The Jungle-Pedro J

In this dangerous land
Everyday a fight to survive.
Uncertain of one's safety
And how to stay alive.

Thinking only of yourself
Our upward view is clouded.
Visibility is low.
The truth has been shrouded.

Year long storms
Start in September skies.
The clashes in the clearings.
Oppression in our eyes.

We struggle for our rights
In a troubled land.
The proletariat revolt:
Here we make our stand.

We fight against the one
To make them toe the line.
In this concrete jungle
We are the ninety-nine.

The Little Engine That Could Review

Over the years, I've read quite a bit of dense literature that required deep analysis to understand, and this  cruel book by Watty Piper is by far the densest. The themes, symbols, and motifs went layers deep, and were simply boggling to me. To any of you far lesser minds, it could only be numbingly confusing.
     The Little Engine That Could starts right off with the confusion: all the trains are talking. There are enough people that open up their maws to release torrents of garbage upon the ears of undeserving bystanders; do we really need trains to add water to the flood?
     Accepting this ridiculous and unnecessary skill possessed by the engines, the story only gets more ridiculous. A bunch of presents need to be delivered to some poor children over a mountain. This brings up a whole series of problems. Who is giving these whippersnappers presents? Don't the kids have some sort of half-assed parental figures to collect the presents for them?
     Then, the strong engines won't carry the cargo. Is there no discipline in this train-yard? If the military was like this during my days in the war, we'd all be speaking German. Since these good-for-nothing layabouts are too busy wishing they could be Thomas the Tank Engine, the titular train has to carry the presents. Unfortunately for the brats, this train is like the weakling with the glasses who lived in your neighborhood as a child, who instead of playing football would be with the cheerleaders on the side.
     Predictably, the train starts off terribly, struggling to get over the mountain. He finally manages to make the ascent by repeating "I think I can" to himself. This may be the stupidest mantra ever. If this was the slogan used by the perpetrators of the French Revolution, nobody would know what the hell a guillotine is. It's simply repulsive.
     And none of this makes sense. I spent seventeen hours trying to figure out what Mr. Piper was going for, and the only conclusion I could reach was that he was high on acid while writing the book.

Final verdict: 1/10. My brain hurt, and for a genius like myself, that's nearly impossible.

You dungbeetles care to disagree? Comment below.

A Lack of Productivity~The Slacker

Microwave soundbytes
Awaken me from slumber.
It is two A.M.

I crawl up the stairs
And flop into my cold bed.
Quietly I doze.

Thoughts of my failure
Run through my head so cruelly.
I am pathetic.

One more day wasted
A chance of meaning is lost.
I'm doomed to repeat.

The Big Hard Iron Rod~Fox

The big iron rod
Stares me in my eyes deeply.
I must conquer it.

                     -Fox


For fitness info visit: http://foxfitnessadvice.blogspot.com 

Jurassic Park Review

      A fixture in popular culture, Jurassic Park is famous both in its own right, and for the movie adaptation directed by Steven Spielberg. While movies confuse me, the book actually isn't half bad. It was consistently interesting and engaging; I only fell asleep once while reading. The characters were likable enough, especially Ian Malcolm, some kind of math nerd, who I found quite humorous, despite the fact that I think I bullied him during my 5th year of high school.
     However, both author Michael Crichton and rich owner of the titular park John Hammond are losers. I mean, what kind of grown man spends this much time thinking about dinosaurs? I gave up dinosaurs in the third grade when I banged my 16-year-old sister's friend under our trampoline.
     Anyways, the book was pretty good for something aimed at 10-year-olds. Speaking of little kids, the girl, Lex, in the book was one of the most annoying literary characters ever. She whined about everything, almost got everyone killed countless times, and was a bitch to her younger brother (who, admittedly, was kind of a nerd). She ended all regrets as to giving my wife full custody.


All told, I give the book a 7/10. Good, but you're never going to get laid with a book about dinosaurs.

You earwigs care to disagree? Comment below.

Robinson Crusoe Review

      Many people regard Daniel Defoe's Robinson Crusoe as a classic and a great piece of literature. I think these people are lunatics. The reason his name is Defoe is because only one's greatest enemy would inflict such tedious torture upon an unsuspecting readers.
     The first problem is the main character, for whom the book is named, is a psycho. He manages to get lucky enough to be removed from the world, with none of its annoying inhabitants to deal with. Once happily established on his island, however, he wastes time helping people and trying to escape. Ridiculous. His religious rantings and constant thanking of Divine Providence get rather old as well.
     The dialogue is also terrible. Crusoe's main companion, Friday (what the hell kind of name is that?) speaks English, but only in the most stereotypical broken dialect possible. He also goes from being a cannibal to being a God-fearing Christian, all because of the great prophet Robinson's speeches. A likely story.
     The plot is predictable enough. He gets rescued, makes it back to England, and lives a jolly life.
     Lastly, the entire book is in one chapter! Not having anywhere to stop, I read the entire thing in a single sitting, although I think that one may be my own fault.


   

     Final verdict: 4/10. Wouldn't recommend.


     You worms care to disagree? Comment below.

One More Thing

I've read all the books I'm posting about. So even if I say something you think is inaccurate, you're obviously wrong. I make of the books what I make of them. Deal with it.