A collection of essays and songs without music.  Not for the faint of heart or the delicate of nature, nor for the tender of experience and years, or the prim of mouth and mind.  The author looks at life, love, language and libido through his own besmeared glasses and passes the view on to the reader.  The book was written in Japan (although not really, completely about Japan) during the author's 19-year stint teaching English in Nagano. 

Reviews:

"If  it were a movie an audience paid to see, they would slash the screen."--Chico Views & Reviews, Modern Guilt column.

"Classic solipsism lightened by a plethora of innuendo"--Right Reverend Cotton Shields, Lutheran Oversight

"pure filth"--Beulah Maimhart, morals monitor, Lakota Righteous Bee

"This book made me laugh, cry, grimace, clutch my stomach, and get a migraine, but the cover is a lovely shade of blue.  Please buy it, because if you don't, I am stuck with 5 boxes of the damn thing in my attic!"-- author's sister.

Excerpts:

from Poetry:  "Shaping it [prose] like verse should fool no one.  It does not intensify its meaning; it mocks it.  Contrariwise, writing verse in prose form does conserve space on the page, but it does read as ridiculously as the former. . .Both practices prove what my Lutheran mother always said. 'You can't make chicken salad out of chicken droppings.'  Although my father said you could, but not to invite him to the picnic."

from Yield Right Away:  "There was actually a guy in literature class that said in response to a discussion. 'If Shakespeare means to say he loves this woman completely, why doesn't he just say that instead of all that other stuff?'  (How can this possibly be answered without force?)"

intro to It's only a Bruce:  "When this [lyric] was written 10 years ago, there were other actors whose foibles were just as popularly known.  But using their names in a repeated rhyme proved too difficult to attempt.  For example, how many rhymes can you come up with for 'Costner' or 'Stallone' or (heaven help me) 'Schwarzenegger', for god's sake!  Now 'Rourke' as in Mickey was a thought, but after pork and dork, what else is there?"

from Gets Me: "There's one more group I fear to mention, as most give them their fond attention.  But rather get bit by a dog with rabies, than drooly kissed by slobby babies.  I believe these infernal folks are an elaborate maternal hoax.  Born to propagate the species?  Prodigiously producing feces seems to be what they do well; change loving marriage to a living hell, these small folk.  At mommy's breast a bedtime bookie, while papa dreams in vain of nookie.  So sooner fondle a deadly viper than fold some flounder's fetid diaper.  These little folk they make no sense, can't walk or talk, they're just too dense; and for all our care, no recompense!  From these selfish, tiny, whiny folk.  The ultimate karmic, cosmic joke for all folk."

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