I was amused by Russell Brand's Revolution, and I admired his enthusiasm in speaking boldly against the horrors of capitalism - even if the book was largely a an exposition of other books or a re-telling of other people's opinions. I picked up the second installment of his Biography (Booky Wook 2) in Book Sale, examined it, and I thought I can read leisurely without turning one hundred percent of my brain on for the fair price of 125 pesos. He's had a very interesting life. I thought it was written in the same amusing language and spirited tone:
Before I ejaculate I'm a fervid, febrile mass of sexual energy. I'll do anything, I'm demonically sexy. After I cum I'm guilty little berk in a sweaty tank top. "Good heavens, Mother, what have I done." I wonder why the chemical change is so dramatic."
I do at least give my squandered ejaculant a dignified mourning. Picture the funeral of ten million sperm, a congregation of grief-drunk mourners yelping and shrieking, sticking their fingers up their asrses --- a sepulchral carnival, a festival of mournography.Halfway through the book, he's still maundering on the VMA awards and the Big Brother show and the turn-off-your-brain fun I gather from Ruzzy wuzzy wanes and eventually wicks off. After skipping some pages and browsing through what I thought was an interesting e-mail exchange with Morrissey, I decided to commit the sin of leaving a book unfinished.
There are too many gems and too little time. I barely paid anything for the book anyway.
I'm sorry, Russell, but after Revolution, you probably wouldn't read your own booky wook. I trust earnestly that you haven't abandoned the principles and the actions you shaped in Revolution, the way I'm closing Booky Wooky 2 now.
