Stars: 5
Review by: Mandy Apgar
I got this
simply because, on the cover, there is a man dressed like the bunny in
'Donnie Darko' sitting next to a suitcase. Totally random and it
encapsulates the rest perfectly. British semi expatriate
(he doesn't explain) Cash Peters lives in semi obscurity in California
writing travel bits that annoy the bejeesus out of him. He just really
hates people's reactions to his job, and, well, stupid people in
general. If a big ball of twine pops up, he gets sent
there, and people automatically assume he was flown first class with all
the trimmings. Bored to tears he finds himself in Amsterdam when he
happens to run into an old friend / ex who convinces him he should give
it one more go and write a book while he is
at it. The tackier the better. So he does. First of all - if you like
Boston, do not read this. He. Hated. It. But they were pretty rude to
him. While visiting the fine state of Massachusetts for example he
attends the Museum of Bad Art (chapter entitled "The
Old Woman with an Armchair Glued to Her Ass"), undertakes a mammoth
chapters long quest for the Museum of Dirt, the Lizzie Borden Bed &
Breakfast, another B&B minus the homicidal (acquitted my foot) owner
- this one being an irate Irish couple who are incensed
that he asks them to do anything, Salem (while at Bridget Bishop's 4
times daily trial he sneaks into the group delivering charges and yells
"she pinched my butt!"), and various other hijinks that nearly get him
kicked out time and again. He isn't adverse to
being a smarty about things, which is why the folks at Graceland got so
mad at him for telling a lady Elvis was dead. He got 10 death threats
after visiting the Precious Moments Chapel and doing a radio segment
that was rather less than precious. But also in
his defense, that place was creepy. And it had the exploding Jesus. And
oh, the joys of Branson, Missouri and the Mall of America. Honestly, I
don't think a lot of these are really in bad taste, but my relatives are
nuts so that might explain a lot.
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