Birth: The Exquisite Sound of One Hand Falling Off a Turnip Truck (Chakra Kong Book 1) by S.T. Gulik
DO NOT READ THIS REVIEW if you are offended by:
- Swearing (hard core swearing not just oh damn)
- Man whores
- Illegal organ harvesting
- Descriptive bodily functions most pertaining to the colon
- Alcohol, drugs, sex
- Snack cakes
I’m serious. Close your browser. Mom, I’m talking to you.
Never in all my life have a read anything like this. I knew I was in for some messed up shit after reading the title but even the title doesn’t prepare you for how fucked up this shit is. It’s indescribable. I am not sure my review will do the insanity justice.
That being said, it is brilliant. Brilliantly disturbing yet pleasurable. Like I said, indescribable.
The brain of S.T. Gulik must be a blender full of bat-shit crazy with a splash of something fucky set to chop me some instability. A delirious concoction that when consumed has the same effect as tripping on acid. He is the henchman of hallucination and the master of metaphorical masturbation. In short, a motherfucking genius.
What the bejesus am I talking about? Again – indescribable. Let me give you some examples.
Max describing his bad day: “Some aliens molested me and now I have to go talk to a suicide cult.”
Max describing a blown attack plan: “You guys are predictable as fuck. With twenty-five bucks and a kindergarten class I could have mounted an effective attack against you.”
Max describing his girlfriend: “Addy was sprawled out on a divan looking like Aphrodite seen through the eyes of a thirty-seven year old virgin who recently washed down a handful of ecstasy with a gallon of Spanish fly.”
Max apologizing for his PDA with said girlfriend: “Can you blame me?” Any monkey would eat its grandmother for a chance to dust her crops.”
Cakey describing Max’s love life: “Monkey likes random dumpster slut. It benefits Max to get his sloppy time.”
Who is this Max and what is a Cakey.
Max is an asshole. He says so himself. We are introduced to Max shortly after he awakes from an alcohol-induced black out and down two kidneys due to the illegal organ harvesting he apparently slept through. Don’t worry, he doesn’t need them due to The Divine Disturbance of April 12, 2148 when the hair band Poison Candy released it’s alien form and turned into a giant glowing heavy metal god who now takes up residence in Bryant Park granting wishes to those who compliment his hair. Shit. Sorry I let the crazy run away from me for a second.
Cakey is a cheekworm and the only thing Max really loves. A cheekworm has a face similar to a cat with human features and a body of a furry worm with suction cups for legs. Who’s trippin’ now?
Max fills his organ-less life with booze, drugs and as Cakey describes them “random dumpster sluts”. He’s just minding his own business when a series of unfortunate events makes him the fourth Baudelaire. The first unfortunate event being a coma after an attack by Iiites. Iiites are a violent race of sewer dwellers who are also known as Lobsters due to their massive right arms. Seriously, the mind on this dude. It’s a lovely sickness he’s got.
Max and Cakey take on the Iiites and win making him a celebrity of sorts and the pawn in the death match between the Riot NRRDS and the Iiites. Riot NRRDS are a bunch of smart nerds who formed a rebellion and recruited Max as their savior. Meanwhile some of the Iiites decided they didn’t want to kill people anymore so they formed their own rebellion and recruited Max as their savior. Max just wants to get drunk and fuck but he his bad luck keeps him sober and horny.
The world created by S.T. Gulik is so creative; it’s hard to believe it was thought up by just one mind. It feels like it should have taken several, drug and alcohol addicted masterminds to create such weirdness. In my head I picture Vincent van Gogh, Ernest Hemingway and Kurt Cobain getting together to write a book while listening to Comfortably Numb by Pink Floyd.
Wacko land consists of three districts in which the security provided for the community is economy based and determined by Corporations. Oh and did I mention the Zombies? No? Well there are Zombies. Oh and did I mention the NAADP? The National Association for the Advancement of Dead People protects Zombie rights. Fucked with a capital F!
Animal rights or lack there of is big politics in this train wreck world. There are several groups and cults providing protection of animals or look to harm animals. PITA-4 defends animals by promoting cannibalism among humans their logic being those who victimize helpless creatures should be shown how it feels to be dinner. Then there’s the other extreme, The Cult of Abel who preaches, “A nude horse is a rude horse” and wants all animals to wear clothes. Holy shit right? Is your mind blown yet?
There were so many things about this book that blew my mind but the Bio-Bed tops the list. Max made a big deal about beds during his travels. Describing each one in detail and I kept thinking, Bio-Bed, is that some memory foam Posturepedic bullshit. Then I read the appendix. If you bought this book just to read the appendix, it’s worth your money. Without further ado, I give you, the Bio-Bed:
The Bio-Bed is one of Bio-Corp’s greatest achievements. When Dr. Gus Mengela was a child he observed that there was nothing softer than a big fat cat. He wanted to use his cat as a pillow, but said cat would never cooperate. As an adult Mengela discovered a solution.
He started by removing the genetic codes for limbs and bones so the cats would be born quadriplegic and unable to roll over onto their owners. Then he adjusted the metabolic rate so they would grow ten feet long and eight feet wide with a sleep radius of seven by eight feet. They were made hypoallergenic, shedding was reduced to ten hairs per day, and they were given an array of modified dopamine glands to keep them in a state of perpetual bliss. The end result was a huge lump of furry fat, which purrs its owner to sleep.
Bio-Beds are cheap to grow and easy to maintain. They rarely have to be replaced and upkeep is as simple as changing out the convenient IN and OUT bags once a week. The IN bag is an IV filled with nutrients and sedatives. The OUT bag collects the waste. Best of all, they grow at the perfect rate to complement the growth of a human. Children can be given a Baby-Bio® model, which is designed to grow along with them. Mattresses or “dead beds” are obsolete and rarely seen outside of low-income guest rooms and prisons.
Birth: The Exquisite Sound of One Hand Falling Off a Turnip Truck provided wild entertainment and a never ending “what the fuck” spewing from my mouth. In my humble opinion, S.T. Gulik is a rock star and followers should swear allegiance to his insanity. But that is not the world we live in and unfortunately the world we live in is filled with boring, stupid people who are easily offended by freedom of speech. Chill out MOFO’s, it’s fucking fiction. It’s fucking fun. But I get it. I wouldn’t want my mom reading this book yet I think it should be a requirement to graduate high school. Everyone is different and that’s what makes this book and our world the beautiful disasters that they are.
Open your mind and let the trip begin. S.T. Gulik will suck you in.
Buy this book here.
And if you think book one is a cuckoo clock without a cuckoo, check out his next one: