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Book Reviews

5 July 2024

Pity me, or don’t pity me, cause I reject pity, but, at times, for pleasure, or mere distraction of an empty kind, I read online reviews of books.  My favorite genre is the autobiography which, long ago, morphed into my line of writing:  fiction.


I guess it’s always been this way with the penned word about The Almighty Narcissistic Self, but the dross being dragged out of people who, for whatever reason, still need the money, is not merely fiction:  It’s science fiction!


The surreal aspect of the printed and published pages is matched in other-worldliness only by the Promoted Reviews to sell the bilge.  Every once in a while, however, some actual truth, hilarious in nature, slips by the corporatized-censors, or censor-bot, at these scam sites for the peddling of PC-approved publications.


There is a voluminous number of Literary Talents who have promoted their websites for book reviews, with links embedded in their many many many many reviews.  I wonder how these self-bloviating littérateurs find the time to read these 100s of books which they so expertly analyze and critique!

This incredibly cheap marketing schtick emerged during the first heady days of The Internet-Will-Change-the World.  Many of those links are broken; even more connect to zombie sites.


I was encouraged by many acquaintances to engage in this sort of futile and lazy self-promotion, but I politely shook my head. I was also advised to “get all your friends to post glowing reviews online about your books.”


I did respond to that devious dimwit.  “I’m not going to tell all 3 of my friends to shill for me.  My dearest friend doesn’t even read my books!”


I was then informed that THAT IS THE WAY IT’S DONE.  And if you don’t do it, you’ll be left behind.


That statement alone helped me to dig my rebel heels into my artistic ethos.


These know-it-alls on how to succeed, without really trying, on the ether-sphere then chose to appeal to me on a soche-media level, because I couldn’t possibly navigate Life-as-a-Writer without going down that wretched rabbit-hole!

You can meet Other Writers that way.  Join a Novelist Network!  Get connected on Fakebook, the T-bird, and other digital private-info-ripoff sites.


Nope.  I’m a lone wolf.  I might have been born that way or I chose that path, or both, but I ain’t changing now.


But to return to the hilarious truth in a book review on a corporatized website.


Barbara Sinatra, the last wife of Frank, wrote an autobiography, a book whose name escapes me and I’m not going to chase after it.  Her writing style was not what the reviewer called elegant or even intelligent.  It was, however, Barbara’s take on the fate of Nicole Simpson that set off this female reviewer somewhere in between a typed tirade and knife-sharp irony.


Mrs. Sinatra was so saddened by the way things turned out for Nicole, whom she ad met.  Yes, it was so sad.

Oh, really????!!!!  Almost decapitating your wife’s head with a knife and then slicing her boyfriend like a salami is SAD??


Perhaps Mrs. Sinatra had been legally advised to go the euphemistic route on a sick subject that supposedly, according to the propaganda-media, divided the nation of America into two camps.  The left turn that the criminal justice system in Los Angeles, in California, in America took during 1994 hasn’t straightened itself out, and it probably never will, at least not in Los Angeles.


People frivole with the most basic and precious of human emotions, and then they wonder why and how things went wrong?


The selling of fraud goes way back in the history of America.  P.T. Barnum reportedly stated “There’s a sucker born every minute,” but the origin of that quote is now disputed, with suspicion thrown (by whom I do not know) on whether or not Barnum ever said it.

I’d say the amount of money to be made from the attribution of the quote to P.T. has been surpassed by the profits grabbed by muddying the actual source of a once-famous observation by an enormously successful huckster.  The woke digital social-injustice warriors are going after any historic figure that can’t talk back, and Phineas Taylor Barnum is one of them.


Why, P.T. is no longer a hero!  Before long, his positive exploits in electronic form will have been replaced by the most foul of fictional absurdities.  Digital cowardice is the foul zeitgeist of the woke and worn-out Internet.


It’s not easy for a professional novelist to watch any language become shredded by ignoramuses.  Nor is it easy for me to observe the petty spiteful posts of malicious losers assaulting history, hope, honesty, and honorable men and women.

The collapsing of the archaic political parties, worldwide, and of the Pravda-elites populating the arenas of publishing, the arts, entertainment, and — the News — that inevitable fall has been a long time coming, at least 50 years.


The pawns paid to prop up dead and dying persons, professions, and dwindling industries are, in themselves, giving rise to their own demise.


I’m told that these conscience-less liars are behaving in such despicable — and deplorable — ways because of self-preservation, which is very much the strongest instinct.


I disagree.  Self-preservation would have told those putrid parasites to get the heck out of Dodge long ago.  These hypocrites are evil, feeding upon their blood-lust for evil.


Or, as Barbara Sinatra wrote:  So sad, the way things turned out.


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