Tag Archives: Miley Cyrus


"No matter how good you are at your job, there will always be someone much less talented than you making a lot more money."

This might seem like  cop out statement for an artist, but I feel it's never a bad idea to reiterate just how terrible the taste of the general public is. Just look at the ten most popular youtube videos; 20% Miley Cyrus and 20% babies laughing. I have to confess that with my eyes closed I have difficulty distinguishing between them. 

this was the only video in the top ten that didn't make my eyeballs want to vomit:

But wait, there's a slightly larger quantity than was previously expected! Just take a look at the world of books and see how bad the situation is. I mean, I wouldn't mind sitting several thousand sales slots beneath, say Haruki Murakami, Margaret Atwood or Don Delilo. But these jokers? We're basically talking the literary equivalent of that god-awful 90s throwback grunge band you saw at O'Malleys a few weekends ago with the lead singer with a beer gut and a guns'n'roses tattoo. Picture that band raking in millions of dollars a year.

Yeah, fucking EXACTLY.



by Glenn "I hate everything except money" Beck

Sure, I know, everyone weighs in on Glenn Beck. He's an easy target. But here's the thing: HE SHOULDN'T BE. It shouldn't be so disgustingly, appalling easy to pick deathstar sized holes in the arguments and rationalisations of someone with such significant influence. Not content to simply pose as an appallingly poor journalist, Beck also writes the kind of fiction that gives gun-toting rednecks with a pathological fear of anyone who speaks 'foreign' a delightful shiver in their commie-hatin' loins. If you can read this book without wanting to remove your eyeballs with a melonballer, then I applaud you.

The plot is thinly veiled disguise for Beck's general polemic ranting, which can basically be summed up by just spitting on the universal declaration of human rights (which, coincidentally, currently ranks #830,082.)



by J R "no actually I've never heard of True Blood" Ward

This is a story about a vampire (I know, it already smacks of originality right?) but not just any kind of vampire! The protagonist of Lover Avenged is a SYMPATH vampire, who "gets energy from manipulating others' emotions." If only Edward Cullen gained his power from manipulating the hormones of menopausal midwives, he'd be stronger than the gravitational field of a collapsed star.

Okay so this sympath vampire's name is Revhenge (actual spelling), and surprisingly, he isn't part of a six-piece gangster rap posse from south-central LA. I could go on, but basically the hideous fact that this author penned a series of Sookie Stackhouse ripoff/general vampire cash in books so shamefacedly is only outstripped by the horror of their success. Which brings us to:

Marry him


by Lori Gottlieb (seems unfair to make fun of such a ridiculous name).

This is basically several hundred pages of Ms. Gottlieb screaming "Just settle!" Seriously. The fundamental premise of this book is that by searching for 'Mr Right' women miss their golden chance at settling down for a life of beige-coated, vanilla flavoured, AM radio sound tracked mediocrity with Mr. Good Enough. This is possibly the most depressing premise for a book I've EVER heard. And I've read the Bell Jar twice.


been a busy week. I've been flat out organising the interstate tour and
doing radio interviews (you know it's going to be quality airtime when
the guy out of the front of the station greets you with a joint in his
hand). My novel was finally released in Australia this week, and man,
Oprah will just NOT GET OFF MY CASE. Seriously. Yesterday she rang me
up and she was all like:


“Oh my god I loved your boooook!"

know, with that rising voice thing she does. Let me tell you, it might
be endearing to watch on your telebox but it is PAINFUL to listen to in
your ear. So I was like,

JMDonellan pic

"Listen Oprah, I'm actually on the last level of

Street fighter IV. Can you txt me later?"

“When can I get you on my show? I was going to have the Olsen twins on in January but their agent just called and said they'll be in rehab or prison or terrorist training camp or some crap. You free then?”

JMDonellan pic

  "Yeah Listen O-town I'm actually going to be in  Cambodia writing the next book in January."


“Well can I at least get a review to tweet to my peeps?"

JMDonellan pic

"Seriously, O-face, have you ever tried to beat Zangief on level 7? It's f**king hard. And trying to do so with an overexcited billionaire yammering on is making it a lot harder. Look, I'll write you a goddam review myself. Here tis:"




Look, I don’t know what the hell I was
when I wrote this. Didn’t I realise that no one reads books unless
they are about vampires or wizards? Perhaps I should have written a book about
a young vampire wizard on a quest to unlock an ancient mystery hidden within a
famous painting whilst pursuing romance with a sexy rockstar who leads a
double life as a crime scene investigator. That’d really get the money men

EdwardCullen   +      Wizhat4c+ 220px-MileyCyrusApr09 

= best selling piece o' crap ever.

Everyone from the tweenies to gay twenty-somethings to soccer mums
would be trampling over each other to get to their nearest Borders to pick that
shit up. It’d probably even be adapted into a movie directed by an ex-porn star
struggling to gain some credibility.

I mean, look at the vocabulary in
this book. Kaleidoscopic? Prometheal? It’s like I expect people to use a
dictionary, or their BRAINS or something? This book doesn’t mention twitter
even once! Was it written in the middle ages? A Beginner’s Guide to Dying in
has been called ‘witty and poignant.’ Poignant? When was the last time
you saw an ultra-hip Gen Y scenester type the word poignant into their iphone?
Never. That’s when.


"Does 'poignant' have two umlauts or three?"

My main regret is that this book
took me three years to put together from having the first spark on the rooftop
on a hotel in the Himalayas to telling my publishers to ‘shove it’ when they
wanted me to tweak the final chapter so that it featured a sex scene occurring
in a helicopter as the heroes escaped the exploding casino. It makes me cry to
think of all the things I could have done in that time. I could have learned
jujitsu, how to juggle flaming chainsaws, or how to make a clarinet out of a carrot.

know, stuff that would impress girls, instead of sitting in front of a laptop
for weeks on end bathing in my own sweat and trying to think a better metaphor
than ‘more out of place than the pope at a sex convention.’ (Suggestions?)
I give this book sixteen
thumbs down. Which is slightly better than the rating I gave the Twilight
series, and slightly worse than the rating I gave for this guy’s moustache:


"It's Movember all year round in my world bitches! PS: you can get the book here if you to write your own scathing review, or if you need something to hide your face from that creepy guy that always sits opposite from you on the bus. Yeah, you know the one I'm talking about."