I pretty much wanted to gouge my eyes out after reading this book. I was a fan of Anthony at the time (not so much any more, now that I'm not 12), and I thought heck yeah, sounds like a good time. No. It really isn't. It's puerile, childish, poorly written, inane, kind of (okay, really really) gross, and about the furthest thing from pornographic you could get. It wasn't even funny gross, it was stupid gross. It was only barely edged out of "worst book I've ever read" in the last few years, and that was another self-published, self-edited monstrosity by someone not nearly as famous. If I could give it no stars, I would. I suppose someone must be turned on or even just plain amused by this kind of thing...seriously, 25ish years after reading it, I still remember Mt. Smegma...but I can't imagine what the inside of that person's head must be like. I've rarely wanted to fling a book into a raging fire, but this would be one.