H*cking finally

Lord save me from the overrated ramblings of mediocre white men.

What possessed Craig Ferguson to write this? Did he just want to add “writer” to his list of credits? Was he thumbing his nose at the literary world just to see what they would publish? Had he somehow deluded himself into thinking this was good?

In a weird way, reading this made me think of watching that new movie, The Front Runner, in that it made me question why it existed in the first place. I got nothing from it but ocular exhaustion from rolling my eyes. This was the only book this year I haven’t gotten on kindle and I was honestly embarrassed to be seen holding it. I abandoned it on the airplane not because I wanted someone else to find it but because I just wanted to be rid of it.

Ferguson is working with multiple characters across multiple timelines and he clearly think that’s clever because beyond that it’s just what can he write for shock value. Like there’s one character whose defining trait is that he’s ugly and overweight and then he goes on to get off on shitting on prostitutes and like Ferguson actually seems to be outraged with him when the madame writes a tell all? That is for reals in this book. I really wish I was kidding because that is a sentence I cannot take back.

Also someone cures cancer by jumping on a mattress. Sure.

Bingo Square: #CannonballBookClub

And that’s my card.