But while the work environment is a constant smorgasbord of awesomeness, there is, in fact, an even greater benefit to working at Booxieland: the books. No, not the cosseted and bland best-sellers that cross the trade desk, nestled in an equally offensive nest of paper-back formulaic romances, science fiction tales and "action-suspense" novels. The books that catch my eye are the really groovy books that somehow, somewhere, got published in flagrant disregard to public taste or reason. Maybe its an incredibly ill-conceived cover or author photo. Perhaps a page or two of dialogue is the stuff of dreams and legends. Mayhaps an illustration or several in the interior set it apart in general freakishness. These are the books that make Booxieland the Best Little Bookstore in the South-East.
And these are the books that will be considered, one at a time in our new feature:
Heinous Fuckery from the World of Print!
First up, a true jewel of a tract from that swingin' year of 1971!
Innocuous enough cover... apparently Mr. Lovett is keen on taking back "White Power" in addition to squelching the blight of crime, sex and dope. Too bad the prohibition against dope didn't apply to the type-setter hired for
this
job
.
Moving on, we approach the simple instructions that Mr. Lovett has presented to us in order to help the sinful public understand the best way to use his book. Not simply satisfied with the application of extremely aggressively worded hyper-conservative Christian piffle, he goes further and offers extremely helpful tools to the rest of us, incapable of following the prose.
As you see, the Holy Spirit, widely held to be a sort of invisible zombie-format Jesus, dwells in the crotch of this really ominous, unnecessarily large set of nutcrackers. Yep, let it soak in... "crotch" and "nutcrackers." Keep that general theme of emasculation in mind. But the illustration does help; we are to be aware at all times that our greed for freshly shelled pecans may just bring about a second crucifixion of Christ, this time with razor-sharp nut shells causing the stigmata. But wait! What does this have to do with reigning in my unruly teenager, Mr. Lovett? Do you have some sort of additional illustration that may clarify your position on the "package-punishment-teeny bopper" triumverant of evil?
Ah! Okay! Much better. So the teenager is the "nut!" Haha! Very good, sir!
But I digress. The whole point of this book is discipline of teens, and not just any teens but Jerry and Judy, two pathologically unlucky, disadvantaged kids if ever there were any. Try as they may, they just couldn't get past the iron fist of parental instruction in the home. Time to meet the kids!
Hey! It's Jerry! The extremely well-groomed young man who appears as a disembodied head with a bright future and an aching jaw. Times are tough for Jerry at home; his folks just don't seem to understand. But hey, they aren't perfect... it says so right there on the child protective services folder photograph. Jerry didn't just have trouble with dad, though.
"Gosh, Mom! You know how much I hate having to watch you salute the tiny photograph of Hitler while standing with absolutely no irony under the Disneyland pennant... Oh! Ouch! Now I see. You used to be cool mom... I really wish you'd stop reading that literature dad keeps bringing home. I think wearing short sleeves means you're a whore... OUCH! Okay, okay! I repent!"
But Jerry's troubles were far from over. Here's an image of our young hero, trying desperately to catch a few winks in the backseat of the family Nova Wagon.
Here's a helpful passage from the book:
Geez! This kid is Satan's fucking penis or something! What a rotten egg! I mean, obviously, this kid is nothing but trouble. The mind eventually takes in the whole paragraph... "water from a hose...", " stealing food from the fridge..." (but that food's for the FAMILY!), "30 days on just water until he hears the voice of the Spirit?!" What the hell did this kid do?!
Fair enough. Hey... weren't there TWO kids? Of course! Judy, the penitential slut who inexplicably must always be photographed from behind, with emphasis on her legs. Let's see what's happening with Judy these days!
No young lady, you can't. Not til you take those pants and love beads off and wear your burlap mu-mu like a good little bride of Christ. I can tell by that look in your eye... you've been to YOUTH CAMP, haven't you?! You know what that leads to!
Shiiiiiiiittttttt. This is officially the first time I regret not getting involved with organized religion. But this does offer an interesting take on the play of good and evil in the average congregation... "Pray hard enough and Satan will make you fuck the Preacher's son?" Never fear, though. Judy's parents soon found a thoughtful and appropriate way to deal with her burgeoning sexuality.
Oh, something tells me she did. Over and over.
This wraps up our tupenny book review! Godspeed, Judy and Jerry... Godspeed.
After-dinner mint:
My mother widely holds the belief that "Assorted" is in fact, a kind of thing. For instance, she delights in Assorted Fruit Jam, admires the foliage on the elusive Assorted Shade Tree, and has at least on one occasion, yearned for the singular sensation of an Assorted Chocolate. Nothing else will do.
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