hopelessness is me

Paradise City is a new show produced by Sumerian Records and available on Amazon Prime. It is the sequel to the film American Satan, which I have not seen and do not intend to, though that may change if I am able to hold my breath long enough while diving deep into the sewer that is Paradise City, but I smoke a pack of cigarettes a day, sometimes more, so I promise nothing. I do love shit, though; I adore it. I derive the perfect amalgam of misery and pleasure from smothering myself in it.

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please toss this salad in the trash

I briefly mentioned the novel Salad Days by Charles Romalotti  (a “quasi-memoir” centered around the formative years of a young punk as he makes his debut and finds his place in the music scene) in my essay chronicling my harrowing journey through Sarah Palin’s memoir because, much like Going Rogue, it sucked. It stink, stank, stunk. Every page was teeming with shinfo [shitty information that is not needed], including-but-not-limited-to the most arbitrary, nonsensical conversations that hadn’t an ounce of relevance to the scene the author set (one character making a rather visceral inquiry regarding another’s plans for their future somehow resulted in a three-page-long conversation about Star Wars… Was it supposed to be funny? Character building? Did I miss something?) and lengthy, unnecessary descriptions of the fuckin’ opening band at a rock show. 

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