Sad Puppies Review Books: IF YOU GIVE A MOUSE A COOKIE


Reviewed by John Z. Upjohn, USMC (Aspired)

I’m going to come out and say it: this so-called “book” is a scam. I was looking for a children’s storybook when I bought this book, and it was listed as a storybook. But it is not a storybook. You pay for a storybook, and instead you get a heaping pile of nothing. It should not have been sold as a storybook if it doesn’t contain a story.

A story is defined as a series of things that happen but nothing happens in this so-called “story”. Literally nothing, from start to finish. The first word of the book is “if”. It says:

“If a hungry little mouse shows up on your doorstep, you might want to give him a cookie. And if you give him a cookie, he’ll ask for a glass of milk. He’ll want to look in a mirror to make sure he doesn’t have a milk mustache, and then he’ll ask for a pair of scissors to give himself a trim.”

At first I thought it was just a little wordy for a prologue, but the whole book of If You Give A Mouse A Cookie goes on like that, talking about what might happen, if you do this first thing, and these other things happen. Page after page. 40 pages of this hypothetical crap. I read this whole book to my children, and every time I turned the page I hoped that the story would start but every time it was just more of that hypothetical garbage.

It’s a damned shame, too. I think my kids would have loved hearing about a mouse sweeping the house and then sleeping in a tiny box, but that never happened! None of it ever happened! It was all a ridiculous what-if scenario!

A story is supposed to answer the question “what-if” but the question should be left off the page because if it’s on the page then you don’t have a story at all!

I have a what-if scenario for the authors of this book: what if they had written exactly the same book, with the same events and the same pictures, but instead of saying “If you give a mouse a cookie” they just said “You gave a mouse a cookie, and then all this stuff happened.”? What would happen then? I’ll tell you what: it would have been a story, and people would be able to be entertained and amused by it. But since they didn’t do that, there’s no story.

How people can fail to understand the very simple fact that telling the same sequence of imaginary events in a slightly different way makes the difference between it being a story or not is beyond me. It is so obvious,

Yet I have heard this fraudulent scam of a “story” praised to the high heavens from all quarters. Once I got over my shock of having read 40 pages of nothing to my children—who, troopers that they are, made a polite show of being engaged and amused even as nothing actually happened—I started to wonder what could account for its supposed popularity.

Troubled, I reached for the book I always reach for in times of crisis, the one book that holds all the answers to life’s mysteries. Every conservative household should have at least one copy of Rules For Radicals in order to recognize Saul Alinsky’s tricks. Liberals are obsessed with that guy.

After a few hours of study, it seemed obvious to me that there must be an agenda at work, and as soon as I knew there was an agenda I could see it everywhere. It’s so easy to see agendas I’m surprised more people don’t do it.

The reason that SJWs have arranged for this hollow mockery of a book to be praised by all quarters is that it is basically a modest proposal for welfare benefits to immigrants. It starts by asking you the reader to imagine a mouse just shows up on your door unannounced and says he’s hungry, and then suggesting that you feed him. The words like “if” and “might” make this sound so polite, so reasonable. The rhythm of the book is I believe intended to lull the reader into a daze where you will nod along. “Makes sense,” you will say to yourself. “If a bunch of hungry vermin want to invade my home, why shouldn’t I give them the food off my table?”

This is the same kind of mind control technique utilized by Stalin and the Nazis. SJWs are modern day Fascists. They hide this fact by calling any conservative politician who calls for even slightly fascist policies a Fascist even though it is a historical fact that Fascism = leftism.

What really seals the deal for me is the way the book comes full circle at the end. It starts with proposing that the mouse might be given a handout of a cookie and milk and then it ends a day later by pointing out that the series of events set in motion by that handout require the mouse to be given yet another handout. You wouldn’t even have to be a halfway good storyteller to turn this into a chilling cautionary tale but this book isn’t even a story, it’s propaganda. So the natural consequence of a nanny state that welcomes all comers is presented as something whimsical and fun.

Well even the worst liberal hogwash can still be useful for teaching children to recognize liberal hogwash. If you do read this book to your children I suggest a discussion period after so you can point out what’s actually happening: how the narrator is subtly suggesting that you should do this thing as if it were your idea, but the result is that you have to give the mouse another cookie and another glass of milk every day and all you have to show in return is a perfectly clean house and surprisingly good artwork.

This is a good opportunity to each your children the value of the dollar, too. The cookies cost basically nothing because your wife can just make them for free anytime, but tell your children how much a gallon of milk costs and help them calculate how much an eight ounce glass of it would cost, then remind them that once you let the mouse into your house you would be paying this every day while the mouse contributed absolutely nothing to the household except keeping it clean and making it beautiful.

Which again is something your wife should do for free.

Two stars.

Rabid Puppies Review Books: IMOGENE’S ANTLERS


Reviewed By Special Guest Reviewer Theophilus Pratt
(Publisher — Hymenaeus House)

Well, John Z. Upjohn has been reviewing books here for a week with not much to show for it. If anything, the SJWs have treated the whole thing as a joke! He means well, but the problem is the SJWs don’t. His fundamental decency shows through in every moderate, conciliatory word he writes, but they spit in his face every time. That’s why I’m taking over for the day, to show him how it’s done.

This is a culture war, and the SJWs take no prisoners. They are the most ruthless thought police the world has ever seen. This is why every last trace of their philosophy must be expunged from existence and all who extol it punished suitably.

Our battle ground for the day is Imogene’s Antlers, which from the very cover obviously promises to be an amusing if instructive lesson in the fundamental truth of the rhetoric of the SJWs and their myriad lies. I purchased this book not with Congress-issued coins of gold and silver but unbacked fiat currency, an irony which was not lost on me when I considered that this book, too, was mere paper backed by nothing of value.

How has the dream of our Founders been allowed to fall so low? It is obvious to any man of reason that the once great nation of the United States of America is not even a shadow of herself. You will find no acknowledgment of this simple truth in Imogene’s Antlers, which is just one of the many flaws I have divined in the moments  I spent studying its cover. SJWs always lie.

It is amusing to consider the conceit of a woman, a mere slip of a girl, as the protagonist of a book. Whatever trivial discomforts her misadventures pose to her, she would be better served to be a homemaker and allow someone with a greater genetic predisposition towards intelligence such as a man so solve them.

Oh ho, do you think that was sexist? How amusing that you have fallen for my cunning trap. I didn’t say that all women are genetically the intellectual inferior of all men, did I?

I said that this one individual, being a woman, is the intellectual inferior of another individual, being a man! How very like an SJW to miss that and leap to tar me with vile calumnies which cannot be backed up! Proof once again that SJWs always lie!

This is because SJWs rely on rhetoric, using loaded emotionally overwrought words like “evidence” and “proof” and “here is a link to Theophilus saying that women should not be allowed to vote” and other suchlike appeals to feelings, while I, with my eminently logical mind, operate solely in the syllogistic realm of the dialectic except when it amuses me to resort to more rhetorical modes, which is frequently.

And so I have outsmarted you once again. But do not take it too hard. Based on certain key demographics coupled with unmistakable signs I have calculated my own IQ as +3 SD. I always phrase my IQ in terms of significant standard deviation rather than irrelevant numbers to show that I am not some mere dilettante who took on an online test. No, I am an expert who took an online test, and then adjusted the result upwards to account for the superiority of my genetics. Genius though I am, even I can barely fathom how terribly intelligent I am. What hope have you?

What hope has anyone?

I am a master gamesman and you are all my pawns. My skills have been honed over the course of many hours arguing rules around a table full of Ral Partha miniatures. Unless you would have me believe that the master craftsman in the Divine Workshop could not equal the elegant simplicity of the rulemakers in the Games Workshop, you cannot convince me that this has not left me in top condition to deal with any and all situations I might encounter.

Alone, I am mighty. With my Baleful Cohort behind me I am unstoppable. I sneer at your polite assumptions about how humans should interact with each other in order to have a functional society. Is there a bowl of candy at your reception desk for visitors to snack on? I refuse to merely graze at it like cattle. I will have it all. Your social contract means nothing to me. Your take-a-penny, leave-a-penny tray does not impress me. I will take a penny. I will take all the pennies. I will not leave a penny. You will stare in open-mouthed horror at your empty penny tray just as the Germanic hordes once stared at the Roman pila whistling through the air at their skulls.

You are the Germans in this analogy.

I am the Romans.

Are you in an elevator with me? I will void my intestine of flatus the instant the doors close. Hold your mealy-mouthed objections about what is and isn’t done. I don’t care.

Do you hear me?

I don’t care.

Is there a rule against it? There is not. Is there a law against it? There is not. You who would politely hold it in are like a two-dimensional being faced with an invader who can move in not three or four but seventeen separate and distinct dimensions, and you had best clutch your pearls tightly because no fewer than five of those dimensions involve intestinal gas.

I once fouled the air while sharing a taxicab with Theresa Nielsen Hayden and then stuck her with the fare, telling her I would get it next time. Of course my incredibly subtle and complex stratagem comes with an insidious barb on the end: there has been and will be no next time, and neither she nor anyone else can do anything about it.

If I would do such a thing to she who commands the unquestioning loyalty of every SJW, do you think I would do any less to any of you? More the fool you!

I have heard her conspiring against me, saying, “I seriously would not share a cab with that guy.” How amusing that she thinks allowing me to overhear this whispering campaign would dissuade me from such conduct. Obviously the only reason she would warn someone else about my behavior is she thinks I will feel bad and become meek and compliant and docile as a result of her chastisement. How arrogant and typically self-centered of her to assume that her feelings mean anything to me! It is as amusing as it is instructive. I’ll say it again: I don’t care.

I am immune to the feelbads and SJWs do not know what to do about this. I am like a sinkhole destroying their roads and they put signs up all around me saying “CAUTION: SINKHOLE” as if they believe the mere act of putting up a sign can fill in a hole!

This is why the SJWs fear me. This is why they are so fascinated by me. I know. I watch them. Constantly.

Especially John Scalzi. He is a man obsessed. If you ever wish to see for yourself what a man in the throes of a deep obsession looks like, come to me and I will furnish you with details of his daily routine along with the best vantage points from which to observe him unseen. Sometimes I see him pacing his living room for hours at a time. What could drive him to such distraction, I ask, if it isn’t me?

He tells me that there is no conspiracy against me but I have compiled a list of his eating habits and lavatory visitations going back to 2008. It’s only a matter of tabulating them and then the truth will be plain for all to see. One of the Cohort has a contact at a clinic he frequented, and soon I will have a chart of his body weight between 2009 and 2013. Then I will be able to blow the lid off all his little schemes once and for all

Don’t think that I won’t.

I don’t care.


Sad Puppies Review Books: CORDUROY


Reviewed by John Z. Upjohn, USMC (Aspired)

The SJW clique that runs the publishing world loves to twist things around. When people clamor for them to make books with honest covers, books with covers you can judge them by, they twist things around. They knew we wanted them to change the  inside of the book to match what the covers promised us.

Instead we get books with covers like this one, which shows the male hero half-undressed in a cheesecake pin-up pose, about to bend over while his suspender slips off his shoulder.

I have to hand it to the SJWs: it’s exactly what the cover promises, an emasculation manual for young males and nothing more. It’s barely one step above a forced feminization fantasy story. The Feminazis say they want equality but they are not content to let men be men and women be women. Gender abolition is the real goal of all feminism, and that means male extinction. This so-called storybook is a thinly veiled feminist fable designed to indoctrinate men with passively accepting our fate.

The so-called hero of this book just sits on a shelf all day next to girly stuffed animals and dolls, just waiting for someone to come along and claim him. It’s only after a girl comes along and says she wants him that suddenly his life has meaning and he’s up and walking around, doing stuff to try to please her. What kind of lesson is that for our young men to be learning, I ask you?

If I tried to write a book where this was the other way around, nobody would touch it. The PC Patrol would see to that. Just imagine it: say you have written a story where a girl is locked up in a tower or something never questioning anything about it until a man comes along and rescues her. You’d be eaten alive for proposing it! No one would dare touch it or you. Your career would be completely ruined. You would never be published again, never invited to or even allowed inside a convention, and never be nominated for an award.

This has happened to literally every other author who’s been labeled a misogynist by the SJW bullies, and it would happen to you if you tried to write a story like that.

As you might guess from how he meekly accepts his fate, the hero is a delta male at BEST. When he is rejected by the little girl’s mother for not having a button on his suspenders, he sets off at night to find it. Why should he have to improve himself to please her, though? It’s not like the girl was anything great, even if her mother thinks her precious little angel is too good to pay department store prices for broken toys. Feminism has women convinced that they should be allowed to let themselves go but still get whatever man they want. The sexual economy has been completely thrown out of balance by feminism and that is why the birth rates are declining.

So while the miserable little cuck is stumbling around the department store, he keeps deciding that whatever happens to him is exactly what he wanted. He stumbles onto the escalator. “Oh, I guess I wanted this?” he says to himself, until he believes it. He winds up in the furniture department. I remind you, he was looking for a button that fell off his suspenders. That’s not going to be in the furniture department. But he takes a look around and decides, “Oh, this is where I ended up so I guess it’s where I wanted to be?”

The lesson here is passive surrender. If you wind up married to some skank who doesn’t lift a finger because feminism taught her that she deserves to be up on a pedestal popping out squalling babies while you work to support her, it must be what you wanted or else it wouldn’t have happened.

I take it back. This bear isn’t even a delta male. He’s a full-on gamma. His sad little quest ends in a pathetic anticlimax as the night security guard—a proper man—literally puts him back in his place, where he stays until the girl comes for him.

And then the little girl does come back and buys him, and sews a button on him anyway. The Feminazis talk about agency, but where’s his agency in all of this? He never found his button. He never got a chance to be a man. Instead he needed the girl to “fix” him, playing mind games on him all the while.

“I like you just the way you are,” the temptress coos, “but I’m sure you’d be more comfortable if you let me, oh, I don’t know… change everything about you.”

And of course he succumbs. Even after seeing the palatial inside of the department store, he looks around her tiny matchbox of an apartment bedroom and decides he’s happy to be there. He was better off where he was. If he would have stopped looking for his button to please a girl when he decided he wanted to stay in the furniture department, he could be living there like a king to this very day. Women trick men into thinking that we need them to hide the truth that it is they who are dependent on us. Take the red pill and wake up.

What the Corduroy should have done is refused to change anything. Play it cool. Let the girl know that he doesn’t need her, and then she would have been the one changing for him. This works on every woman. Don’t believe me? Try it. It doesn’t matter if you try it on a hundred different women or even a thousand different women, eventually one of them will probably go home with you. Then you’ll be a believer.

There is one other issue with this book that I know the SJWs will never forgive me for bringing up, and that’s race. I was taught that all men are equal and I don’t even notice the color of a person’s skin. When I look at a person I only see the content of their character. If I cross the street or put my hand on my wallet when I see someone, it’s because I don’t like the content of their character and no one can prove otherwise. Accusing me of racism without proof means that you are the racist.

So what I want to know is why the little girl and her mother in this book can’t just be white like everyone else. There’s no reason for it. The story never even mentions it. They just show up, without a word of warning or explanation, like this is a normal thing that happens. I was trying to read a book about a walking, self-aware stuffed animal and suddenly there’s all this extra side stuff it wants me to swallow without explanation. We’re just supposed to accept it without question, I guess.

It’s even more jarring because I was reading the bear as white and I can’t think of any reason why that would be if he’s not deliberately written that way. It’s not that I have anything against children of one race playing with stuffed animals of another. I just can’t imagine why it’s here if not to push an agenda that doesn’t belong in a children’s book.

Understand that my problem is not the race of the characters. I personally didn’t even notice their race. My problem is that it doesn’t make any sense. The SJWs made the decision to insert race into this book, probably because they knew it would be divisive. It’s straight out of the Saul Alinksy-type playbook that they all follow.

I’m sure when this book was published back in 1968, right when we had just decided to give everyone civil rights, this kind of PC pandering was a no-brainer for the marketing types. Well, I’m not about to give a book points just because it checks off the right boxes in a demographic checklist. I judge books on quality and merit, not the skin color of the characters. I don’t even notice such things.

Two stars.

Sad Puppies Review Books: MADELINE


Reviewed by John Z. Upjohn, USMC (Aspired)

Let me cut right to the chase: Madeline is some straight-up misandrist Feminazi SJW bullshit.

It starts off right away talking about twelve little girls in two straight lines. Seriously? Twelve characters introduced in a single page and we’re supposed to believe they all just happen to be girls? Not one of them is a boy? Last time I checked half the human race was male. So what are the odds that twelve people in a row—or two rows—will be female?

Listen, I’ve studied statistics. The odds that one character will be a female are 50%, no matter what any SJW wants to tell you. Science doesn’t come any harder than numbers. That’s why SJWs hate dealing with them. Numbers are not susceptible to feelings. You cannot “transgenderqueer” a number away just because you don’t like it.

50% is not very high, but high enough that if there’s occasionally a female character somewhere we can allow that it’s still a bit realistic. Take Black Widow in the Avengers movies. There are six main characters, so if you want to say that okay, well, there’s a 50% chance that one of them will be a female, so we can go ahead and make one of them a female to placate the SJWs, that’s fine. Not that they’ll actually be placated. To hear them go on, it seems they won’t be satisfied until half the characters on the screen are females!

So if the author wanted to make one of those twelve characters a girl, so be it. But two in a row? The odds drop to 25%. Three? 12.5%. Four? 6.25%. Five? 3.125%. Six? 1.5625%. By the time we get to the second line of girls, the odds of what we’re seeing have dropped to less than one percent.

You know what the odds of all twelve being girls are? Less than one in four thousand. That’s how unlikely this little fantasy scenario the author has concocted is.

I don’t know if the SJWs really don’t understand math or just think that we don’t, but this cannot be a coincidence. The author deliberately chose to make this whole boarding school female on purpose and no one said a word. No one stood up to say it was wrong. The editor didn’t stop it. The publisher didn’t stop it. The corrupt journos who reviewed the book didn’t say boo against it. Meanwhile no one has ever published a book set at an all-boy’s school. The powers that be would never allow it. They’d call it “sexism” and “patriarchy”.

Also, SJWs are such hypocrites. If anybody outside of their little protected circle tried to write this book they would be eaten alive for saying the lines are straight and not “LGBTQ” or whatever the PC term is these days.

I’ll be honest, I had a hard time engaging with this book after the opening lines. My suspension of disbelief was shattered. There was no one for me to identify with. It was like the author had written across every page “JOHN Z. UPJOHN, THIS BOOK IS NOT FOR YOU. PEOPLE LIKE YOU DON’T GET BOOKS. PEOPLE LIKE YOU ARE THE BAD GUY, IF YOU EXIST AT ALL.”

I read books to enjoy good stories, not to be hit over the head with messages even if it is a message I agree with. I should pay my own money and spend my time reading a book that spreads a message that is against me? No, thank you!

In the interest of a fair review, I made myself flip through the rest anyway. What I picked up is that the character of Madeline is everything that Feminazis say they want in a “strong female character”, as we are told from the beginning that she’s not afraid of anything, including mice and a tiger in the zoo.

Are we supposed to impressed? Mice aren’t scary and the tiger is clearly in a cage. Does anyone think this precious little snowflake would have lasted five seconds against that tiger in a real fight? Hell no! She wouldn’t have. Not even five seconds and that’s the truth this book takes such pains to conceal from you.

SJWs want us to believe that women are just as strong as any man but then they stage this kind of ridiculous pantomime where we’re supposed to be impressed that they aren’t frightened of zoo animals. But it is the SJWs who are sexist against women by suggesting women should be afraid of caged animals and tiny rodents.

Anyway, it seems like Madeline isn’t such a “strong female character” when her appendix gets inflamed! She cries like a little girl, and guess what? That’s right, a MAN comes to her rescue. The doctor makes the diagnosis but the book still carries on like men don’t matter as he doesn’t appear once she’s at the hospital, even though two different nurses do (again, that’s only a 25% chance).

So who took out her appendix? No one important enough to mention, I guess! In the hands of a competent author, the doctor would have been the hero of this book. But I guess that would be ~*misogyny*~ and the SJWs at the American Library Association would never have made this a Caldecott Honor Book.

Caldecott Honor, what a joke! As long as the SJW clique is in charge there will be no honor in the Caldecotts.

Then ten days pass and suddenly out of nowhere Madeline has all these toys and candy. Some of it came from “Papa”. Between that and the swanky private school I think we can say that Madeline is another privileged trust fund baby typical of the SJW set. Her hair’s probably dyed, too. They all dye their hair these ridiculous sherbet colors for no reason, with no regard for how much less attractive it is to me.

She probably set up up a Patreon account for the rest of the swag we see, crying about how victimized she was by the tiger and the evil doctor man who dared to touch her. She clearly loves the attention, as the first thing she does when her friends visit is to show off her belly scar like a total tramp.

I only respect scars forged in battle. Surgical scars are like the caged tigers of battle wounds.

And what do you suppose happens in the end? Why, suddenly all her friends claim to have appendicitis, too! Why wouldn’t they when they saw all the sweet hand-outs Madeline got just for fluttering her eyelashes and shedding a lot of crocodile tears and showing off her belly?

If you ask me, the whole thing calls into question whether Madeline really needed or even had an appendectomy to begin with, or if she was just angling for some of those sweet victim bucks from the word go. Once someone starts accepting toys and candy and flowers for being sick, they have a fiduciary duty to disclose certain details to make sure things are on the level. That’s why real charities have oversight and accountability.

If I had contributed to Madeline’s hospital room, I would want to see the chart. I would be curious why we never saw her with a doctor after she arrived. I would demand an accounting of exactly what happened during the ten days that passed between when she was dropped off and when her friends visited.

This book teaches women to see themselves as victims. Even if Madeline’s so-called bravery at the beginning of the book is a hollow lie, it’s only when she starts bawling that she has anything to show for it. Nobody brings her a dollhouse for pooh-poohing a tiger. Nobody gives her candy for taking risks.

No, she plays the victim card and is rewarded and her friends all learn the lesson: here is the easy money. Be careful your kids don’t learn the same lesson. This book is basically an Alinsky-style rulebook for the rainbow-haired she-twinks of Twitter and Tumblr.

Two stars.


Editor’s Note: Madeline does not, to my knowledge, have a Patreon account, but I do:

If you’d like to support my fiction, poetry, and—yes—humor writings, please do so. As these reviews have attracted more attention, I’ve had to upgrade my webhosting.

Thank you for reading!

<3 AE

Sad Puppies Review Books: GREEN EGGS AND HAM

green eggs and hamGreen Eggs and Ham

Reviewed by John Z. Upjohn, USMC (Aspired)

I just noticed that my editor is titling these pieces “Sad Puppies Review Books” and while she says that the title has stuck I wish to make it clear it was not my idea and I do not approve of it. SJWs try to make it out that we are sad because they believe everything is about emotions and not reason. That makes me so angry I can’t even think straight.

We of the Sad Puppies campaign are not actually sad and we are not actually puppies. The puppies are a metaphor, and while I do not approve of metaphors in general the puppies are a good metaphor because we can say the puppies are sad whenever things we don’t like are allowed to happen, and no one can say that we are sad ourselves.

We aren’t sad. The puppies are. We’re not crying. The SJWs are crying. Got it?

Symbolism is an SJW weapon and they don’t like it when we use their own tactics against them. The salt in their tears nourishes me when they cry out, “John, that’s not how symbolism works.” I had a bullying SJW bitch of an English teacher who said the same thing. Cry harder, Mrs. Vandroogenbroeck. You can’t hold me after class anymore.

If I was a puppy and not a man, I might be crying after I read Green Eggs and Ham. This book is pretty much an illustrated Saul Alinksy-style Rules For Radicals manual for the kindergarten SJW set. The hero of the book is an unnamed, but proud revolutionary figure in full-on revolt against a tyrannical bullying Big Brother type who calls himself Sam-I-Am.

Sam-I-Am is a finger-wagging scold who thinks he knows better than everyone else when it comes to what’s good eating. Just as the SJWs try to convince us that stories that are not good stories are good stories by lying and saying they are good stories, Sam-I-Am tries to convince the hero that bad food is good to eat.

Well if you know anything about the gynocentric lesbian supremacist branch of Satanism that calls itself “Wiccanism”, think SAMHAIN and you will know who this man really is: Satan, the father of lies and son of Saul Alinksy.

And talking about the granddaddy of lies, this book has some whoppers in it. Just like how 1984 shows the power of The (Communist, AKA Social Justice) Party to compel Winston Smith to say that there are five lights when there are only four, this book hinges on the Satanic Sam-I-Am trying to force the narrator to accept that green eggs and ham are a natural and nutritious food. He accomplishes this by gradually wearing down the man’s resistance by exposing him to stressful shocking and even unnatural situations involving foxes and goats. This is a classic SJW tactic for shifting our culture to the left so slow you almost don’t notice it. But we notice it. We notice it.

Sadly much like 1984 this book ends with the protagonist giving in before the onslaught. He does love Big Brother. He does like green eggs and ham. He will eat them with the fox. In a perverse mockery of holy communion, he will eat them with the goat (like Pan or Baphomet, or other guises worn by Satan). This is preparing our children to have not just their food supplies controlled but also their minds and very souls.

A child indoctrinated by this book is not only trained to give in to the illegitimate application of government authority but is also primed to use these techniques to convince others. Unless your children are strong-willed and well-trained to recognize these tricks and traps I recommend keeping this book the hell away from them.

If you have raised your children right as I have done with mine then your best bet is to take a hands-on approach. I read this book to my children, taking care to explain the subtle SJW traps that were on every page. I am pleased to report that they showed no interest in it afterwards.

I think it will be a long time before any of them bring home a book by this joker, who has written numerous SJW propaganda hatchet jobs. The very title of Hop on Pop is a matriarchal assault on male authority. The Sneetches and Other Stories is a fable about the extinction of the white race due to targeted immigration and interbreeding. His books are about the political obsolescence of the straight white male and he is so shameless he doesn’t even bother to hide it.

If what was being done to us was being done to any other race they would call it genocide but if I say “keep the white race pure!” suddenly I am the one who is a racist? The Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King Junior would have wanted people who believe the races should be separate judged by the contents of our characters, not the colors of our skins, but SJWs preach that because I am a proud white man I must be the enemy. That is the lesson that this “Dr.” Seuss would teach my children, if I let him. So I do not let him teach them it!

If my sarcasm quotes were not apparent enough, let me speak plainly (unlike those two-faced SJWs, who always lie): I don’t believe the author is any kind of doctor. I don’t even believe his name really is “Seuss”. In fact, I think I know exactly it was who pinned this little propaganda tract.

Nice try, Alinsky. Better luck next time!

Two stars.

The Essential Truth of Vox Day

A while back, I challenged any Puppy on Twitter to show that they really valued truth and honesty and factual reality as so many claim by acknowledging that the idea—widely promoted by Vox Day, including with a made-up quote—that David Gerrold had threatened the career of Brad Torgersen was not supported by facts. I asked them to either cite Gerrold doing so or label Day’s pronouncement a lie.

No one did. When pressed, one person said he couldn’t call it a lie because he felt that what Day had said was “essentially true”. He couldn’t cite facts or quotes, but it was “essentially true”. Its essence was true, or at least, it rang true to him.

Now, in fact-based reality, David Gerrold did not threaten Brad Torgersen. He did not imply that Puppies wouldn’t be welcome at Worldcon or the Hugos ceremony in particular, or that they would be treated discourteously as winners or losers. In fact, when it came to the ceremony, he laid down the law in the opposite direction: all are welcome, all are welcome. Connie Willis turned down a presenter gig specifically because she didn’t feel like she could abide that directive.

But if he didn’t do those things, the feeling among the Puppies is, he ought to have. It fits their worldview, their narrative, so much better if he did, so it doesn’t take much prompting from even a middlingly talented wordsmith to get them to believe that he did.

“If it’s not true, it ought to be!” could be given as a summation of it.

I’ve been calling Day out obliquely (as in, I’m not challenging him directly so much as pointing out what he’s doing) on Twitter for a while, whenever he engages in these lies. I don’t know if I’ve actually made anyone think by doing so, but I believe he’s afraid that might be happening. I mean, I don’t flatter myself to believe his blog post entitled Bi-Discoursality is entirely a response to me. Rather, I believe I’m a part of the general situation he is attempting to defend himself from.

Day’s supporters like to trot out “You don’t understand Vox, he’s a troll. He’s trolling. It doesn’t count.” when someone pins them down with something he said that is 1) too egregious, 2) too much of a lie, or 3) too egregious a lie for them to defend. This response ignores the fact that we do understand him, we know he’s a troll, and that’s irrelevant to the point at hand.

Well, Day is attempting to codify “Was trolling, didn’t count!” into a defensive shell against people calling out his lies. See, they’re not lies, they’re rhetoric, which is the only language those silly emotional irrational SJWs understand, you see? He has to use rhetoric to deal with, even though as a creature of pure logic and reason it’s such a foreign language to him that if he wasn’t also a certified supergenius he would never have been able to internalize its principles in order to communicate with us!

He would much rather use the reasoned method of dialectic to communicate with everyone, except he has to reserve that for those minds that are susceptible to reason and influence, you see, and…



Wait a minute.

Vox… Mr. Day… when you said “SJWs always lie.”, the example of a rhetorical statement that you put forth in that post, were you addressing us, those you call “SJWS”… or were you addressing your followers?

When you made your famous essentially true statements about David Gerrold, were you trying to convince those wily SJWs they were allied with a skunk, or were you trying to whip up your own base?

And regardless of your intention when you engage in these, ah, rhetorical flourishes… take a look around. How many of supposedly overly emotional, irrational SJWs that you claim to be trying to persuade with them wind up being persuaded? And how many of your own followers wind up repeating the lines and running with them like they’re God’s own truth?

God’s own essential truth, that is. The facts may not bear it out, but emotionally, the target of the rhetoric knows it to be true.

The post I’m referencing is itself a piece of rhetoric. It lays out no actual logical premise, no evidence, and no conclusion. It’s just a pre-emptive defense against anyone questioning his lies, wrapped up in hollow flattery towards his audience: you are so reasoned, so rational… and because I’m writing this dialectically, anyone as smart as you will understand that it is true! It’s a hedge against the day when the intellectual debt incurred by one of his lies overcomes the emotional investment his chosen audience has in agreeing with him.

He winds up the post by predicting that those who only speak rhetoric will see his post as nothing more than a man attempting to sound smart and then attack it. I suppose that, grade school gamer that he is, this is what he regards as a particular cunning trap and he takes this post as a sign that it worked. Or that’s what he would say, anyway.

In reality, it’s just another hedge. It gives his followers an out for ignoring any criticism. Don’t listen to the child who says the emperor is naked. The wise can totally see the clothes!



The Monster at the End of this Book

Reviewed by John Z. Upjohn, USMC (Aspired)

I remember when the cover of a book used to mean something. When you could look at the cover of a book and know exactly what you were getting. If you saw a gleaming chrome spaceship over the shoulder of an intrepid, chiseled explorer holding a ray gun, you didn’t even have to buy the book and read it because you knew exactly what the story would be just by looking at it. But you bought it anyway! And you read it, and liked it! Because that book was an objectively good book, and you knew it by looking at it.

People used to know how to tell stories back then. They knew which plot was the good plot, and they used that plot. They knew what dialogue was supposed to sound like. Sometimes I buy a book today and the dialogue is different than in other books. People, if I wanted different dialogue, I’d read something else. Stop signs. Trees, maybe. I don’t know. Not books! Books are supposed to be one way, not another way.

The cover of The Monster at the End of This Book is full of false promises and overblown hype, just like a woman. I remember when if a book told you that there was a monster in it, you knew what you were getting. There would be a hero who didn’t make any namby-pamby wishy-washy apologies for being a hero. There would be a princess or dame or broad of some description and she would be beautiful and love the hero after saying many times that she doesn’t, because he loved her and love conquers any objection.

There wouldn’t be any of this pandering PC crap that people spout just to get cred with the in-crowd. I know we all hate that, right? Pandering, right? It’s awful, right, when people pander? When they just say what they know is safe and popular, just repeat what their audience wants to hear? Well, I for one have the guts to stand up in front of an audience of people who hate that, and say that I hate it, too, and I don’t care who in my intended audience knows it!

The cover of this book promises a monster, which implies there’s going to be a battle. But there’s no battle. There is barely even a monster! Just some blue gamma male wimp who begs and pleads with you to stop reading the book on every page.

Looking at the obviously inflated Amazon reviews I can only conclude that a number of weak-willed liberal readers gave in to this blue cuck’s loathsome SJW bullying tactics and stopped reading before the disappointing reveal. Of course this doesn’t stop them from lavishing it with glowing reviews. These people care only about politics and demographics, not merit or value.

Well, I read it all the way to the end. The last thing you want to do is tell this red-blooded American he mustn’t do something or shouldn’t read something because I believe in the first amendment and I will read whatever the hell I want.

So I can tell you that according to the last page, the blue wimp is the monster. Allegedly. Typical self-flagellating gamma male posturing. Don’t you know that ALL men are monsters according to the Feminazis? Agreeing with this sexist sentiment is the only way a pathetic gamma male like this “Grover” character (named after Demo(n)cRAT president Grover Cleveland, I suppose) has of getting laid. I got news for you, Quisling: your complicity will not save you. The foundation of all modern feminism is in gender abolition radical feminism.

I did some digging and it turns out this book was produced by an entity called the “Children’s Television Workshop” and now known as the “Sesame Street Workshop”. Well, if you consider that children are tiny people, you might get a better name for it: People’s Television Workshop. This indoctrination factory produces books and television shows and movies and games for your children using your tax dollars. They air their main shows on PBS (or as I like to call it, “Public BS”), in case you needed any proof of the socialist agenda that underpins this thing. They’re targeting your children The whole thing is straight out of a Saul Alinksy Rules For Radicals-style playbook.

Also, apparently this Grover character is a Muppet. A family entertainer like Jim Henson must be turning over in his grave to know that his creations have been turned to a leftist political purpose.

Misandry and the promotion of a culture of fear and illiteracy are what you get if you buy this book. Since I already have a copy, I’ve decided to give it to my kids just so they know what they’re up against. I am pleased to report that they have read it through a dozen times and show no signs of stopping now. They laugh when the blue gamma cuck tells them to stop reading. They laugh right in his stupid, weak face. You hear that, Saul Alinksy? Your little gambit failed! What was supposed to be an indoctrination manual for the left turned out to be a training ground for those who love freedom! We the living read what we want, and we don’t stop just because some emasculated Feminazi puppet-man tells us to.

Two stars.