I'll give you more on this later on

Sometimes when they (you do so too know who they are. They are all those people who get paid eff-you money to write seventeen-word ‘blurbs’ on the back covers of books) say “an instant laugh-out-loud classic” and “joyful and jubilant”, what they really mean is “terribly, heart-rendingly sad” or “the kind of book that you should not read alone in a house because it’s the sort of book that makes you need your family and friends, unless you’re an agoraphobic. If you’re agoraphobic, you might want to read this book because it will make you realise how sad, small, and alone we all are as individuals, and it will make you leave your apartment/condo/house/hovel/shed/cave/quonset clutching your safety blanket/favourite dildo/genitals/little mouse friend you found inside a combine, and wearing a sheet/pillowcase/balaclava/toque/jacket/bucket over your head so that you don’t have to see the outside world, just so that you can go and be with people. Other people just like you. Okay, well not everyone travels around with a bucket on their head, clutching a dead mouse and hiding in quonsets. But you get my drift.

I think it’s unfair that they have a secret code. Particularly since that secret code is pretty much completely contrary to common sense. Someone who didn’t know that they had a secret code would pick up that book, and they’d read the back, and they’d say, “Oh! An instant laugh-out-loud classic! That’s just what I need to take my mind off the termite infestation we have that’s going to make us lose our house!” Or they might say “A jubilant, joyful romp! What a great way to get over the tragic loss of my life-partner in a horrible inflatible tube accident!” And do you know what would happen? They’d read the book, and they’d be sitting in their tub, and they’d say “What the poop? This isn’t a “joyful romp” at all! In fact, it’s kind of a bit of a melancholic trudge!” or “For the love of the Great Worm Spirit, I didn’t laugh out loud once!”

And then something terrible would happen. They’d have to go back to junior high school, or wear blue eyeshadow or something. Something really really terrible like that would happen and then they’d be all, “oh, you know what, book blurb writers? Go jump in a puddle.”






i make squee noises when you tell me stuff.

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