What's not to like? Fallen preacher falls sideways, which is way more dangerous than just down, all hopped up on deadly snake venom but carrying the confidence boost of a Monster Energy six-pack, running amok and righting wrongs and cleaning house before he expires. Reads like Harry Crews script-doctored the Dennis Quaid remake of D.O.A., but directed by Ken Russell, and someone cut the brake lines. Bonus: if you liked that scene in Kingsman where Mr. Darcy slaughters those Westboro Baptist types mid-sermon, this book has a scene that'll make your heart grow three sizes that day. Also, this narrative left me with two very distinct (but no less exhilarating) experiences: At first, I assumed the rival halves of the novel had been divided between the authors, but a closer inspection (a.k.a. wild assumption) now makes me think that Goodfellow may have just been imitating Osborne, and vice versa. So, the first half is this dreamier, more Southern Gothic sort of experience, where the enjoyment is more sentence level, even making you feel vaguely edified 'n' shit, meaning you don't have to have read Crews' A Feast of Snakes to enjoy these early chapters, but it might enhance the experience? The same way you don't have to be an asshole to enjoy Limp Bizkit's discography but I've found it helps me get through the last two albums in particular. The second half of the book is more of a freewheeling bloodbath where you can practically hear Harry Nilson's "Jump in the Fire" playing as our hero gleefully spirals. Similar to the escalation of mayhem that made Goodfellow's Repo Shark (and his The Last Goddam Hollywood Movie with John Skipp) such gonzo delights, this fable of a snake-bit preacher living on borrowed time and blasting away at Walmarts and football games and Halloween stores (several American arenas of faith are present here) is definitely worth a look. These authors are always entertaining, sure, but as the venom eats Clyde away from the inside out (but somehow avoiding all the vitals that keep his faith chugging along), it feels kinda timely, too, with moments like the gibbering glossolalia sequences that, due to the abundance of skill on hand, both mock the mania but also somehow slips a little snake tongue of empathy into your ear holes.