Thursday, February 23, 2006

Books For Sale

I have been clearing out my house and found these books. You may purchase them by contacting me directly.

In My Father's Shed, W. Howard Beecham:
Coffee-table book. A catalog of items found in the author's father's shed. Slow going in the first third, as each expired, once-used tube of epoxy resin is meticulously broken down into components (Beecham finds particular scandal in the notion that resins may on occasion be sold as hardeners and vice versa), but perverts forbidden from using a computer will find the author's fastidious nature serves them well when the bottom drawer of the tool cabinet is pried open.

The Horses Of London, Hackleford Brimstone VI:
A must-read for fans of rip-roaring space escapades. "Huck" Chuckbuckle, space privateer in the occasional employ of the Space Empire Of Javier, leads his merry band of space-swashbucklers, the Fighting Horses, across galaxies and through infinity in pursuit of their stolen ship, the London. Some have suggested that the Emperor Of Javier is a racist caricature of Falkland Islanders (the book was written at the height of that conflict); these people are not strictly wrong.

Triker Boys, Ralph "Kingo" Bilberg:
While it's intended as a scathing satire of Russian society, even the most diehard fans of good-natured humorist and would-be philosopher Ralph Bilberg (known to fans as "Kingo") give this embarrassingly misguided missive a wide berth. The problem lies not so much in Bilberg's woeful lack of research (a valid, if somewhat tired, complaint: as Kingo himself told an interviewer, "I don't read books; I write 'em!") as his utter ignorance in the area he intends to skewer. The misspelling of "Troika" in the title is the tip of an iceberg of inaccuracies that see the book's protagonist, Ivor Ivory, traverse "the length and breadth of Mother Russia, from gleaming Moscow in the East to shining New Zealand in the West," in search of his father, the Kaiser Of Russia. The notorious penultimate chapter, "A Hot Night In Mozambique", in which the Russian Capital is host to the country's annual Mardi-Gras, saw the book banned from many high schools: exactly how Bilberg came upon his perplexed notions of Russian anatomy is a mystery that perhaps should never be solved.

One Man And His Cannon, Ralph "Kingo" Bilberg:
On somewhat surer footing here, Kingo argues a solid case for Mutually Assured Destruction. Even the most fervent anti-Globalist will come away from Cannon singing the praises of sweatshops, the Spanish Inquisition and key-parties: such is Kingo's prowess as a storyteller, he manages to wind all these repugnant themes and so much more into an inarguable paen to man's right to enslave and demean man. Rumour has it Kingo wrote the book during his highly secretive marriage to Ayn Rand, who he later eulogised in the pages of Playboy with nauseating candour.

The Canon's Cannon, Stoker Ramsay:
Anglican secret agent Mcphee Brianard has seen some tough broads in his time, but none of them hold an incense stick to Sister Mary Impendus. The renegade Nun holds the key to Brianard's life, but she's not giving away anything until McPhee uses his unique abilities to help her disarm a mad impostor in the Vatican. Ramsay's talent for dense historical doco-fiction is evident here, as scandal, conspiracy and medical malpractice are worked into a heady narrative with a shocking twist you'll never guess. (The twist is that Sister Mary is actually the only living descendent of Jesus).

Interweb, Paul Kibblethorpe:
In the opening pages, the notion that entomology and the science of communications share deep-set, hitherto-unknown parallels is an intriguing one. By chapter 68, "Tunnel Web: How Kevin Mitnick Saved The Last Tarantella For Me", you'll be wishing Kibblethorpe would just go out and get laid.

The Apocalypticator
, Rodondo Rodondo:
Hailed as a Philip K. Dick for the new millenium in his native Mexico, a translation of Rodondo's prose has sadly never been treated to the time and effort it so richly warrants. While the book's original title translates literally to The Boy Who Saw God In The Light Bulb Filament, readers who attempt to navigate the slapdash translation sold under the title The Apocalypticator must contend with the likes of this excerpt, whose punctuation and probably typographical liberties have been kept intact:
Burgundy Starling removed her pants. Her ass was fucken hot. Harry Potter looked aty her ass and said "baby I gotta some stuff to shoot". and Then he pickd u[p his Shotgun and BOOM!

She fires the flamethrower. The eggs are
engulfed. One of the warriors lunges forward, a
living fireball. She blasts it in half with two
bursts from the M-41A.
RIPHarry Potter sayd to the Burgundy, 'Now Baby waht was that about some ice Cream?"

The Truth About Kittens And Ponies, Jim Raddenforth:
They're the same thing.

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