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in which the author discusses five books he’d read, if time permitted.
1. Hustling Backwards, by Ronald R. Hanna. Some asses get waxed and some punk-ass bitches get whacked in this gangsta’s tale by a self-published D.C. author who’s written like 10,000 novels and thrown up a curious website that’s the dream of any journalist who is also a procrastinator. A must-read for the crowd at Wonderland who’ve never heard of Simple City, the Shrimp Boat, Nannie Helen Burroughs, EU, RE, or Barry Farms.
2. Rich Boy, by Sharon Pomerantz. In this debut novel, a Jew from Philadelphia discovers the neurosis-free glory of a cushy WASP existence when he leaves the City of Nebbishy Love to attend Tufts. A little bit like School Ties; a little bit like my life.
3. My Appetite for Destruction: Sex, and Drugs, and Guns N’ Roses, by Steven Adler. It’s hard to make a joke about a book that I would so happily, so enthusiastically, so undistractedly, so devotedly, so goddamned thoroughly read in one sitting.
4. Mustaine: A Heavy Metal Memoir, by Dave Mustaine and Joe Layden. Ditto.
5. Were You Born on the Wrong Continent?: How the European Model Can Help You Get a Life, by Thomas Geoghegan. I’m a red-blooded American. As such, I’m suspicious of the federal government, health care reform, climate change, affirmative action, gun control, income taxes, interstate highways, the U.S. Marshalls, capital gains taxes, the FCC, Sarbanes-Oxley, the SEC, the U.S. Mail, the 14th Amendment, estate taxes, and pundits whose last names don’t rhyme with “sailin’,” “wailin’,” or “flailin’.” So, basically, if you’re running for office and want my vote, say you’ll make this country less like Sweden and more like Deadwood, and I’m sold. Got that? Less Sweden, more Deadwood. It’s a simple formula.