My best friend’s wife recently passed me up as godfather of their fourth child. She based her decision on my being an atheist and hence un-Catholic. This line of reasoning is fallacious. Believing in God or Christ is not a necessary condition of being Catholic. The real credentials are First Communion, confirmation, and being uncircumcised (not necessarily in that order). I’ve got all three. My friend’s wife disregarded me nonetheless. Family and friends are always excluding me from various religious ceremonies and rites. Still smarting emotionally from the godfather snub, I thought I’d prove my detractors wrong this Christmas season by reviewing a book about Jesus.
My penis is slightly longer than this book. This was the first thing that popped into mind while holding Jesus’ Son. I can’t say that about many books, certainly not the past two I’ve reviewed (scroll down). Jesus’ Son is short and skinny. In this regard, it’s the perfect read for just about any man, except for maybe that little Asian guy in The Hangover. It’s a known fact that most men, Italian Catholic ones especially, prefer books that are thinner than their skin and shorter than their penis. Jesus’ Son will not disappoint, more importantly, it won’t belittle, which is surprising given its apparent Jesus Christ Superstar plot of living in the shadows of the most perfect being who ever lived.
The childlike Crayola scrawl of its title signifies that Jesus’ Son is a collection of stories about a young boy who thinks he’s the Messiah. I went through a similar phase as a kid, as do most Italian Catholic boys. Denis Johnson doesn’t sound like an Italian name, nor does it sound particularly Catholic, but maybe he had a doting Italian mother. That’s all a boy needs in order to develop a raging superiority complex. However, no Italian-brand neurosis is complete without an overshadowing father figure. The Italian mother convinces her son that he’s the Second Coming while the Italian father’s eternal disapproval provides the motivation to become it.
My uncircumcised Oedipal complex is the solipsistic measure of all things; therefore, I have to question the authenticity of Johnson’s stories. After their messy divorce, my larger-than-life Italian father became addicted to himself and my mother to booze. With a waspy name like Denis Johnson, I doubt this author has experienced enough melodrama in his life to write a collection of stories about a hypersensitive egomaniac with grand delusions.
Besides, there ain’t a snowball’s chance in hell of the next Jesus being Protestant. Jesus’ Son is pocket-sized for a reason. If you’re a Presbyterian or Baptist with a short penis or Italian Catholic virgin then Jesus’ Son is probably the perfect book for you.
I already sense these reviews will end up being more about the blogee than the books.
ReplyDeleteWhat gave it away, the word "solipsistic"?
ReplyDeleteI would have thought you'd have found the subject-matter of the book far more worthy of relating it's fictional portrail of addiction, dysfunction, and co-dependance with your own unfortunate and clearly narcistic
ReplyDelete"look at me and how clever I am" manifestations of "small person syndrom" rather than missing the opportunity to note while the book's physical attributes may be inferior to your penis, the quality of it's content leaves your self-agrandizing, shall we say, limp?
On the other hand, perhaps you believe the most sensational way to reveiw any book with the name "Jesus" on the cover is to further massage your Freudian denial of anything spiritual or Christian and instead, reduce your critique of the book by means of sarcasim (clearly demonstrating that you didn't read the book and even more clearly revealing your overt contempt of anything suggestive of a belief in God...further un-masking what seems to be your deeper sense of loss, pain, fear, guilt and low self-esteem)...and even more unfortunate, your stubborn refusal to let go of all that baggage and allow yourself the chance to feel God's presence...with the same freedom, and connection of a surfer riding that perfect wave.
ReplyDeleteGeezus! Way to kick a guy when he's down. Good thing you weren't around during the crucifixion.
ReplyDeleteLOL. Nice reply.
ReplyDeleteI figured since your artsy fartsy writing style frequently relys on varying degrees of shock value, I'd give it a go, too. After all, if one presume to be a legitimate "solipsist", then continuous, honest, and penetrating self-reflecting as to the origin of one's beliefs...and non-beliefs should occasionally be at least a little challenging to the "brand" by which they identify themself.
The question is: How does your "Brand" stand up to a few kicks from me or anyone else who isn't yet convinced your self-critic and literary skill is particularly insigntful or honest?
Subverting or transfering your own skelletons won't make your "brand" withstand the test of time, in my opinion. Replacing your current Snarky, predictable, pseudo-hip, shallow, twitter-quality prose with sincere, honest, passionate, and well thought-out commentary will...assuming you care enough about your Brand to put the effort into dredging up everything that makes you tick; and breaking and re-breaking your lazy writing habits and prejudices in order to really exist outside the particular box (belief system and comfort zone) you live in.
I hope your journey is filled with tougher challenges and endless discoveries and contributions that extend beyond your lifetime.
This is the World Wide Web, bro. If you want to read "thought-out commentary" then you got to spend some money and buy a book or magazine.
ReplyDeleteRoger, that one. Books it is.
ReplyDeleteHave fun with your hobby. No doubt it should get you a few groupie-chicks and some potent weed in any case. So that's fun. Anyway, "Rock on" and all that kind of thing with your twitter blog brand thingey, there.
Peace.