Archive for June, 2011

If you have not read Richard Armour, then stop reading this post and do edumacate yourself.  I cannot have barbarians reading this blog and giving me a bad name.

The man is a friggin’ genius.  Taking history and making it funny, one has to be, doesn’t one?  Although Armour does not completely destroy the point behind reading about dead people and their their silly mistakes (namely, to either learn from them or repeat them), he can take you out of how “dreadful” it all seems and let the readers realize how pathetically hilarious everything in life can be.

From Marx’s “humble” beginnings to his theories of life in their full power around the globe, Armour gives the reader a pretty comprehensive step-by-step of how Marx, and Marxism, rose to their theatrical power amongst the peoples.  Although Armour is not out to make a point, he sees no reason not to laugh at everybody, and so that’s exactly what he does.

A man after my own heart, with probably more fondness of the human race than I shall ever hold in my soul, Armour is witty and quick – the books can be done in a night if one doesn’t worry about seeming to be “pondering” every single sentence.  Like a lunatic.

Go make yourselves smarter.  Then maybe you’ll become sentient enough to read as a blip on my radar.

Editor’s Note: I in no way agree or follow the path of Marx’s teaching or ideals.  Thank you for reminding me to clarify, rogueoperator


Phoenix Unchained

I haven’t finished it, but I am about halfway through and, despite the fact that I have no understanding of the obvious background going on with the story, I am enjoying the writers’ style, and the reader’s ability to make that style clear. 

His, the reader’s, voice for women, and whining teenagers, can be hair-tugging at times, but for the most part he reads well.

The story with a background, like I said I have no connection of understanding, seems to wrap around the overly-used and commonly common notion that there is a good and a bad, a dark and a light, a jedi and a sith, and the two must always balance each other out in the spectrum of the universe, or we’ll all perish in a coming of apocalypse the likes that 2012 could never reenact.

Basically, though, the story goes like this: 

“Man decides that to save the dragon he loves, he must bring evil to world.  Enter meddling kids.  Meddling kids have superpowers.  These superpowers negate the need to tell any adult of the danger.  Meddling kids make improbable conclusion that only they can save the world.  Chaos and needless death of thousands ensue.”

And that’s where I am right now.  More to come, but I just had to get this out there.  Like that itch you just gotta scratch; I had to mock this book a little bit before I finished it.


As an aside, I recently realized (thanks to a cousin of mine) that my knowledge of the scifi/fantasy world of books is seriously out of date.  We’re talking Windows XP while everyone else has got W7 Ultimate.  So, I’ve set on a mission to update myself, while retaining my personal promise to not read anymore books that I actually desire to burn for heresy, blasphemy, and poor grammar.

If anyone who reads, or comes across, this blog knows anything of modern day scifi/fantasy books that are worth my precious time, please drop their title and the name of the writer (because people who write fiction are not authors), I would be much obliged.

That doesn’t mean I would suddenly like you; I still hate you all.  But I would hate you in an obliged manner.

It is also my intention to have a nervous breakdown come around August.

Yes, I read religious stuff.  Yes, I am of a religion.  Yes, that makes me totally better than most of you.  No, that doesn’t mean I understand a word in this book.

But, Benny is still a wizard with words.  Pope Benedict XVI (Benny to his close friends) writes about finding hope – by finding God – in one of his early works published after rising to the see of Peter. 

I won’t wax poetical, or try to pretend that I can explain with as much word magic as the Pope can, but I will say that “Saved in Hope” was my favorite religious writing when I first read it, and remains my favorite religious reading today.  I’ve skimmed, flipped, (not dog-eared because that’s wrong) bookmarked, copied down on 3×5 cards, and generally tried to live memorize this work.

It’s religious, it’s spiritual, it’s uplifting, it’s God.


Oh, and I still hate bipeds.  Thanks for nothing, Trebek.

Yeah, yeah – I know it’s been a while since I posted.  Gads, life has been overly busy.  My first order as queen of the world will to demand all work and toil and socializing to end at 5:00pm exactly, so that people can do other more important things.  Like sleep and eat and such.


Anyway, what has been going on?  Nothing.  I have, however, as the title of this post might suggest, read a book or so.  I’ll do the “or so” in their own posts, just to be fair and balanced with all of the books.

Daughter of Time – a mystery by Josephine Tey – is such an easy read that not even the detective and hero ever left the confines of a hospital bed in order to solve the case.  “What case?” you might be thinking, as this point completely confused and befuddled and bewildering and in between.  The case of “who was Richard III and why was he so evil?”

The hero of the book, whose name now escapes me, is a reader of faces.  When he sees the face of Richard III, he decides that the man that stares back can’t be as evil as history makes him to believe.  So, the hero sets out on a historical adventure(?) to uncover the real man behind the mask.  Without giving anything away to those who never read beyond what the conventional – and boringly clichéd – history tell them, the ending is pretty predicable from the outgo.

The book itself was short – I read it in a week, given that I had to read it in between classes and work – with big print, which made the story itself shorter.  Quick to read, Tey is no master of pen and paper, but she writes a cute mystery for the casual skimmer of pages.  I would recommend it for lite bus rides reading we all like to think we do.