Archive for the ‘2 Star Reviews’ Category

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2 of 5 Prelude-To-Hoseshit Stars – The One Path by Larry S. Gerovac.

You know what really pisses me off? When a book is just a prelude to a series. There’s no beginning, middle, and end to this book. It’s just the beginning. And there’s no fucking conclusion whatsoever. It’s bullshit, is what it is.

This book is the story of Thomas, God’s last prophet. He’s just some average jackass. He’s not even particularly religious. But one of God’s angels came to him in a vision, and told him to lead the people to victory. To fight the battle with the demons who seek to destroy the world.

So Thomas wakes from his vision and says, “Alrighty then…” And takes off to Rome, to see the Pope. I’m not sure why he set out to seek the Pope’s wisdom. I mean Thomas isn’t even Catholic. And it’s not like the Pope can tell him anything that God’s angels can’t. Plus, the Pope’s people are probably just gonna think Thomas is bat-shit insane.

But Thomas gets lucky. He bumps into a nun who listens to his story. Because she’s an old lady who’s not playing with a full deck of cards. Thomas spouts some religious text to her, and she immediately believes him to be God’s last prophet. So she fast-tracks him to see the Pope.

Once Thomas finally gets to meet His Holiness, the Pope bashes Thomas upside the head with a staff. Because, apparently that’s how you tell if someone is a demon, or just plain human. Because demons heal faster. And Thomas just stood there with a stupid look on his face, as blood dribbled down his face.

“Well, shit…” the Pope said. “I guess you’re not a demon after all.” And then they have a long pointless conversation. Because the whole meeting was pointless. There’s nothing the Pope can tell you that’s gonna help with anything, Thomas. He’s just a man, like you.

Thomas goes off to fight the good fight against the demons with his trusty sidekick, Myrrh. Because all religious crusaders need their own personal computer hacker, apparently. Oh yea, and Myrrh can channel angels and demons and stuff. And he can tell when things are real, or imaginary. Quite the useful sidekick.

And then there’s the whole antichrist thing. The devil impregnated some young girl to birth his hellspawn, but he doesn’t do it the fun way. He doesn’t actually fuck her. No, that’d be cool. We can’t have that. No, he just takes her to his evil lab and impregnated her with some evil plasma super-sperm, or something. With a fucking needle and a petri dish. No dick required. Man, some demons just don’t know how to party.

And then the book ends. Okay, not right there, but soon after the hell-spawn is born. It just ends. Thomas and his sidekick aren’t any closer to stopping the evil demons, and God finally decides that Thomas is a useless fuckstick. The end.

Seriously? Come on, man. This is fucking bullshit. It’s like just as the book was finally getting interesting, it ends. I was bored out of my mind, until the last few chapters. I actually got interested in the story. And then it ends on a motherfucking cliffhanger.

I know I’ve been on kind of a 2 star rampage lately. But it’s not my fault. Authors keep sending me these bullshit books, and it’s pissing me off. Somebody please send me a good book to read. I’m really getting sick and tired of reading horseshit.

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2 of 5 Fucking-Pointless Stars – Worse than Senseless Things by J. Battle.

I was bored out of my mind while reading this book. It’s not funny. It’s not exciting. It’s just an endless battle scene, told from several different perspectives. To me, this just made the plot convoluted as fuck.

I do respect the amount of work that went into this book. The world-building was amazing. All the different alien races and planets were fascinating. But what were all these aliens doing? Just wandering around their planet with their token human. Not doing anything interesting at all.

Awesome world-building does not mean there’s going to be a good story to go with it. Unfortunately for this book, the world-building was all it had. The story was weak. The characters were stupid and cardboard. And the endless space battles were fucking pointless.

When a character says, “Sir, we’ve just lost 78 more ships, sir!” Okay, big fucking deal. Why’d you lose those ships? Where’s the conflict? What can you do about it? The fleet was constantly losing ships, and nobody ever did anything about it. So how am I supposed to care? Conflict without any meaning is just empty conflict. It’s fucking useless.

This book is about an intergalactic war. Everyone is fighting, for whatever reason. Planets, and entire civilizations are being destroyed. Because, reasons. It really is fucking pointless.

I had to drag myself, kicking and screaming, to the end of this book. I really couldn’t stand it. I just wanted it to be over. Just nuke the whole fucking galaxy, and be done with it. Because I can’t fucking take it any more.

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2 of 5 Wasted-Talent Stars – The Whisperer by Ioanna Carlsen.

I don’t know what the fuck the cover of this book is supposed to represent. But I have to assume it’s an abstract portrait of the author’s dog, or something. Because more than half the poems in this book are about a dog. A fucking dog.

Look, I don’t fucking care about your goddamn dog, okay? And I don’t care about the swan in the lake. Or how the fire crackles in the motherfucking hearth. Who gives a shit? It’s fucking stupid.

Good poetry isn’t about things. It’s about you, the author. Go ahead and write a fucking poem about a goddamn swan if you want, but don’t tell me about the swan. Tell me about how the swan makes you feel. How it reminds you of your childhood. Or some such bullshit.

The problem with the poems in this book is the lack of feeling, or emotion of any kind. It made me feel nothing. I really think it’s because the author chose to write about things, instead of herself, or her relationships. Because what makes a poem great is the emotion that you put on the page. That’s what makes it real.

I do believe that this poet has talent. I just think it’s wasted on this collection. I think that if she put more of herself into her poetry, it would be much better. It might actually make me feel something.

Unless of course, she’s a fucking psychopath, who actually has no feelings. That would explain a lot. Because even the poems that I thought might be about her used pronouns other than ‘me’ or ‘I’. So it’s all a fucking mystery.

But that mystery didn’t make it alluring. It just pissed me off. I kept screaming as I was reading this on the shitter… “Tell me how you really feel, goddamnit!” But it was all for nothing. Because in the end, none of Ioanna’s feelings were on the page. Just more drivel.

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2 of 5 Hardcore-Anal Stars – Breakup by Grace Kagni.

I fucking hated this book. It’s filled with so much bullshit romance garbage, I wanted to puke. That is, until I came (heh, I came) across the hardcore anal sex. Then, I was all like, hmmmmm… I could get into this book.

Because it seemed like the sex scenes were not written for women. They must have been written for men. Because, come on… How many women fantasize about anal sex? And how many of those women also fantasize about giving head? Not too many, I’d think.

What we’re talking about here is a female unicorn. A woman who can easily climax multiple times, just from having a cock in her mouth. Or a dick in her ass. Multiple orgasms. Yeah, sure. If you ever find one of these unicorn girls, put a ring on that finger, man. Because it doesn’t get any better than that.

But, see what I’m saying? I have to assume that the target audience for this book is women, because shit man, you don’t see many guys at the airport reading romance novels. Well, maybe they would, if there was something on the cover that said, “Hardcore Anal Sex Scenes!” I mean, I’d read that shit, sure.

But why would a woman read it? It doesn’t make any fucking sense to me. Sure, the story is about a couple rich guys fighting over a plain girl who cleans toilets and washes dishes for a living. It’s a pretty standard romance tale.

So, I understand why women would want to read about that shit. All the actual romance is definitely written for women. But the sex? No way, man. That shit is straight-up porn. And sure, women like porn just as much as men do, but they don’t want to read about hardcore anal sex.

Or am I wrong? Somebody please correct me here. Do women really want to read about giving head and swallowing huge loads of jizz? Does that really get them off? I’m so confused right now.

In the end, I hated this book because the story was so fucking stupid. It’s just a simple, pointless story. And the characters were pure cardboard. No substance to them at all. And there were no surprises. Everything was way too predictable. So yeah, fuck this book.

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2 of 5 Stupid-Cunt Stars – The Healer by Christoph Fischer.

This book is very repetitive. “Heal me!” “No, I don’t want to. Fuck off.” “Come on, heal me please!” “No. Eat a dick.” “But but… I’ve got shit tons of money!” “Fine, give it to me. Now, kindly fuck off.”

This book is about a healing guru who is hiding out in the country on an old farm. He has no interest in practicing medicine anymore, because he was discredited many years ago. He used to heal people for ridiculous amounts of money. He’d literally require his clients to give him half of their net worth.

Of course, this screams ‘SCAM ARTIST’. But this stupid cunt, Erica, thinks he’s the real deal. She’s dying of cancer, and has plenty of money, and is happy to part with half of it, if this fucking hippy can actually cure her. So she seeks him out, and finds his farm only to be told ever so kindly to ‘fuck off’.

Because the healer doesn’t want to have anything to do with healing anymore. He’s done with that shit. It got him in so much trouble in the past that he’s not even the slightest bit interested in healing just one more person. But Erica is a persistent little cunt.

She argues with The Healer over and over, assuring him that she wouldn’t possibly tell anyone about his magical healing powers. No, she wouldn’t do that, no way. And she’s some powerful ad exec who doesn’t take no for an answer, so she just keeps at it, until he finally caves.

“Fine,” he says. “Give me all your money. Every last fucking penny. Then maybe I’ll treat you. Until I’ve got the cash, kindly fuck off.” So she gets the cash, and he does treat her, by injecting her with his magic jizz juice. No, he doesn’t actually fuck her. That would have made the story much more interesting. He just injects her with his magic jizz with a needle. Taking all the fun out of it. Fucking bastard.

But is his magic jizz really magic? Or is it just a cleverly disguised saline solution? Who’s to say. But he does cure her, and she goes on her merry way, broke as fuck.

Then there’s this whole conspiracy thing, about some drug company that wants to secure the rights to The Healer’s magic jizz juice. But of course, he wants no part of it. So there are lawsuits and blackmail, and all sorts of sneaky business going on.

Then Erica’s cancer comes back. Fucking great. Now we get to do all this shit all over again. Fuck me sideways. So no, I didn’t care for this book at all. It had some interesting plot twists in the end, but it was too little too late.

The entire time reading this, all I wanted was for someone to shoot that fucking twat Erica in her goddamn face. Because that’s really what she deserves. Cancer is just too good for her.

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2 of 5 Bored-Me-To-Tears Stars – Patrizio by David Tanager.

I really can’t recommend this story to anyone. Because it’s just not worth it. It’s not worth reading, that is. It’s only worth two stars because at least it’s well written. Other than that, it’s a complete waste of the few pages it occupies. Thirty-one pages of an old man’s drivel.

This is the story of love and loss. Of death and sorrow. A story of an old man contemplating suicide, and a young boy who tries to stop him. It’s set in a bar, apparently in Italy. But to me it obviously wasn’t in Italy, because the grammar wasn’t correct. But as long as the bad grammar is ‘well written’, it’s okay, right? Wrong.

At thirty-one pages, you would think that this story would just fly by, right? Well, you’d be wrong. It drags on and on and on. I kept thinking to myself, “When the bloody fuck is this story going to have a point? If ever.” And in the end, I guess it did have a point. But for such a short story, there was way too much useless filler.

I guess the point is this: “Fuck God! Fuck him in his dirty rotten asshole!” Or something to that effect. Because that’s what the old man is saying the entire time. He’s having a long-winded conversation with this boy in the bar, and he keeps telling the boy to forget that stupid cross around his neck. Piss on it. Throw it in the fucking street. Because, fuck God. He’s done nothing for nobody.

The old man tries to make the argument that suicide is a brave thing to do. Because there’s nothing on the other side. There’s no fucking heaven. It’s all bullshit. Or so he says. So, to take one’s life, you’re giving in to nothingness. You’re giving up this one chance you have to live. “That’s bravery,” he says.

On the other hand, if you believe you’re going to heaven, like some damn fool, then you’re a fucking coward to take the easy way out. Because you’re just being a goddamn pussy. You’re not being brave. You just want to go home to momma. You want to be coddled in heaven, like some goddamn sissy-boy. So, fuck that.

So, yes. There is a point to this story. But it takes too long to get there. And the point of the story isn’t worth the pages it’s printed on. The author could have just made his point on the first bloody page, and saved me a lot of time.

But no, I had to work for it. I had to dig through this sludge of a story to find the goddamn ‘point’ nugget. And when I finally found it, I just didn’t give a fuck anymore.

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2 of 5 Boring-As-Fuck Stars – When The Circus Came To Town by Deborah McClatchey.

This book is not very good. I mean, it’s a horror story, and it bored me to tears. I just couldn’t give a fuck about the characters in this story. I wanted them dead. I wanted to see them torn to pieces, and eaten alive.

Perhaps it’s because I like real horror, not subtle horror. This book is more like Stephen King horror, which to some may be a compliment, but to me, it’s an insult. Because I fucking hate Stephen King books. His early work was good, but after a few stories, he just got soft.

This book is soft from the start. It took quite a long time for anything to happen in this fucking story. I mean seriously, you can skip about half of it and not miss a goddamn thing. Most of this story is just bullshit about kids going to the fucking circus. All the stupid attractions and such.

I don’t give a fuck about the attractions. I don’t care about the goddamn lizard man, or the bearded lady. I care about whoever might be killing people. That’s the only thing that kept me interested at all. Then, when I found out who the killer was… Oh noes! Run for your life. Please. Bor-ing.

One thing that really cracked me up about this story is the fact that there were at least 4 flat tires. Try to remember the last time you got a flat tire. I can’t. But everyone in this fucking story gets a flat tire. Not because someone punctured it, but just because that shit apparently happens. All the fucking time.

And the killer wasn’t even scary. I mean every time he showed up and people screamed, I had to laugh. It’s just bloody ridiculous. Sure, if it was a scary clown, like it shows on the cover of this book, I’d run for the hills. But it’s not. It’s not anything to run from. It’s something you laugh at, and kick in the head.

In the end, it was a typical horror movie. The monster got killed, and buried. Then, he rose from the grave, as all monsters do. Because monsters can’t be killed. They can only be stalled. I don’t know why people bury monsters. Put ’em through a motherfucking wood chipper, for fuck’s sake. And be done with it.

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2 of 5 A-Gun-For-Astro Stars – Astro is Down in the Dumps by Susan Day.

Fuck this dog! Seriously, what is your problem, man? How hard can life be, as a fucking dog? You’ve got everything! Food, water, shelter, and even friends, for fuck’s sake. I just don’t understand what the fuck this dog is depressed about. Maybe someone pissed in his water bowl, or something. Who the hell knows.

This book is about a stupid cunt-doggie, who whines all day about how miserable his fucking life is. I’m pretty sure he’s suicidal. Because all his goddamn friends come to see him, and try to cheer him up, but he’s not having any of it. “Fuck off!” he says.

But they won’t ‘fuck off’. More and more friends come to see this stupid cunt-doggie, in more useless attempts to cheer him up. Of course one stupid asshole brings him fruit. How the fuck is fruit supposed to cheer up a motherfucking dog? He’s a goddamn carnivore. Bring him some fucking beef ribs or something. That’d make any dog happy.

But no. His friends keep bringing him stupid shit, that wouldn’t cheer up any dog that I know. I mean, they bring him paints, so he can do some doodling. Big deal. They bring him music, so he can sing and dance. What fucking dog wants to sing and dance? Come on.

The only good suggestion made by these so-called friends of his, was to go outside and play, goddamnit. Get the fuck out of bed, you lazy fuck. Bask in the sunshine. Chase a motherfucking frisbee, for fuck’s sake. Or a cat, even. Just do something, damn.

In the end, this cunt-dog learns a valuable lesson: his friends are assholes. He only has one true friend, and that’s the one who took him outside to play. The rest can fuck off and die.

*** DISCLAIMER: This is NOT an honest review. This review is for amusement purposes only, by request from the author. You can read my real review of this book at goodreads, if you like. I gave it 4/5 stars, because it really is a great children’s book.

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2 of 5 Throbbing-Gay-Cock Stars – Days of Throbbing Gristle by Kevin Cole.

I don’t know why, but when I read young adult fiction from a guy’s perspective, it always seems like they’re just whiny little bitches. Like Catcher in the Rye. A whiny ass bitch. It’s Kind of a Funny Story, yet another whiny ass bitch. And this book follows that same trend. Why? I have no fucking idea.

I mean, seriously… Why the fuck can’t authors write about interesting characters? Why do they always have to be whiny ass bitches? It’s fucking stupid. It’s even more stupid, when it’s 800 some pages of whiny ass bitch, which is what this book is.

It’s the story of some young English faggot, who travels to Texas as an exchange student. He doesn’t waste any time. He starts sucking dick right away. Cuz that’s how you do it in Texas, apparently. I might have to visit that fine state some day.

The young lad decides that he’s not 100% gay, and goes looking for a girlfriend. This is a hard (heh, I said ‘hard’) thing to do, when the whole community has first hand knowledge of your fine dick-sucking abilities. Word gets around, man.

So he cries like a little girl, because nobody will love him. He smokes a bowl, snorts some coke, drinks some beers, and sucks some more cock. Because hey man, stick with what you’re good at.

Somewhere along the line, he comes to the conclusion that love is bullshit. Because everyone is just out for themselves. Girls just want to be popular. They want to drink, and get high, and hang out with the cutest guys. Guys, on the other hand, just want to get laid. Period. Nothing fancy. Just gimme some goddamn pussy.

But love? There is no love. At least there’s none to be had for this poor English faggot. Because lets face it, nobody wants to hang out and get drunk with a whiney ass bitch.

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2 of 5 Do-As-I-Say-Not-As-I-Do Stars – On Writing by Stephen King.

This book is bullshit. If Stephen King followed his own advice in this book, his books would only be about 100 pages long.

Don’t get me wrong, he does give some good advice in this book. For instance: write every day. Good advice, sure. Be concise, and to the point. Good advice as well. But can anyone say that King’s books are concise and to the point? Not really. If anything, they’re the exact opposite.

Here’s some more of his keen wisdom from this book: if you can write a sentence with fewer words and still convey the same idea, use fewer words. This is the bit that gets me. It’s great advice. I use this advice. But King’s books are always chock-full of filler bullshit words/paragraphs/complete chapters that don’t fucking need to be there.

His novel Insomnia, for instance. 672 motherfucking pages. There’s about a 100 page decent story buried in that pile of pages. It’s like this for most of his books. They are just full of bullshit filler.

I used to love King’s books, back in the day. The Shining was fucking awesome. So was Carrie. But since then, he’s just been pumping out the pages for no real reason.

So, fuck Stephen King in his dirty asshole. Because, fuck man. Take your own advice, for fuck’s sake, and stop filling your books with page after page of blithering fat.

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