Lit Review

In his novel, Obscene Atlanta, Parkins Baltazar recalls the truces he entered into and breached with the kind of carelessnessreserved for a Thanksgiving dinner hastily eaten over the kitchen sink.

Baltazar sheds new meaning on the word "obseqious" as this harrowing how-to guide takes you step-by-step through the life and times of a hardened recantuer.

His brief stint in the Army is chronicaled in a compleling forthrightness that stands unchallanged in justifying his extended stint in the discliplinary barracks at Ft.Leavenworth and his subsequent launch into geosynchronous orbit where he earned hisbachalor's in physics just trying to use the bathroom in the same manner that resulted in the phasing out of space monkeys inthe first place.

Peeling back the layers of a man so inept as himself requires the kind of unflinching self-inventory that only a man inextended recovery from the abuse of alcohol and hard drugs as Parkins Baltazer wishes he was.

A teetotaler, baltazer never touched a drop or drug not prescibed by a physician, but in view of his wanton hubris, he hasregularly attened AA meatings since the late 80s and has made remarkable strides in not being a complete and utter fuckface and serves as an example of why none of us should be allowed to profit from a book deal involving admitting in the court of public opinion the nature of our wrongdoings.

You'll laugh, you'll cry, and you'll seek medical attention as you read this peach of a med-time story between sentencing appeals.

Peaches McGhee sweps us off our teets with his chilling sequel to "I pummeled a nobody", which kept us on the edge of ourseats for so long we all bought beanbag chairs.

Well, the 70s have faded into time, but our buddy Peachs seems to be just getting started. While the 80s saw a rise in steller exposes of upper-class pomposity with the rise of programs like Falcon Crest, Dallas and Gold Man Jones, McGhee's writing lost momentum but never had the sense to simply go away. Maybe that's a good thing because in the long-awaited sequel,

"Nobdy Puts Peaches McGee Into a Coma", he recounts how he must've really fucked up that one time and had to learn to use a fork all over again. I give it a "G" for "Somebody pitch a granade into this fiasco" because while most of it actually happened the way he tells it, it's because somebody else had to remind him the whole time he was typing this unauthorized
autobiography.I recomend this book for anybody seeking a book about formal dinner place settings and cat care.

In "I go chop yo dollar", Semboko Ubo tell us how he spammed his way into the bank accounts of an unsuspecting public and into the heart of one little Rwandan girl who was born with her heart lodged in her spine. Though he never comes to this child's direct financial aid, stories of his arrest for uploading a picture of her on life support and saying he was her "HonorableBarrister" lead to her having been flown to the United States and given a series of painful skin grafts before the mistake was discovered. If this story doesn't restore your faith in humanity, it's because it's not supposed to.

If a dusty old stack of penny dreadfuls is more your speed, gear up for Penelope Grimm's short collection of compliled stories, "Pinpricks and Elephant Guns", which pen-in villian mustaches, vandykes and missing teeth on a number of recycledmorality plays meant to keep children out of Hell. Don't blame me for warning you never to set foot into this one, I'm not telling you nothing about none of this for your own good. So read it on the toilet for all I know.