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Death Machines of Death
All machines suddenly come to life for some reason and go on a rampage to kill every human being on the planet. It's kind of like that movie "Maximum Overdrive," only ten time as fucking brutal!
Welcome to the Big Old Gaylord Opryland Resort! Do you lack the energy to get a date? Are you batshit insane and looking for a cure? Are you a pants-shitting senior who wants to stop being old? Do you hate Stephen King? Then, this weekend, there's a seminar for you! Sure, there's a comet flying through space bringing all machinery to life and killing everybody, but don't worry about that! Here, have a sandwich! Visit our many attractions! See our massive convention center (of "death"), our beautiful atrium (of "death"), and our arcade (of "death")! Ignore the massive senior citizen orgy. Don't talk to the kid in the wheelchair. We guarantee the elevator will "not" transform you into a cyborg. Mr. Coffee "isn't" trying to kill you. And there is absolutely nothing suspicious going on in the basement. (Don't go down there though, "seriously").
Take a load off, have a good time, and prepare to "die"!
Death Machines of Death is an apocalyptic horror comedy by Vince Kramer that just so happens to be a million times better than anything you've ever read before. And if you think for one minute that those boring literary classics like "The Great Gatsby" or "Moby Dick" are better than this, then you're fucking stupid!
Welcome to the Big Old Gaylord Opryland Resort! Do you lack the energy to get a date? Are you batshit insane and looking for a cure? Are you a pants-shitting senior who wants to stop being old? Do you hate Stephen King? Then, this weekend, there's a seminar for you! Sure, there's a comet flying through space bringing all machinery to life and killing everybody, but don't worry about that! Here, have a sandwich! Visit our many attractions! See our massive convention center (of "death"), our beautiful atrium (of "death"), and our arcade (of "death")! Ignore the massive senior citizen orgy. Don't talk to the kid in the wheelchair. We guarantee the elevator will "not" transform you into a cyborg. Mr. Coffee "isn't" trying to kill you. And there is absolutely nothing suspicious going on in the basement. (Don't go down there though, "seriously").
Take a load off, have a good time, and prepare to "die"!
Death Machines of Death is an apocalyptic horror comedy by Vince Kramer that just so happens to be a million times better than anything you've ever read before. And if you think for one minute that those boring literary classics like "The Great Gatsby" or "Moby Dick" are better than this, then you're fucking stupid!
- GenresBizarro FictionHorror
130 pages, Trade Paperback
First published October 1, 2013
1 person is currently reading
104 people want to read
About the author
Vince Kramer
7 books44 followersVince Kramer has lived in exactly three cities that start with a P: Philadelphia, Phoenix, and Portland. He is the author of four "word" novels - Gigantic Death Worm, Death Machines of Death, Deadly Lazer Explodathon, and Hell of Death. He is one of the few gay authors who is actually good looking.
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Displaying 1 - 13 of 13 reviews
October 14, 2013
Vince Kramer puts the `bat-shit insane genius' into bat-shit insane genius. This book is worth your time simply for the meta-argument asides between its Narrator and its author, but those are interspersed throughout an equally ridiculous, hilarious, wonderfully self-aware story about death machines and sandwiches and the mentally challenged. This book is as offensive as it is funny. It really is the best thing, ever.
If you take yourself too seriously, you won't want to read this book. If you like to have fun and wish to be entertained, then this is the book for you. I look forward to ignoring this book for several months, until I practically forget all about it, just so I can pull it off my shelf again and experience it all over like it was the first time. It won't be, of course, because there can only be one first time reading this hilarious book, but that's the best I'll be able to manage. The hard part will be avoiding that re-read for as long as possible. It will be a difficult sacrifice, but it will be worth it.
If you take yourself too seriously, you won't want to read this book. If you like to have fun and wish to be entertained, then this is the book for you. I look forward to ignoring this book for several months, until I practically forget all about it, just so I can pull it off my shelf again and experience it all over like it was the first time. It won't be, of course, because there can only be one first time reading this hilarious book, but that's the best I'll be able to manage. The hard part will be avoiding that re-read for as long as possible. It will be a difficult sacrifice, but it will be worth it.
November 25, 2013
When I was a kid, I would get bored in Church. I would take the envelopes tucked into the back of the pews for tithes and draw pictures. Horrible pictures. Monsters and whatnot. But my most favorite things to draw, were death factories. I don't know where I got the idea, but what I would do was start at one end of the envelope and draw a helicopter. Under the helicopter, in a big net, were dozens of people. The net was hovering over a pipe that lead to a big factory--split open in cross sections to expose the interior--which was...well...a death factory. People were ground up on circular saws, ripped apart by monsters, hanging from chains, the floor was strewn with severed limbs, pendulums swung and decapitated bodies ran about, necks spurting blood, looking for their heads which were usually being squeezed by a machine until they popped.
Death Machines of Death is kind of like those pictures. It is all out craziness, mayhem, death, and hilarity. It is offensive and innocent at the same time. Violence is practically a main character. As is sex. As is: A room full of Kevins, an old man named Robert that just might be the coolest character in all of Bizarro fiction, a "special" boy named Jordy, and so on. The world these characters live in is being ripped apart by killer machines. I mean RIPPED APART BY DEATH MACHINES!
And you know what?
IT REALLY IS THE BEST BOOK EVER!
It is so much fun! It's like a truck carrying porno magazines crashed into another truck carrying body parts in Vince Kramer's living room.It is fast-paced and funny to a fault, with characters battling amongst themselves over whether they should stand and fight the machines, or have another sandwich. It is about STephen King. It is about technology making us stupid. It is about treating people the way you want to be treated, no matter what their ailments or handicaps might be. It is about toys falling from bookshelves and trips to the store for more beer.
It is about awesome.
Death Machines of Death is kind of like those pictures. It is all out craziness, mayhem, death, and hilarity. It is offensive and innocent at the same time. Violence is practically a main character. As is sex. As is: A room full of Kevins, an old man named Robert that just might be the coolest character in all of Bizarro fiction, a "special" boy named Jordy, and so on. The world these characters live in is being ripped apart by killer machines. I mean RIPPED APART BY DEATH MACHINES!
And you know what?
IT REALLY IS THE BEST BOOK EVER!
It is so much fun! It's like a truck carrying porno magazines crashed into another truck carrying body parts in Vince Kramer's living room.It is fast-paced and funny to a fault, with characters battling amongst themselves over whether they should stand and fight the machines, or have another sandwich. It is about STephen King. It is about technology making us stupid. It is about treating people the way you want to be treated, no matter what their ailments or handicaps might be. It is about toys falling from bookshelves and trips to the store for more beer.
It is about awesome.
November 6, 2013
This book was visually and gramatically perfect. I only subtracted a star because I cannot be Vince Kramer. I can live vicariously through Vince Kramer, but I can never be him.
He's the guy whose friends were all writers and decided one day, after much persuasion, 'Fuck it, I'll write a book!' And he did.
There's a term in storytelling called 'breaking the fourth wall' where characters can directly reference the film or novel they inhabit. Vince doesn't break the fourth wall in this one. There is no fourth wall to break. He cuts through all pretension and captures real people in such a raw fashion that they seem too ridiculous to be believable, but as you wind your way through these 130 pages and witness the author and narrator take up entire pages arguing back and forth over which way the plot should go (and sometimes even the editor), whether Uma Thurman is fuckable or not, whether Stephen King is ever going to write another novel or if he's dead as the prologue suggests, it puts you at such ease that you can totally buy it when Nathan Fillion pisses on Ben Affleck's corpse or a roomful of people named Kevin decide it's socially acceptable to masturbate in public while eating sandwiches at a social mixer.
If we were to analyze this groundbreaking work in Freudian terms, Vince Kramer is Vince Kramer's Id, the narrator is his ego and Death Machines of Death is his superego. Or some shit.
He's the guy whose friends were all writers and decided one day, after much persuasion, 'Fuck it, I'll write a book!' And he did.
There's a term in storytelling called 'breaking the fourth wall' where characters can directly reference the film or novel they inhabit. Vince doesn't break the fourth wall in this one. There is no fourth wall to break. He cuts through all pretension and captures real people in such a raw fashion that they seem too ridiculous to be believable, but as you wind your way through these 130 pages and witness the author and narrator take up entire pages arguing back and forth over which way the plot should go (and sometimes even the editor), whether Uma Thurman is fuckable or not, whether Stephen King is ever going to write another novel or if he's dead as the prologue suggests, it puts you at such ease that you can totally buy it when Nathan Fillion pisses on Ben Affleck's corpse or a roomful of people named Kevin decide it's socially acceptable to masturbate in public while eating sandwiches at a social mixer.
If we were to analyze this groundbreaking work in Freudian terms, Vince Kramer is Vince Kramer's Id, the narrator is his ego and Death Machines of Death is his superego. Or some shit.
Read
January 16, 2015In this review I wanted to reference an essay I read online a few months ago, about the merits and problems of "Sci-Fi" as literature, but I Googled for, like, sixty whole seconds, and I totally cannot find it anywhere. So please allow me to summarize. (And then please lord it over me when said article is finally located, proving I totally misunderstood it.)
The essay was written by some proponent or denizen of the "serious literature" genre, I don't recall the author's name or even a gender. In this essay, he/she described in loving yet utterly condescending terms why he/she still suffered a weakness for "Sci-Fi" as a genre, despite a long list of its flaws which the author went on to spend most of the essay enumerating. Among these complaints were the usual ones: escapism, sexism, two-dimensionality, weak prose, et cetera, and we all know that such defects can be located in any genre or stream of literature if one knowns where to look. But one of the author's peeves about SF was really interesting and new to me. Specifically: misanthropy, defined not as "anti-men" but as "anti-human."
I do so wish I could find you this essay, and relate specific examples. But for instance, he/she called out one novel (it might have been by A. E. Van Vogt?) about an entire race of aliens who are fighting back against extermination by humanity. This essayist took great umbrage at this interesting SF conceit of placing the entire human race in the antagonist role and locating the narrator's sympathy elsewhere. It struck me as curious that the author didn't even feel it was necessary to explain what's so abhorrent about this.
It reminded me, and reaffirmed for me, that many readers and writers of the "serious literature," the genre that considers itself above genre, are exclusively concerned with the beautification of humanity. They write and read about the specialness of special people, how we are all beautiful and wonderful and our inner lives are of great importance. High-lit people are the most up-with-people people you will ever meet. They treasure the human experience, and are endlessly fascinated with its minutiae. And that's sweet and lovely, as well as very clever from a marketing perspective because there's nothing people love more than themselves.
But if you're paying any attention at all to the environment lately, or the world news, or history ... then it's really hard to deny that eight billion of the nicest people on Earth can add up to one big problem. The truth is, we're pretty terrible at working our our nation-scale arguments without major bloodshed, and we're killing off all of nature at an alarming rate and shitting in the oceans and poisoning the atmosphere, and being generally unrealistic about the long-term sustainability of this, but boy do we love driving our cars and chopping down our forests and having more and more children and feeding them everything in sight.
Anybody who loves nature, animals, landscapes, any of that, is eventually going to reach the limits of their deep, abiding love for humanity, its self-love and its obsession with its own experience. But if you start writing from the point of view of that nature, those animals, that landscape, and try to express its suffering at human hands, you'd better be prepared for a whole lot of WTF from readers and critics who have never questioned the central importance of humanity in the global narrative.
Having said all that ... hey, look! Here is Vince Kramer's latest novel, DEATH MACHINES OF DEATH! It's misanthropic as hell! Anybody who knows Vince know's he's the sweetest guy ever, but he's written a book in which all of humanity comes under violent attack by all of humanity's doodads for no particular reason. During said mechapocalypse a group of fairly pathetic characters trapped in a hotel do a fairly pathetic job of surviving, all the while having inner human experiences that range from mundane to kind of cool to fairly pathetic, none of which end up mattering very much. It's a totally hilarious down-with-people killfest! But if you take it the least bit seriously you will be deeply shocked and offended. It's full of hateful anti-gay speech, which is even funnier if you know how gay Vince is. (How gay? Gayer than a three-dollar gay bill with James Buchanan engraved on it wearing a dildo on his head and a "The Last Unicorn" t-shirt, and with the words across the top reading 'THREE DOLLARS AND ALSO VINCE IS GAY'.) The word 'retard' is employed viciously and lovingly throughout, which is even funnier if you know that Vince ... is a really sweet guy. Worst of all, the book depicts, in gory detail, the unheroic deaths of a whole bunch of people who were clearly very heroic, beginning with Stephen King and ending with Vladimir Putin. Oops. Jesus Christ also shows up, and is a total douchebag. (Mohammed is conspicuously absent, for which I retract one invisible star from my invisible rating of twelve-million stars.)
I'm sure a lot of people can't laugh at this stuff. That's fine, but I would ask them: why not? Is it because they can't imagine a world in which people aren't the big Hollywood heroes? Is universal human goodness too sacred a cow? Is it terrifying to consider that inner lives might be like assholes, i.e. everybody's got one and nobody gives a shit?
Well, okay, I guess that might actually be terrifying. But the opposite story, the one that always sells, the one about the fundamental heroism of everybody's specialness? I'm sorry, but I've heard that one a million times. It's in every Hollywood movie and every blockbuster novel and every TV show and most breakfast cereals. If humanity is so goddamned lovely and special and sacred, then why is our lovely, special, sacred human world so fucked up and broken?
The essay was written by some proponent or denizen of the "serious literature" genre, I don't recall the author's name or even a gender. In this essay, he/she described in loving yet utterly condescending terms why he/she still suffered a weakness for "Sci-Fi" as a genre, despite a long list of its flaws which the author went on to spend most of the essay enumerating. Among these complaints were the usual ones: escapism, sexism, two-dimensionality, weak prose, et cetera, and we all know that such defects can be located in any genre or stream of literature if one knowns where to look. But one of the author's peeves about SF was really interesting and new to me. Specifically: misanthropy, defined not as "anti-men" but as "anti-human."
I do so wish I could find you this essay, and relate specific examples. But for instance, he/she called out one novel (it might have been by A. E. Van Vogt?) about an entire race of aliens who are fighting back against extermination by humanity. This essayist took great umbrage at this interesting SF conceit of placing the entire human race in the antagonist role and locating the narrator's sympathy elsewhere. It struck me as curious that the author didn't even feel it was necessary to explain what's so abhorrent about this.
It reminded me, and reaffirmed for me, that many readers and writers of the "serious literature," the genre that considers itself above genre, are exclusively concerned with the beautification of humanity. They write and read about the specialness of special people, how we are all beautiful and wonderful and our inner lives are of great importance. High-lit people are the most up-with-people people you will ever meet. They treasure the human experience, and are endlessly fascinated with its minutiae. And that's sweet and lovely, as well as very clever from a marketing perspective because there's nothing people love more than themselves.
But if you're paying any attention at all to the environment lately, or the world news, or history ... then it's really hard to deny that eight billion of the nicest people on Earth can add up to one big problem. The truth is, we're pretty terrible at working our our nation-scale arguments without major bloodshed, and we're killing off all of nature at an alarming rate and shitting in the oceans and poisoning the atmosphere, and being generally unrealistic about the long-term sustainability of this, but boy do we love driving our cars and chopping down our forests and having more and more children and feeding them everything in sight.
Anybody who loves nature, animals, landscapes, any of that, is eventually going to reach the limits of their deep, abiding love for humanity, its self-love and its obsession with its own experience. But if you start writing from the point of view of that nature, those animals, that landscape, and try to express its suffering at human hands, you'd better be prepared for a whole lot of WTF from readers and critics who have never questioned the central importance of humanity in the global narrative.
Having said all that ... hey, look! Here is Vince Kramer's latest novel, DEATH MACHINES OF DEATH! It's misanthropic as hell! Anybody who knows Vince know's he's the sweetest guy ever, but he's written a book in which all of humanity comes under violent attack by all of humanity's doodads for no particular reason. During said mechapocalypse a group of fairly pathetic characters trapped in a hotel do a fairly pathetic job of surviving, all the while having inner human experiences that range from mundane to kind of cool to fairly pathetic, none of which end up mattering very much. It's a totally hilarious down-with-people killfest! But if you take it the least bit seriously you will be deeply shocked and offended. It's full of hateful anti-gay speech, which is even funnier if you know how gay Vince is. (How gay? Gayer than a three-dollar gay bill with James Buchanan engraved on it wearing a dildo on his head and a "The Last Unicorn" t-shirt, and with the words across the top reading 'THREE DOLLARS AND ALSO VINCE IS GAY'.) The word 'retard' is employed viciously and lovingly throughout, which is even funnier if you know that Vince ... is a really sweet guy. Worst of all, the book depicts, in gory detail, the unheroic deaths of a whole bunch of people who were clearly very heroic, beginning with Stephen King and ending with Vladimir Putin. Oops. Jesus Christ also shows up, and is a total douchebag. (Mohammed is conspicuously absent, for which I retract one invisible star from my invisible rating of twelve-million stars.)
I'm sure a lot of people can't laugh at this stuff. That's fine, but I would ask them: why not? Is it because they can't imagine a world in which people aren't the big Hollywood heroes? Is universal human goodness too sacred a cow? Is it terrifying to consider that inner lives might be like assholes, i.e. everybody's got one and nobody gives a shit?
Well, okay, I guess that might actually be terrifying. But the opposite story, the one that always sells, the one about the fundamental heroism of everybody's specialness? I'm sorry, but I've heard that one a million times. It's in every Hollywood movie and every blockbuster novel and every TV show and most breakfast cereals. If humanity is so goddamned lovely and special and sacred, then why is our lovely, special, sacred human world so fucked up and broken?
November 17, 2013
Imagine being dragged backwards through time to the 80s by a Death Metal Band who punched you in the face repeatedly but you enjoyed it... with sandwiches. You do not simply review this book. You stagger away wondering what your damn problem is, pondering why you enjoyed this book and marvelling at how Vince Kramer smashes up the expectations of the reader and then shoves them up your... er, anyway... funny, violent, extreme, coarse, witty, crass...silly... This book isn't for everyone. I'm not sure who it is for. I enjoyed it... so shoot me. Sorry, I need to go and wash my brain now.
November 9, 2013
Politically Correct Bizarro Fiction
This is politically correct bizarro fiction at its finest. The treatment of tards alone is just so humane. This book treats them like real people! And the machines that come to life and kill everybody in horrible and brutal ways? This book treats them like real people too! This is a great book to read if you are worried about certain demographics being mistreated or slandered as they so often are in bizarro fiction. Not in Vince Kramer's world!
This is politically correct bizarro fiction at its finest. The treatment of tards alone is just so humane. This book treats them like real people! And the machines that come to life and kill everybody in horrible and brutal ways? This book treats them like real people too! This is a great book to read if you are worried about certain demographics being mistreated or slandered as they so often are in bizarro fiction. Not in Vince Kramer's world!
July 25, 2016
Death Machines Of Death by Vince Kramer - First off, what a great title. How can you pass by a book called Death Machines of Death and not want to see what's inside. Well I know I can't. Even better than the title is the cover. Quite possibly the coolest cover I've ever seen. As for the book itself, although I did like it, I can't give it entirely the same praise.What I will say about it, It was fun and easy to read. Vince Kramer is a pretty funny guy. I like his sense of humor and his incessant ripping on Stephen King. Although, at least as far as Death Machines goes, if you weren't alive in the '80s, you might not get some of the humor. Not a problem in my case. On the other hand though, there are plenty of obscenities and offensiveness directed at more than one social minority for everyone to enjoy. Plus, there are sandwiches. My biggest criticism of the book was the constant "chiming in" from the narrator. It was meant to be funny, but to me it was mostly annoying.
Even though I consider Death Machines of Death overall a pretty mediocre book, I definitely don't regret reading it. Like I said, it was fun.
October 7, 2014
"Awesome" doesn't do this book justice.
This is like the best thing ever.
A comet passes through Earth, and all of the planet's machines spring to life, killing all on their path. It's the apocalypse, pure and simple.
And then, we follow the strangest group of characters ever created. I can't say much about the plot without spoiling it, but there's a big twist about the identity of one of them.
This book is funny, it's gory, it's even arousing at moments (yes, I'm a teenager trapped in an adult body). It drips with blood and humour, and the meta exchange between the narrator and the writer (among others) is hilarious.
Buy this book. Read it more than once. Take it to the town square and recite it to the people.
They'll thank you.
This is like the best thing ever.
A comet passes through Earth, and all of the planet's machines spring to life, killing all on their path. It's the apocalypse, pure and simple.
And then, we follow the strangest group of characters ever created. I can't say much about the plot without spoiling it, but there's a big twist about the identity of one of them.
This book is funny, it's gory, it's even arousing at moments (yes, I'm a teenager trapped in an adult body). It drips with blood and humour, and the meta exchange between the narrator and the writer (among others) is hilarious.
Buy this book. Read it more than once. Take it to the town square and recite it to the people.
They'll thank you.
February 11, 2014
I remember saving Vince's first book till after I finished my Alien Smut Peddlers from the Future. Having read other reviews, it seemed Mr Kramer and I shared what was once uttered as a funny sense of fun. Needless to say I couldn't wait to read his follow-up Death Machines of Death. So call it what you will, his second book came out just prior to my second book Deathmaster: Adventures in the 39th Uncharted Dimension. But I didn't, verily I say couldn't hold off. I dived straight in and after reading the concluding lines of the prologue as it were, I knew it was all good from there baby. Well done Mr Kramer, keep'em coming.
November 27, 2015
THE COFFEE MACHINE IS ALIVE AND I AM NOT AN ATTRACTIVE PERSON.
July 3, 2020
4.5 stars for ridiculously stupid insanity. I'm so tired of everything these days having to be politically correct. This book is not. Not even remotely close and it was wonderfully refreshing. Many will be offended by it and write it off as childish but I had many laugh out loud moments and really liked it. There may be something to this bizarro fiction. Really unique dopiness. Thanx for the laughs Vince.
May 25, 2014
Mentally Challenge Yourself with this SuperFun Read.
Kramer has surpassed his absurdly grotesque debut, Gigantic Death Worm, with his sophomore offering. Fans of his first book will find much to like in Death Machines of Death. Both books are written with a similar irreverence and are grounded in b-movie film tropes. But this book is so much more layered, surpassing the "unofficial sequel" label. Sure, they both have Death in the title, sometimes more than once, but let me stop comparing them or we are never going to escape the first paragraph of this review.
Ostensibly a spoof of Maximum Overdrive, Death Machines of Death starts off by introducing us to a slew of characters, ranging from an old man in search of vitality, to a nymphomaniac in search of sex, to an obsessive compulsive man, to a gay guy, to a mentally retarded guy who wears a helmet all the time, to a guy with Dissociative Identity Disorder (and his alter), to a total jerk with Asperger's syndrome. They have all gathered, for various reasons, in a giant hotel/convention center. It's impossible to tell initially who the protagonist is. This is due to the craft and ingenuity of Kramer's storytelling. Meta-humor runs throughout, playfully exploiting genre conventions and plot holes to hilarious effect. Oh, and I'm pretty sure if you are the type of person who gets offended by ideas, you are going to be horrified by this book. It's a pinnacle of politically incorrect satire, and it actually manages to deliver some surprising emotionally satisfying points.
It's got tons of references to 80s films: one character speaks in nothing but movie quotes. It's also got great video game references, a really twisted rendering of Gattaca, a giant hodge-podge robot that tries to kill everyone, a masturbation orgy involving people with mono, a ghost, aliens, pederasty, and a skipping jukebox blaring "You Dropped a Bomb on Me" by the Gap Band.
The end is completely unforeseeable, and manages to wrap the story up nicely while giving you some things to ponder about life, handicaps, disco and robots. Death Machines of Death is still all about fun and crazy, over-the-top violence, though, so don't worry about some goofy philosophy lesson. Lessons are for the mentally handicapped. This book is for you.
Kramer has surpassed his absurdly grotesque debut, Gigantic Death Worm, with his sophomore offering. Fans of his first book will find much to like in Death Machines of Death. Both books are written with a similar irreverence and are grounded in b-movie film tropes. But this book is so much more layered, surpassing the "unofficial sequel" label. Sure, they both have Death in the title, sometimes more than once, but let me stop comparing them or we are never going to escape the first paragraph of this review.
Ostensibly a spoof of Maximum Overdrive, Death Machines of Death starts off by introducing us to a slew of characters, ranging from an old man in search of vitality, to a nymphomaniac in search of sex, to an obsessive compulsive man, to a gay guy, to a mentally retarded guy who wears a helmet all the time, to a guy with Dissociative Identity Disorder (and his alter), to a total jerk with Asperger's syndrome. They have all gathered, for various reasons, in a giant hotel/convention center. It's impossible to tell initially who the protagonist is. This is due to the craft and ingenuity of Kramer's storytelling. Meta-humor runs throughout, playfully exploiting genre conventions and plot holes to hilarious effect. Oh, and I'm pretty sure if you are the type of person who gets offended by ideas, you are going to be horrified by this book. It's a pinnacle of politically incorrect satire, and it actually manages to deliver some surprising emotionally satisfying points.
It's got tons of references to 80s films: one character speaks in nothing but movie quotes. It's also got great video game references, a really twisted rendering of Gattaca, a giant hodge-podge robot that tries to kill everyone, a masturbation orgy involving people with mono, a ghost, aliens, pederasty, and a skipping jukebox blaring "You Dropped a Bomb on Me" by the Gap Band.
The end is completely unforeseeable, and manages to wrap the story up nicely while giving you some things to ponder about life, handicaps, disco and robots. Death Machines of Death is still all about fun and crazy, over-the-top violence, though, so don't worry about some goofy philosophy lesson. Lessons are for the mentally handicapped. This book is for you.
January 17, 2016
Fast and bat shit crazy. I will never look at a Mr. Coffee machine the same way now that I have read this book.
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