It Sucks To Know Me

Here's a once in a lifetime opportunity (at least that's what my critics are hoping for) to read my third book. If you already know me, you fully understand the full import as enshrined in the title of what I mean when I say "It Sucks To Know Me". For those causal acquaintances, here's your last warning: run, don't walk, before it's too late. For once you open this book, your psyche will never be the same. Your mind might explode as you try to reconcile the concept that Karl Marx had a number of good sayings while you're cheering loudly at a Tea Party rally. As I said to my sister after she hadn't spoken to me for six months after reading my first book, I didn't kill any people in my book, they were just lawyers. I was fortunate to have another six months of peace until her brain finally was reset and she forgot why she was no longer speaking to me. For my part, my brain edit function is still out for repair (by court order). I invite all of you to contemplate this as you read this book: Do you consider it to be a worthy addition to the world's literature or would it have been better if I was never born? Send you votes to my mom who's agreed to tally them for me.