophy of Objectivism, as outlined by Ms. Ayn Rand in her novel Atlas Shrugged.
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In other news: The Queen’s gynecologist died. Yep, the Royal OB/GYN kicked the bucket. He was 82. Best part? His last name was Pinker. Enjoy.