Salvador Plascencia - The People of Paper

The People of Paper, the debut novel by Salvador Plascencia, is a unique and exciting pastiche of magical realism, autobiography and experimental writing. Much has been made of Plascencia's association with McSweeney's, which is enough for some readers to dismiss the book out-of-hand. Do not fall victim to this sort of literary prejudice, though; because Plascencia's stylistic and narrative talents approach the sublime. And if The People of Paper is stripped to its very core, what remains is a heart-breaking hymn to the idea of love. In rendering love in a rather absurd and fantastical way, Plascencia creates something close to a Greek myth.

Many odd and magical things occur during the course of the story, but Plascencia wisely refrains from explaining such oddities. An array of strange people and creatures populate the novel. There are people made of paper, mechanical tortoises, bed-wetters, lime addicts and an oppressive force symbolized by the planet Saturn, amongst other things. The story is ostensibly about Federico de la Fe, a hopeless romantic who wets the bed, forcing his wife Merced to abandon him and their daughter Little Merced. This abandonment convinces Federico that he and his daughter must move to El Monte, a city just outside Los Angeles. Once in El Monte, Federico recruits a colorful cast of neighborhood characters to make war against the omniscient Saturn. This story runs parallel to later autobiographical sections documenting Plascencia's own epic struggle with love. To reveal any more would surely ruin the story.

Visually, Plascencia plays with formatting, as chapters alternate between standard prose and columned first-person narratives (think newspaper columns). He also employs primitive illustrations similar to those found in Kurt Vonnegut's classic Breakfast of Champions. None of these experiments seem forced, though. In fact, after reading the novel, it is hard to imagine the story being told in any other way.

So, If you're a fan of authors like Marquez, Calvino, Queneau or Borges, definitely read The People of Paper--it is a truly magical and memorable trip through Plascencia's formidable imagination.

Earth! A Jesus Story: Jesus & The 3-Fingered Beast

When you hear the church bells on a Sunday afternoon, my advice is to run for cover: you wouldn't want Jerry Falwell's bulbous ass enveloping your head and invading (i.e., raping) your porous gray matter with pscyhopantic ramblings. To be mind-raped by Christians is one of the more outrageous (and barbaric) crimes known to the Latter-Day Monkeys of Planet Earth. And where Jerry Falwell can be seen, you can be sure that his lapdog (John McCain) is engaging in hands-free fellatio (for Falwell's pleasure). How's that for family friendly? That's X-rated, folks--so you can be sure that half the Republican caucuses will be watching and likely joining in on the ensuing ritualistic orgy.

The point is: both God and I are baffled by the quasi-clinical mind-rape and all its practicioners.

When someone such as Jerry Falwell champions his Christian credentials, assume the opposite: that he is, in fact, a Cunt. (And I stress the capital 'C' here). And what is a cunt but a mindless membraneous orifice for all manner of engorged penises. And what does the cunt give birth to? More cunts and penises. Yes, I, Jesus, have just used the words 'cunt' and 'penis'.

If you have a problem with that, talk to my father: for it is well-known that existence spewed forth from his mind (in an ejaculatory big-bang), thus paving the way for 'cunt' and 'penis'. So, really, when you think of it, God is the source of all cunts and penises.

That said, he's not responsible for what cunts and penises do in their spare time.

Days, Nights and Other Sorts of Arbitrary Measurements: A Prayer for Marshmallows in the Dark

A day is 24 hours, or so I've been led to believe by scientists. One rotation on the Earth's axis is what we learn in elementary school. Naturally, I was always dissatisfied with this arbitrary measurement. I think it would be nice if the Earth could grant us a few more hours, or perhaps do away with the daily rotation altogether. That would make things interesting. Time would become stuck. How fun would that be? Would the gears suddenly stop? Surely, everything would be thrown into complete confusion. Computers would crash, as would the stock market. Alarm clocks would never go off, and so we'd enjoy much more sleep. Weekdays and weekends would blend together and work would become antiquated, because how could one possibly ever get to work on time if there is no time? And if the Earth stopped revolving on its axis, we wouldn't even be able to read a sundial. There would be no way of telling time. All the better for us. We're a bit too occupied with time's embrace anyways.

Certain parts of the globe would have to be plunged into total darkness. All the better for star-watching, campfires and marshmallows.

With mass confusion would certainly come an increase in crime. This is unavoidable. My advice would be to move to the country: the criminals would soon exterminate themselves if this were to ever happen anyway.

Bring a shotgun, though, and some bear traps just in case the violence spills into the countryside.

In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost...

Acckhaahyhdam-men!



Yours Truly,

D. J. Pangburn

If your mother was a werewolf, what would you do?

What if your mother became a viscious werewolf when the full moon's light spreads across the sky? Imagine: the excess hair growth, deadly claws replacing her painted fingernails, yellow eyes, a foaming mouth and one bad attitude.

What would you do? What could you do?

Clearly you would have a moral struggle in killing her. Most of the time, she's a pretty darned good mom. It's only every full moon that she's a rampaging werewolf who will kill anything in her path. Even you.

Perhaps you'd look for an antidote. Maybe you'd start making some silver bullets. Maybe you'd tell your dad and he'd say, 'I always knew something was up with that bitch...' Perhaps you'd lock her in a cage right before every full moon and then feed her several pounds of steak.

But, your mother is a werewolf! She wants human flesh. So the next question you have to ask yourself is this: while she's locked up, would you kill a human in order to sate her appetite. You don't want to see her unhappy. You want to please your mother, even in her altered state.

Or would you let her take a nibble out of your hand, so that you too could become a werewolf and join her in doing werewolf things?

These are all questions one needs to ask in the event one's mom turns into a werewolf.

Revamping The Blog & Welcoming New Writers

We've decided to enlarge the blog, or engorge it, so to speak, if you prefer an overtly sexual vernacular. Several writers will now be contributing pieces that will range from food and album reviews, to personal diaries and news commentary. That's not all! There's more! And its yours for the one time only price of FREE! Jesus will be offering up his commentary on the news. We're also thinking of having Mohammed write an editorial, but we're trying to avoid a Fatwa.

Here are the new columns:

'EARTH! A Jesus Story' - A weekly news commentary courtesy of the robed one. We're currently negotiating a daily piece with him. What? Jesus got get paid, too!
'Hi I'm Andy Banks' - A weekly update of the goings-on in Andy Banks life, written by Andy Banks.
'Dood Food with Uncle Ken' - A bi-monthly recipe column paired with classic album reviews. Apparently, Chili and ZZ Top are the first pairing. Stay tuned. Written by Ken Pangburn.
'This Week In...' - A weekly travelogue from travel correspondents who clearly know nothing about the places they've been. If they haven't been to Beirut, they'll make it up!
'Hannity's Hemorrhoid' - A column written from the perspective of Harry, a hemorrhoid located in the nether regions of Sean Hannity's ass. He will talk about anything and everything.
'Poster Child for Eugenics' - A weekly award given to the week's biggest idiot, with accompanying commentary.
'People You Should Avoid' - A column emphasizing people that you should avoid at all costs.


Several more columns are forthcoming and we'll keep you updated with the latest additions to the staff.

Cheers,

DJ

Klaxons Set To Invade America

Not on my watch! Stay in the UK you twats.

Gays and Christians United Against Snickers

Have we slipped into some bizarre, post-Super Bowl cultural vortex? If you haven't noticed already, Gays and Christians are united against a common enemy--a global candymaker? Oh, the Horror!

The Gays take issue with how the ad suggests an inherent immasculation exists in a homosexual kiss.

Religious conservatives take issue with the Homosexual kiss, in general, during the wholesome Super Bowl festivities.

What do we take away from this whole fiasco? Snickers makes you a self-loathing homosexual.

The Misshapes DJ parties and New York goes nuts!!!

The Misshapes... Angular haircuts have never been so finally tuned as with this group. Lots of black. Lots of white. Chic designs. Mugatu surely would have said, 'Misshapes, so hot right now!' Continuing with the Zoolander theme, every photo op for the trio is just another opportunity to project cool through carefully measured Magnum poses.

More to the point, what is it that has everyone falling over themselves to heap praise on these three stooges of hip culture?

- They DJ at clubs! So does Richie Hawtin, Darren Emerson and a plethora of others. If you know good music and have the skills to man the turntables, there's nothing spectacular about DJing in and of itself. This is where marketing and self-promotion come in and therein lies The Misshapes real talent: selling cool.

- But, they have such great fashion sense! No, not really. They look like just about every other rock star, DJ, fashion hipster on the planet.

Shit... I can't even think of any additional reasons why we should be looking at our watches to see if the 15 minutes are up with this group. Their image simply says it all. All image, no substance.