This started as a book cover for my brother in law but, it became much more than that for me. It became a down the rabbit hole thing. The book is full of funny but, often, well, let’s say, his sided views on why it’s difficult to have smooth running relationships with women. Guaranteed, this book will piss off women. You’d be hard pressed to find many who so much as agree with a single thing in it. It’s not about agreement. It’s about expression and in that, I love it. It’s funny and sad and above all else, idiosyncratic. It’s ripe with puns and plays on words and little plays here and there. It’s full of symbols and paradox. It strives to tear down paradigms but, often through a slightly more than skewed filter.

There are many fun details in this. It’s jam packed with metaphors and dream cliches.

Snails and swords, slow death, slow wounding but, pain killers at it’s handle. What better way to a mans heart more than a hearty bowl of fart inducing chilly, balancing on the tip of what will kill him. He must have his delicacy regardless of it’s peril. He with the puppy dog’s tail and roses and hammer in hand, prays that he can successfully court and ride the kitty. He wants her more than anything. Forked tongue and crocodile teeth, it doesn’t matter. He craves the dichotomy, even if she did ruin his favorite t shirt and sissified him in the process. He likes the crazy eyes. He longs for Wonder Women’s muscular arm pit. He wants her to squeeze him till he’s blue in her highest raised hand, as blue as the Crayolla’s of color acuity, as blue as the little make you happy pills, as blue as star spangles, as blue as butterflies, as blue as green her eye.

I could go on and on... some times a banana is just a banana but, can the same be said for slicing the melon?