Review: Going Rogue: An American Life.
Rambling to transcriber: Sarah Palin.
Published By: HarperCollins – shame on you!
Copyright? Why bother stealing lies?
By Bobby D. the Crow as told to Kelly Mahan Jaramillo, Nov. 27th, 2009
If, my loyal fans, you have been to the main page, you are aware that I have no intention of reviewing this pile of dog-shit. I decided to make use of it, since it was in the house, and I needed to make a statement. I am refusing to highlight the title, above, any more than my contract requires me to.
Before you enjoy the pictorial, below, there is a wonderful person who really hurt part of her brain reading Going Rogue for all of us, and summarizing it with some very fun commentary. The Bird tips his beak to J.D. of The Mudflats.
You will have to understand that J.D. needs to take a few breaks, but the link I have given you should start you on your journey from the purchasing of the book to the end. The Bird really hopes his friend J.D. is doing okay.
Here is how the Bird felt, and what he did, about “Going Rogue”.
Rip. It. To. Shreds.
Then, relieve self on it.
More ripping. It must be made unrecognizable.
Relieve self again, then stomp through the whole pile, creating mulch.
Mulch is perfected, put into plants, The Bird can relax. His job is finished.
I did not want to deal with this travesty, I refuse to call it a book, however, I respect my employer, I respect my fans, and ultimately, the Bird has to stay current and fair, and review everything that comes across his desk.
If my employer is as smart as I think, the next book I get to review will be one of the worst books ever written. After going through Palin’s giant sack of crazy talk today, the next book gets an automatic A+ from the Bird.
I have to go take a long bath now. My beak hurts. That was rough. I earned my chicken this evening, no doubt about it.
CAW! CAW!
Bobby OUT!
Review: “Not By Accident”
Author: Samantha Dunn.
Published By: Henry Holt and Company LLC
Copyright 2002 by Samantha Dunn
By Bobby D. the Crow as told to Kelly Mahan Jaramillo, Nov. 9th, 2009
Once again,my patient crow fans, the Bird wants to apologize for this page not fitting into the “bi-weekly” category. It has been a hectic week, where the Bird has had to do much multi-tasking, as the Humans are, as usual, busy. Hrumph.
The full title of this book is “Not By Accident – Reconstructing A Careless Life.”
The Bird picked this book up while recovering from my own accident, which resulted in my left wing being half severed. The Bird was intrigued, as the book takes place in Los Angeles, where I was hurt, and reading while recuperating, and I thought it might help me feel better, not being the only being in the city unable to be mobile. I guess misery does love company, but in this case, I was getting more than I bargained for.
Author Samantha Dunn cuts right to the chase in the first chapter, leading the reader along as she is taking her horse out for a ride up into the Malibu hills, along a trail she has wanted to explore for some time. She is anxious to escape her house, as there are piles of bills to deal with, and a letter from her landlord informing her that he is selling the house, she and her husband have thirty days to leave.
She needs to clear her head, and as we are dreamily lazing along with her on her beautiful ride, she comes to a small creek, which causes her horse, Harley, to balk. She teases him for being a sissy, noting that Thoroughbreds are, by definition, nervous horses.
Rather than stay in the saddle and negotiate him crossing the creek, she dismounts, taking the reins to lead him across. She is wearing new paddock boots, and does not want to get them wet, so she skips over the water.
Suddenly she is flung forward, dirt in her mouth. Harley has been startled, and reared forward, knocking her down. He is standing over her as she rolls over, and sees his belly quivering above her, dripping sweat onto her face. She tries to reassure him, but he jerks away, and, in her words:
“I see the flash of the steel-shod hoof as it strikes downward. I hear the crack of something, loud as gunfire, and look to see my left leg snapped apart like dry kindling.
His hind hoof has just sliced the middle of my left shin, cutting like a dull shovel straight through the bones, the muscles, ligaments and veins, leaving a hinge of calf muscle and sinew.”
I was only on the third page, and I had to put the book down for a moment, as that visual was so strong for the Bird, bringing back memories of (something) biting into my wing, hearing my flight feathers being yanked out – I felt dizzy, but I had to continue reading. This was horrifying, riveting, and oh-too-familiar.
I remember the Mother telling her Brother at a small dinner they were having with her Brother, his Wife, the Parents, and an Old Friend, they were all listening breathlessly, and her Brother was so caught up in the story that he blurted out, “Did she live?” The table was silent, then everybody burst out laughing, including the Brother, when he remembered that Dunn had lived to tell the tale. It was a fun night.
However, the Mother’s Brother had a valid question, as Samantha Dunn is such a skilled memoirist, that as one is reading, you find yourself holding your breath, wondering if she is going to die. You completely forget that she is writing about herself. The Bird considers her writing pure genius.
She manages to inject wonderful moments of humor into this grim scene, and this sense of humor is most likely one her qualities that enabled her to hold on and live.
The Bird does not want to give too much of the story away, however, the turn the book takes is much more the core of the story than the actual accident. Dunn is bedridden for months, and in that time, she is unable to do what she has always done when faced with a difficult issue – run, escape. She has two choices, numb out on painkillers until she can go back to her normal life, if that ever happens, or she can take a good hard look inside and tally up how many “accidents” she has had through her life, and start piecing together what is lying underneath these constant mishaps, with this last one nearly killing her. Everybody, herself included, has always insisted she is just “accident-prone”. At this point, Dunn is not so sure.
Samantha Dunn is that rare Bird ( I consider her one of Us) who takes the reader on her inner journey without us once rolling our eyes at what could, in the hands of a lesser writer, be two hundred and forty one pages of irritating self-absorption. Beyond the brutal accident, her humor, her heartbreaking self honesty, and her determination keep her well out of the realm of self-involved, she is inviting us into the dark recesses of her psyche, where we are in for a big surprise – a startling look at our own stubborn blind spots, our own character flaws, our all-to-human-and-Crow selves.
The Bird loved this book, and highly recommends it. This is the one area the Mother and the Bird are in complete agreement – fact, when the Bird told the Mother about this book, the Mother went out and bought over twenty copies to give as gifts to friends, and often the occasional stranger in the street with whom she would strike up a conversation. She carried an extra copy in her purse for years.
Now that I have pulled it back out, what do you want to bet you will be getting a copy for Christmas?
This is what it looked like as I was perusing the bookshelf for my next review and spotted “Not By Accident”.
In the Bird's excitement, for a moment, he could almost fly......
I hope you have enjoyed the Bird’s review, and please feel free to leave any comments you may have about the review or the book, below.
CAW!
BOBBY OUT!!
Review: “Stuff White People Like”
Author: Christian Lander
Published By: Random House.
Copyright 2008 by Christian Lander.
By Bobby D. the Crow as told to Kelly Mahan Jaramillo, Oct. 28th, 2009
Hello, my patient crow fans, the Bird wants to apologize for how long it has taken to get this page up and running. As I am sure you probably guessed, it is the human’s fault, as is always the case. They had one simple little task to do – get a microphone, record and type out my review. That it is. I have been nagging and nagging, but there is always “something more important”.
Like my latest post – running off to New York in the middle of the night for Lord-knows-what.
I have requested my own computer, so I am not a prisoner to their schedule, and that is turning into a distinct possibility - I have nagged non-stop, and I think I am starting to wear them down. Crow – almost ONE! Humans – ZERO!
The subject of humans is what pushed me to pick my first book to review. As you can see below, it was not an easy decision. Let me start by saying – I review whatever I feel like reviewing – a book, and not necessarily a new book, magazines, articles, and blogs. Just to let you know, this is not a “Book of the Month” club. I am not Oprah, I am a Crow, with little time and limited resources. Just to be clear.
I've had a bite, a nice beverage, and now it is time to relax and read.
However, I feel my choice was timely, both personally and professionally. I chose Christian Lander’s “Stuff White People Like.”
Oh, and ignore the “click to look inside” business at the top over there – another favor the humans put on the back burner was to take a nice photograph of the book cover, so I had to to pull this off of the Internet. With these two, the Bird is forced to get creative.
This book, written in 2008, started out as a blog, where, if you enjoyed the book as much as I did, you can continue your adventures reading the “Stuff White People Like” blog. The comments get really, really out there.
This is a funny book, although you may hear cries – NOT caws, of racism, I did not find anything racist about it. Social elbowing, status climbing, sure, but no racism. I thought it was funny as ganging up on a Falcon, but I have to admit, there is one area that had the Bird utterly flummoxed.
There is a test at the end of the book, to determine how “white” you are. Now, I am a black bird, and the humans who call themselves my parents are white. We all took the test, and somehow, it turns out, according to Mr Lander, that I am more white than them!
I am quite sure you are thinking this is not possible, as if you are a fan of my blog, you have seen pictures of both of them, and me. Well, here are a few of the major checklist questions:
The Bird Likes:
Coffee, Organic Food, Farmers Markets, Diversity, Barack Obama, Asian Girls, Nonprofit Organizations, Tea, Having Black Friends (well, YEAH) Yoga (do it 28 times a day, sometimes more) Gifted Children (if I had children, they would be totally gifted, I consider the cats my children, and they are incredibly gifted – much smarter than the humans. Just look at how they appreciate my decorating, below)
We were making collages. Really gorgeous stuff.
Hating My Parents (as you can tell), Awareness, International Travel (from L.A. to Pittsburgh – that’s as far as I am allowed), Netflix, Jon Stewart, Brunch, Indie music, Apple Products ( i have my own Ipod), Sushi, Public Radio, The Sunday New York Times (part of the collage, above), Vintage, Irony, Sarah Silverman (very cute, the Bird thinks), Kitchen Gadgets (great fun to use as emergency loo’s, if my Humans only had a few), Apologies, (HELL yes!), Lawyers, Marijuana, Natural Medicine, Expensive Sandwiches, Recycling, ’80’s Night, Threatening to move to Canada, Bottled Water, Scarves, Reusable Shopping Bags, Conspiracies, Avoiding Confrontation (why do you think I have this blog?), Not Having cash, Bakeries, Modern art Museums, Cheese, Rock Climbing, Dive Bars, Therapy……….really, this is an incomplete list, and I am already 80% white.
The Humans, on the other hand, are about 20% white. I won’t bore you with their list, except, yes, the mother has two last names, they go to film festivals (but only when they have a film in one, otherwise they avoid them like the plague) and the whole Barack Obama issue? I am going to let you all in on a little secret – they voted for Dennis Kucinich.
Yeah. This guy. They just wear their Obama stickers and pins and stuff so they “fit in” and can argue politics without being dismissed as nuts.
They drink tap water, hate musical comedy, Oscar parties, ’80’s night, the idea of human children of their own, much less ‘gifted”ones, Organic Food, Yoga – I mean it’s insane! They are not white! They actually came downstairs and saw the beautiful collage the cats and I were making, and had the nerve to call it “junk” and “a terrible mess” – try not to run screaming here, but they actually threw it in the trash. What more proof do you need to know that they totally do NOT appreciate art?
Bottom Line? I am the white one in the house. I don’t really know what they are, but they actually have the nerve to blame it on me that no one comes over for dinner. I Don’t Think So, you weirdos.
Sorry, didn’t mean to go off on a tangent there. I, Bobby D. the crow, highly recommend Christian Lander’s Book, “Stuff White People Like”. It is funny, informative, and if you feel a little like you don’t belong, it could really help you, and it is cheaper than therapy (although I love my therapist, I would never leave). Until I read it, I always felt like the odd man out. After this, I honestly feel I have found my “peeps”.
Yo!
Bobby Out.
Well, the Bird has the review of the book correct, and his assessment of who is “white” and “not white” in the house is pretty spot on, however, we DID TOO vote for Obama.
For the record, let’s get one thing straight – we like Dennis Kucinich, we are utterly unapologetic for that fact, and I hate to break it to you, Bobby my dear – people do not come over for dinner because they are afraid of YOU!
I am going to let folks in on your big secret – you are a giant scared-y bird. Anyone new you meet, and you leap towards the window like a hawk is on your ass.
Just to set a few facts straight. We may be weird, but you are a big old baby.
Love,
Your Mother
You are SO NOT ALLOWED to comment on this page, mother!
This is the Bird’s private area, and there are no parents allowed.
YEAH, Dennis Kucinich! Bobby, I always knew your parents were cool. Now, you have given me proof. Keep up the good reviews, White Bird. The world awaits.
I believe this is the section where the mother gets to pop on and do her little dance and sing, “I told you so, I told you so, what-can-I-say – I told you so!!
Ahem. The I told you so being that you wrote a good review, Bobby, you know that is what I meant, right?
Right?
WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT NO PARENTAL COMMENTS???!!!
Besides, don’t you think I have figured out that “Aminta’ is one of your friends you went off to meet when you snuck out in the middle of the night to go to New York? I see the pictures on the home page, you know I am considered the smartest bird on earth, how could you possibly think that I would not figure out she was a friend.
By the way, Aminta, besides the Kucinich comment (just one big can of crazy, but hey – My guy won, and the crazy guy can go back to worrying about aliens) and thinking my parents are cool – they are such dorks – really. Live with them for a week, you’ll see.
BESIDES all of that, thank you so very much for your kind comment on my review. The Bird appreciates all feedback, and is happy to respond in a civil fashion to everyone who comments. Except those-who-shall-not-be-mentioned, above.
Bobby D. the Crow - White and Proud Of It.
This is one of the most fun sites I have had the pleasure of stumbling across in a long time. I am a huge crow fan, so hey Bobby – keep up the writing, and please add more pictures. You look like you are quite possibly moulting in some of these, and by now you should be sleek and glossy, am I correct?
Yes, your parents are lazy sods if they don’t even have a recent photo of you.
Can’t wait for your next review! Do we get a teaser?
Hello Terry, the Bird welcomes you to his blog.
You are one hundred percent correct, I am molting in the picture, and when I nicely asked the mother to replace it with a nicer picture, she went on and on and on about how the camera was old and it was so hard to get a picture of me, yap, yap, yap.
Although, the two of them finally bought a new camera, and I am looking fabulous, so I am expecting a new picture up for the next review.
My friend Aminta wants to know what I am reviewing next, and I am having a hard time deciding.
A teaser…..hmm. It is going to be a scary book, I think. It is only a few days late for the whole Halloween scene, and we crows scare people all year round, so I am thinking scary.
Perhaps a forgotten treasure of Stephen King’s?
We shall see……..
Bobby Out!
And just one last rant on my mother. She insists on having the same little picture as I do when she writes on her other blogs. I told her this was MY blog, and the picture should be of ME.
She says that since she does all of the typing, she should be in the picture, and she feels it sets a good example of family members who collaborate together.
THE NERVE!
I want my own picture! Is that asking too much? When do parents let go and let their adult children have some autonomy?
This is a serious sore point for the Bird. Believe me, I will be getting my own, um,
“Maw! What do you call those little blog pictures again?”
from the office “Avatars, Bob,”
Right, avatar. I’ll get my own. That’ll show her I don’t need her.
[...] Bobby’s Bi-weekly Book Review [...]
[...] Bobby’s Bi-weekly Book Review [...]
Well Hi Bobby-
My Humans live in LA and it’s always ‘Farmers Market’ this and ‘Kitchen Gadgets’ that- they are very white. I am also black- but turning white so the humans have been calling me ‘Snowball’ lately (do they even know what one is??) Thanks for the review- and loved the art. Next time try a hair ball- you can really get the humans to scream when with they step in one of those! What fun. Sometimes pigeons land on our window sill and I try to converse with them but they are not very smart- but you are! Gotta go- it’s nap time. Talk to you soon.
Max
Max!
Hello, and great to see you! You know, the Parents other foodie friend Marsha has a black cat named Max, too! Maybe you guys are brothers.
Thank you so much for your kind comments about the review, and especially the art. I am still in shock that they threw our collage away. Peasants.
I have fully instructed the cats to barf their hairballs at the foot of the stairs, so that when the humans come down all tired in the morning, they step right on them.
Totally hysterical. The mother even slipped and fell on her butt – her heel went on the hairball, and when she fell, her butt landed right in the barf, Caw! Caw! Caw!
It was the best “Human T.V.” day ever.
Yeah, pigeons – not so smart. We have doves out here that are constantly wanting to come in and have a cigarette with me, but they don’t seem to understand there is a window between us, and I am always yelling, “look out!” but they crash right into it. Nobody has gotten hurt, but they do not seem to communicate very well to each other, either, because they keep doing it. Not the brightest, but they are kind of cute.
I have a crow girlfriend who sits outside and we talk through the window when the sun comes up. The Humans had to go buy really thick pillows so they wouldn’t hear us. I thought that was very considerate of them, not wanting to invade our privacy.
It is rare that they are that thoughtful.
Are your Human’s really starting to call you snowball? That is just wrong. Stay in touch and we will come up with a plan to knock that new name out of the bird park.
Thanks for writing, and if you have any good reading suggestions that you would like me to review, I always take into consideration books that other higher beings such as ourselves recommend.
Come back soon, Max!
Ciao!
Bobby Out!
Hey Bobby,
My Parents are the “other foodie friend(s)” mentioned in your last comment, Marsha & Pete. Yeah, my Father is the maker of the smoked Peteloaf. I know, big deal. They sure think it’s a big deal though, and I’m sure that by now you’ve heard all about it, too.
What is it with them and the food? We all eat, why do they have to make such a big deal out of it? Seems like a bunch of pomp & circumstance if you ask me. I cannot understand why anyone would waste hours of precious napping time preparing food that’s going to get all chewed up and swallowed in a matter of minutes.
All this talk of food has reminded why I came on to comment – hairballs! I am the master hairball gacker. I have practiced for years and have learned how to gack & vomit at will, much to the disgust of the ‘Rents. And yes, mornings are especially good – it practically ruins the entire day for them! The yelling is a little much, but overall entirely worth it just for the entertainment value. I find that 5 am is a particularly good time to gack one up. The wretching noise I make wakes them out of a dead sleep instantly, and boy does the Mother get mad. Like I said, this skill was worth every minute spent perfecting it!
So, I was told by my Mother there is another black cat named Max living in LA – which is where I’m from. Hmmm, wonder if it is possible I have a long lost brother? I was adopted by the Parents after all.
Oh and btw, dig your blog. Way cool. I don’t blog, but my Mother is such a dork she puts my pictures on her website. Check me out, I’m a handsome beast (if I do say so myself!).
http://www.marshasorce.com/zenphoto/index.php?album=cats%2FMax
Hey Max the cat too!!
I remember when you and your sister Coconut stayed with us, and Monkey-the-cat fell in love with Coconut because she was his twin. Remember that?
We miss Monkey-the-cat so bad. I hope he found Coconut in kitty heaven.
Max, between us, the Bird’s memory is not all it used to be, but he is pretty sure Coconut went off to join Monkey, right? The Father over here cannot even remember you staying with us, he only remembers Coconut, and the Mother is certain it was both, and I remember both – it is really bad in the memory-arena back here. Must be all of the fresh air.
Dude, I TOTALLY heard about the PeteLoaf, and being the occasional carnivore myself, I suggested to the “Rents (great nickname, gotta steal it) that they make it so the Bird could have a bite, but the mother said it was “too hard” and the father is useless in the kitchen except for making coffee and peanut butter on Ritz crackers.
Yeah, they get pretty worked up about food – I get worked up about it when it is time for fresh food in my bowl, and that is it – I do not pitch a fit over every bite I take, it is really silly. They just have too much time on their hands and have to fill it up with all kinds of nonsense.
You sound like the Master gacker, definitely. I know your Mom, and I know how incredibly cranky she can get being woken up by a noise indicating a mess she has to clean up is to follow. Bravo! I need to start handing out ribbons to all of the animals who come up with the most creative ways to annoy their Humans.
Actually, I have a little trick I do that I consider to be in it’s own category. When the Mother tried to take me outside to have fun (which I do, but don’t tell her) I start acting like I do not want to go, and put up a big fuss, jumping down on my perch, then jumping way up high to the top of the condo, where I perform my bulls-eye projectile poop.
caw! caw! caw! Cawcawcawcawcawcaw
Sorry, it just kills me every time I think about it.
It is fabulous – I usually aim for her arm, as that elicits such a scream and a near fall off of the chair, that, to be honest, I am afraid to poop on her head – she could really hurt herself, the way she overreacts. You should hear her when I land a big Bob Butt Loog right on her arm – she swears and curses at the top of her lungs – honestly, I think she actually makes up some of the nasty stuff she says. Quite the little lady, my Mother. It’s just a little bit of bird poo – you’d think a sewer pipe broke over her head.
I’ll try to get it on video and send it to you.
I love your pictures – my Mother is a total Cheese Weasel, too, with the pictures of me. You’d think she was the only mother on earth – these “Rents, they all think they “own” us – isn’t that just the funniest thing you have ever heard?
Well, I have another book to review tonight, but it is going to be seriously short – trust me. You will enjoy it.
Come back soon, okay? Two Max’s, Too Cool!
Ciao Ciao!
Bobby OUT!!
Oh, and Max the cat who is not Max the cat too –
I ALSO hear that your “Rents call you “The NeNah” – What is up with THAT???
First the NeNah, then Snowball?
Dude, we have to come up with a plan – it is obvious you have reached out to me for help since you write to me as MAX – I can have my “Rents talk to your “Rents (nickname courtesy of Max the cat too), maybe they can knock this nickname nonsense off.
Gotta go shred a book, now.
Bobby Out!
Yo Bobby,
It’s no secret that I have lots of nicknames, thanks to the Mother, but those are not among them. Maybe those belong to the Max of the french bread making Humans? This might be a bit confusing with both of us commenting, so I’ll just sign as…
Max from Colorado
You are right Max from Colorado -
Things could get confusing by the way I tried to address French Bread Max.
I think location is the way to go – You are MaxCo, and your possible long lost brother will be MaxLB (he lives in a high rise in Long Beach – stares outside at birds and the Queen Mary all day).
Excellent idea, MaxCo!
Bobby OUT!
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