The Journal of Provincial Thought
Hex Libris

Roll Tide, by Officer Crenson Tide, Metro P.D.                                                           

True story of Officer Tide’s undercover work as an inebriated late-night Metro Transit passenger, in a far-reaching investigation of robberies by rogue transit drivers.  Tide actually was rolled by Transit personnel on three different routes, each time losing his wallet, badge, and concealed handgun, before one night feigning inebriation and conducting the operation while sober.  The resulting bust broke the back of a notorious route-robbery ring and earned Officer Tide departmental and mayoral approval.   

Let’s Roll: Ultimate Betrayal, by Raffle Cramden, former Metro Transit driver

Memoirs of  bus driver convicted of robbing his inebriated passengers and organizing a route-robbery ring within the ranks of Metro’s most punctual.  Cramden’s irreverent, witty accounts of big scores, super-duper bonanzas, washouts and close calls, and his gift for tongue-in-cheek travesties of penance and reform, make for zesty commuter reading with inescapable social implications.  —Rated “dire” by Predictionz, Inc.

Hurry Home Everydog, by Mansil Oraheen, spiritual guide

When 6-yr. old Adnard “accidentally” bumps his puppy Everydog off a suspension bridge, he cannot come to grips with the tragic aftermath, and enters a state of profound psychosis and reality displacement.  He cannot tell his parents about the incident, which his conscious mind disowns.  Before supper, his loving mother Mynana watches in concern through the kitchen window as Adnard, hands covering his little eyes, cries poignantly, “Hurry home, Everydog!  Hurry home!”  At supper, Adnard’s one-handed father Maynard-Axol finds rough sledding as he tries to get his son to focus on particulars, but part of Adnard seems trapped in a deep, dark place.  After supper. . . !  Author Oraheen skillfully draws out the lessons of life at work when children kill pets, and offers youngsters practical if not optimistic insights into the sheer destructiveness of guilt and progressive insanity.     —Recommended by authorities.    

I Paid for This? Be a No-Toller, Vol. 3,   by Bernard Calliope                        

Himself a driver and veteran victim of the tollways of New Jersey and points in between, Mr. Calliope begins with one emphatic question:  Why should you be stuck paying for an unacceptable toll drive?!  “If beer tastes bad,” he smiles, “you send it back.”  Pulling together years of experiences with monster stretches of jarring, wear-and-tear “pavement” and heated encounters at the “booths of bureaucratic greed” that pop up with the frequency and unwelcomeness of turnpike pimples, Calliope offers up yet another goldmine of refund-seeking demands and ploys to send against all but the most stonefaced of toll collectors.  Asked about the success history of his gambits, Mr. Calliope explains that these are all-new methodologies to which collectors will not have developed defenses; he therefore estimates “an extraordinary degree of efficacy that should persist until the release of my next volume sometime next year.”  Success statistics for his earlier volumes are no longer available, says the author, but he recalls that “we were all quite pleased.” 

No Horse Too Small or Cute:  The Glue Factories of Early Nineteenth Century Allegheny, PA.  by Brannahan Jobbick

A veritable Tour-de-France of the industry that held together a young nation.             

Nurse, Git Me My Britches!  by  Lester Gozzlin, M.D.

There comes a point where hospital red tape and irritation tell an ol’ country boy it’s time to skeedaddle.  In a rare personal look from the other side of the bed, noted brain and eye surgeon turned hernia patient Gozzlin discovers what those of us outside medical science have always known:  you gotta sleep; people need to listen the first time you give them your life history, for sure the second or third; and just because you can’t get up and drag some help away from the nurses’ station doesn’t mean you can’t frisbee a loaded bedpan out into the hall.  Laugh and cry with Dr. Gozzlin, who managed to draft this special book amid the turmoil and discomforts of confinement; and gleen a pensive sense of how and why the end of his ordeal saw him in cold storage with a tag on his toe.   

The Great Lies of the Great Wars, by  Corobborus Verigan, truth historian

Forget Lexington and Baghdad, Bull Run and Vietnam, WWI and WWII, and all the other noted battles and defining wars you thought you knew:  your history books lied!  The truth, Mr. Verigan asserts in this his latest assault upon the “bastions and bastards of deception,” is that New York publishers of history texts have for two hundred years sucessfully conspired to pander garbage to a public that is addicted to insanity and is steered by spoiled and lazy harlequins.  Why?  According to Mr. Verigan, profit from sales of history books runs into the trillions of dollars annually, far surpassing that of the pharmaceutical, insurance and oil industries combined.  Pharmaceuticals face huge research overhead and secret expenditures for thought-control experimentation; insurance has to pay claims such as the millions asserted in the recent Katrina hoax.  And most onerous of all, says Verigan, oil companies find themselves saddled with making sure everyone in federal and state governments is having a good time.  The text publishers, on the other hand, spend nothing on research, claims, or patronage.  Their product is generated in-house, straight from the imaginations of twenty or thirty minimum-wage graduate geeks normally charged with little more than writing in a couple of “recent discoveries” from time to time.  For big new projects (an Afghanistan war, e.g.), they’ll bring in a compromised professor and put him on the clock.

             “Corobbie Verigan just might know more than anyone else about great deceptions.” 

                        —Antoinette Verigan Looker, formerly in academics  

Turds of the Tarmac:  Ideas in Aviation that Never Got Off the Ground,  by Col. Gary Greatleg     

—no review, by author’s request

The Shocking Truth Series:   The Shocking Truth About Temperatures in a Locked Car     , by Dr. Peamore Satanni, PhD., PhD, PhD, MD, JD, LLD, DDS, DD 

New research conducted by Dr. Satanni Esq. shows that temperatures in a locked car can rise to levels far beyond those in the same car with all the doors still closed but unlocked.  Dr. Satanni Esq. says the results are conclusive, and they are alarming.  In the most persuasive tests to date, Dr. Satanni Esq. and an Hispanic male assistant placed a thermometer on the dashboard of a 1941 Studebaker Champ Cpe, windows up, and locked the doors.  Returning an hour later, they found an internal temperature of 297˚F, give or take a margin of error, while the temperature outside was much less.  Then, the scientists unlocked the doors, closed them, and went to a little gathering for one of the retiring fellows who invented CO2.  When they returned to examine and make a few findings, the thermometer was gone; but clearly, nobody could have picked up a thermometer registering as high as 297˚F.  Dr. Satanni Esq. performed subsequent tests that effectively ruled out the possibility of gloves or tongs having been used to lift the thermometer from its repose.  But in even more alarming investigations, Dr. Satanni Esq. discovered a phenomenon that could shake the conventional wisdom of automotive thermodynamics to its knees or conceivably its roots.  While normal sunroasting inside a closed vehicle has been observed to cook an egg, Dr. Satanni Esq. reports that transient microspikes in temperature along windshield glass, for fractions of seconds registering temperatures as high as 1,000˚ Kelvin (a unit of measure more technical, more gristy than Fahrenheit), raise the possibility of one day cooking—yes, and burning--an entire Thanksgiving dinner while parked at marriage counseling.  But Dr. Satanni Esq. cautions that such applications, if possible, are years if not millennia away.  Meanwhile, he warns parents who opt to leave pets and small children inside locked cars without air conditioning to make sure they are restrained so as to avoid all contact with the windshield or side glass.  The latter siliconage has not as yet been associated with transient microspikes (“sick mickies”), but Dr. Satanni Esq. theorizes phenomena similar to that found in windshields.  “Little brains could be popped in the bat of an eye,” advises the scientist.

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books for brains on hold reviewed as a grim public service
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Obscurity Inutility
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