Status Updates From Contrary Pleasure (Murder R...

Reading JDM is like reading Facebook posts. Like reading what old women write. Just do a find+replace for "hot chick" to "the grandkids".

I haven't been able to read for days now. This slop-poster has ruined reading for me.

I can't tell you how dull this is. Who's the fool who ever invented writing and books? What a waste of time.

It's hard to believe. I've been reading since I was 3; it's always been my main entertainment. And this jackass has actually put me off reading. I'm gonna have to get a TV and watch all the Happy Days (ABC, 1974-1984) re-runs. I hate reading now.

I'm trying so hard to finish this, but it's painful. I'm gonna tell you all something: you've been tricked; this guy is nothing but a Romance Novel writer. The whole problem is that long ago some idiot categorized him as a crime writer and you all just go along with it. I dare you to read 40-odd of his pieces-of-shit in a row like I did and not go along with me.

This cuck has actually put me off reading. Only Pynchon, Faulkner, Tolkien, and Shakespeare have been able to do that to me before. How could he live with himself, writing this vomit?

Kissing-myalgia has followed me my whole life. Everywhere. In bars, in cars, sidewalks, stores, everywhere. There's no escape. I'm God's kissing-myalgic man.

This is amazingly boring. And I haven't even got to the kissing part yet.

This is pure, unadulterated, 200-proof Chloroform in Ink. It's uncanny just how badly this guy sucks and knuckleheads worship him anyway.

Soon I'll be done with this Kissing Kook once and for all. (I wonder if all his "kissing" crap is just a Levantine metaphor for intercourse.)