Tongued by Satan is at Amazon!

Pitch, “The absolute final word on J.D. Vance, Barbara Butch, persistent Satanism, the disappearance of the American heavyweight, death of reading, how to read, cyclos, best septic Olympics, Malaparte, Goujian, free face love, Tocqueville on race, Ben-Gurion as "armed prophet" and Ho Chi Minh for children.”

Table of Contents:

Torn Ears, Glazed Eyes, Stinking Mouths 
USA Still Competitive Against South Sudan! 
J.D. Vance, Hillbilly Among Vipers 
Satanic 69 Going Down 
Tongued by Satan 
Sweeter Ways 
Rape Isn't Bread and Circus 
Sorry, Love  
Play Where You Are  
The Chief Glory of Every People Arises from Its Authors  
How To Read 
Sex, Spectator Sports and Riots 
Cyclo Drivers 
Best Septic Olympics 
Hoarders of Impressions 
Whore Degrees 
Lying Whores 
Forever Sidewalk, Alley, Cafe and Corner Bar Culture
We're All (Still) Living in Amerika! 
Puissant Pussies Ready for War?
Worse Food, Worse People, Worse Life  Free Face Love 
Reading Pockets, Polka Dots, Bad English, Buttons and Hem Lines
Dada Revival in Deflated West 
Ever Growing Evil? 
Love Me Some Ben-Gurion!
Fragments Imperfectly Remembered As Related By Unreliable or Dishonest Narrators For Inattentive, Drugged or Dumbed Down Readers Plugged to Drill Rap While Perched on Cans
Suicide by a Thousand Cuts Elsewhere

Though all these pieces have been published at SubStack, book versions tend to be longer. Below, for example, is what’s been added to the end of “Love Me Some Ben-Gurion!”:

Kevin Barrett, “Low-grade Zio schlock aimed at middlebrow audiences gets mega manufacturing & distribution. That’s why it’s so easy to find cheap or free copies of Leon Uris, bad Ben Gurion bios, etc. in used bookstores and library and garage sales. Even in Vietnam!” No one can lie or spread lies like Jews, with the second even more important.

If Uncle Ho knew he could kindle his cig in the kitchen, why did he look for a match, only to reject it? Careful now, let’s not engage in Cig Kindle Denial. Remember the Holocaust!

It’s possible Uncle was always performing. He had to pretend to look for a match. Had Ho just walked into the kitchen, the cook wouldn’t have had a legend to relate. What if cook after cook failed to be impressed, so told no one? No sweat! Performing had become second nature to Ho, so required no extra effort. Even alone, Ho performed. It’s no rehearsal, but a nuanced and masterful performance each second, as if thousands were watching. Lying in darkness, Ho performed as he slipped fitfully into sleep, then again before dawn as he emerged from it. If just one out of ten cooks, soldiers, street sweepers or kindergarteners was mesmerized, my legend would grow. Alone, he smiled. Further, handfuls of similar stories, scattered over decades, would prove to posterity that here was a consistent, steadfast and entirely honest man, so no poser or performer.

At Bạch Đằng, two boys sat on cushioned seats to read. One had a large bandage on his forehead. A touch of blood, dried brown, had seeped through. It'd be too easy to think a wrong book had caused his head injury. Most books are wrong.

I need to get my writing in print because the internet, although ubiquitous and seemingly eternal, can suddenly disappear, if only regionally or partially. More likely, all of it will go poof!

Three of eleven black and white photos in book: