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Rejection #2
ReejecttIIon - a number two
By reading ReejecttIIon, it’s likely you’ll discover: colorful short stories, funny flash fiction, hilarious cartoons, riveting reviews, wondrous anagrams and other assorted skits and titbits of under-achieving literary genius.
If you’re lucky, you might come across sci-fi tales about the privatization of words, horror stories about hair and ruminations on indie writing. It’s also possible that you’ll find commentary on the hazards of greedy literary agents and stories about washed up movie directors who receive financial backing from space aliens.
Publisher’s Meekly calls it: “a thought-provoking fable about technological hubris and the hazards of bioengineering.” (*This may or may not be referring to Jurassic Park and not ReejecttIIon.)
Reader’s Indigestion says: “this book quietly stands as one of the most powerful statements of the Civil Rights movement.” (*This may or may not actually refer to To Kill a Mockingbird and not ReejecttIIon.)
But why not read this seriously comical scattergun book and see what you can discover about ReejecttIIon for yourself?
If you’re lucky, you might come across sci-fi tales about the privatization of words, horror stories about hair and ruminations on indie writing. It’s also possible that you’ll find commentary on the hazards of greedy literary agents and stories about washed up movie directors who receive financial backing from space aliens.
Publisher’s Meekly calls it: “a thought-provoking fable about technological hubris and the hazards of bioengineering.” (*This may or may not be referring to Jurassic Park and not ReejecttIIon.)
Reader’s Indigestion says: “this book quietly stands as one of the most powerful statements of the Civil Rights movement.” (*This may or may not actually refer to To Kill a Mockingbird and not ReejecttIIon.)
But why not read this seriously comical scattergun book and see what you can discover about ReejecttIIon for yourself?
- GenresShort Stories
125 pages, Kindle Edition
First published February 29, 2016
1 person is currently reading
482 people want to read
About the author
Daniel Clausen
10 books532 followersDaniel has wanted to be a writer ever since he was in elementary school. He has published stories and articles in such magazines as Slipstream, Black Petals, Ken*Again, Aphelion, Spindrift, Zygote in my Coffee, BlazeVox, Euphony Journal, and Leading Edge Science Fiction (among many others).
He has written many books: The Sage and the Scarecrow (a novel), the Lexical Funk (a short story collection), Reejecttion (short story/ essay collection), ReejecttIIon -- A Number Two, (short story /essay collection collaboration with Harry Whitewolf), Something to Stem the Diminishing (short story / essay collection), The Underground Novel (a novel / self-help book), Pure Writerly Moments (a Wattpad collection of essays and stories), They're Making it Up as They Go Along (a literary experiment with Harry Whitewolf), and the Ghosts of Nagasaki (a novel).
His novel "Statues in the Cloud" is available on Amazon Kindle and in Paperback for a very reasonable price. https://www.amazon.com/Statues-Cloud-...
He has written many books: The Sage and the Scarecrow (a novel), the Lexical Funk (a short story collection), Reejecttion (short story/ essay collection), ReejecttIIon -- A Number Two, (short story /essay collection collaboration with Harry Whitewolf), Something to Stem the Diminishing (short story / essay collection), The Underground Novel (a novel / self-help book), Pure Writerly Moments (a Wattpad collection of essays and stories), They're Making it Up as They Go Along (a literary experiment with Harry Whitewolf), and the Ghosts of Nagasaki (a novel).
His novel "Statues in the Cloud" is available on Amazon Kindle and in Paperback for a very reasonable price. https://www.amazon.com/Statues-Cloud-...
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 31 reviews
April 30, 2016
I haven't had the pleasure of reading Reejecttion #1 by Daniel Clausen. As as matter of fact, I cannot even track down an available copy. Fortunately, I was sent a copy of ReejectIIon - the number two by Harry Whitewolf, co-author of this of this eclectic compilation.
Looking for something off the beaten path? There is plenty of nonlinear variety here. There are short stories, commentaries, and a speculative interview with a deceased author. There are book reviews, and there is shameless self-promotion. There are ingenius illustrations by the artist known as Mr. Wolf.
Subject matter for these pieces is cleverly conceived. A sheet of A4 paper reminisces about the good old days, when word processing meant the satisfying whack of a typewriter key. Speaking becomes a taxable offense, and words must be limited. The syndrome of "likeing" is explored. Dreadlocks take revenge. To B or not to B? This is the conundrum of a b-movie producer when his wife insists that he stage a production of King Lear. Things get complicated.
Be sure not to miss the coauthors' adventure as they climb atop Arthur Fonzarelli and jump the Jaws 2 shark. A movie executive comes along for the ride. One of them doesn't survive.
For those who enjoy a good challenge, there is an anagram section. I couldn't figure any of them out, so I cheated and read the answers. This section was pretty darned funny.
I appreciated the imaginative balance of humor and commentary that brought this collection together. I certainly hope that there will be a number three!
I received a complementary e-copy of this book from Harry Whitewolf in exchange for an honest review. Many thanks.
Looking for something off the beaten path? There is plenty of nonlinear variety here. There are short stories, commentaries, and a speculative interview with a deceased author. There are book reviews, and there is shameless self-promotion. There are ingenius illustrations by the artist known as Mr. Wolf.
Subject matter for these pieces is cleverly conceived. A sheet of A4 paper reminisces about the good old days, when word processing meant the satisfying whack of a typewriter key. Speaking becomes a taxable offense, and words must be limited. The syndrome of "likeing" is explored. Dreadlocks take revenge. To B or not to B? This is the conundrum of a b-movie producer when his wife insists that he stage a production of King Lear. Things get complicated.
Be sure not to miss the coauthors' adventure as they climb atop Arthur Fonzarelli and jump the Jaws 2 shark. A movie executive comes along for the ride. One of them doesn't survive.
For those who enjoy a good challenge, there is an anagram section. I couldn't figure any of them out, so I cheated and read the answers. This section was pretty darned funny.
I appreciated the imaginative balance of humor and commentary that brought this collection together. I certainly hope that there will be a number three!
I received a complementary e-copy of this book from Harry Whitewolf in exchange for an honest review. Many thanks.
March 15, 2023
What is ReejecttIIon?
ReejecttIIon is that which is not fit for the mainstream that work of fiction that is outside standardized thought, cultural hegemony, the dominant ideology, or any other label that represents what others admire and which this book is not; it is also, ironically, outside the subversive language I just used to subvert the mainstream; it is indifferent to the critique of the mainstream because it is too cool for that critique; thus it is the critique of the critique of the mainstream. The critique of the critique of the critique of the mainstream is called ReejectIIIon. But it will only be the sequel to this sequel if the critique of the critique of the mainstream earns money.
The writers of ReejecttIIon are therefore shallow. The fact that they do not deny this makes them cool. ReejecttIIon is that bit of fiction that comes to you unsuspected by word of mouth or by friendly solicitation by a man claiming to be a novelist at a bus station, postal office, or in an unemployment line, perhaps with the faint smell of alcohol on his breath, or urine on his pant leg.
ReejecttIIon stands for revolution, spontaneity, jouissance, exuberance and the rest. It is May ‘68 in France, but with Dick Clark hosting, and special guest appearances by Snoop Dog and Al Roker. Gil Scott Heron cohosts and wittingly comments that “the revolution has been televised.” We are all very amused.
Maybe ReejecttIIon is purity in art; beauty separated from capitalist concerns, the dominant values of the state, nationalistic concerns, the subversive concerns of socialists, public reformists, muckrakers, civil rights activists; it is autotelic, art for art’s sake, the autonomous work of a staggering genius. Somewhere in nineteenth century Victorian England, aristocratic aesthetes nod with pleasure. But nineteenth century aesthetes shouldn’t get too excited because, as I have mentioned, the authors are shallow and enjoy money.
ReejecttIIon means never having to say I love you. ReejecttIIon is the reason men leave their wives and take up gambling.
ReejecttIIon is a book to pass on; ReejecttIIon is a book to throw away. ReejecttIIon is a book for all time. ReejecttIIon is a book for right now.
ReejecttIIon is a book that will never be read. Breathing it helps, but too much is bad for your lungs. ReejecttIIon cannot be read because the moment it is read it ceases to be a thing reejectted and becomes a thing accepptedd; thus, only the sequel can be reejectted, but only if this book makes money.
Writing ReejecttIIon is a day at the beach for someone who doesn’t write but spends most of his time wordsmithing in the dank shops of adverbs, verbs, transitive verbs, subordinate clauses, conjunctions; grammar is quantum theory, and wordsmithing is an inexact science; for the moment one comprehends the rules of grammar is the moment one has already changed them; they no longer are rules but precedents, traditions; and wordsmithing stops being a profession and turns into an exercise in priggishness.
This is not an exercise in priggishness, this is ReejecttIIon.
ReejecttIIon is all of these things…
…or maybe just unsuccessful; yeah, just unsuccessful.
ReejecttIIon is that which is not fit for the mainstream that work of fiction that is outside standardized thought, cultural hegemony, the dominant ideology, or any other label that represents what others admire and which this book is not; it is also, ironically, outside the subversive language I just used to subvert the mainstream; it is indifferent to the critique of the mainstream because it is too cool for that critique; thus it is the critique of the critique of the mainstream. The critique of the critique of the critique of the mainstream is called ReejectIIIon. But it will only be the sequel to this sequel if the critique of the critique of the mainstream earns money.
The writers of ReejecttIIon are therefore shallow. The fact that they do not deny this makes them cool. ReejecttIIon is that bit of fiction that comes to you unsuspected by word of mouth or by friendly solicitation by a man claiming to be a novelist at a bus station, postal office, or in an unemployment line, perhaps with the faint smell of alcohol on his breath, or urine on his pant leg.
ReejecttIIon stands for revolution, spontaneity, jouissance, exuberance and the rest. It is May ‘68 in France, but with Dick Clark hosting, and special guest appearances by Snoop Dog and Al Roker. Gil Scott Heron cohosts and wittingly comments that “the revolution has been televised.” We are all very amused.
Maybe ReejecttIIon is purity in art; beauty separated from capitalist concerns, the dominant values of the state, nationalistic concerns, the subversive concerns of socialists, public reformists, muckrakers, civil rights activists; it is autotelic, art for art’s sake, the autonomous work of a staggering genius. Somewhere in nineteenth century Victorian England, aristocratic aesthetes nod with pleasure. But nineteenth century aesthetes shouldn’t get too excited because, as I have mentioned, the authors are shallow and enjoy money.
ReejecttIIon means never having to say I love you. ReejecttIIon is the reason men leave their wives and take up gambling.
ReejecttIIon is a book to pass on; ReejecttIIon is a book to throw away. ReejecttIIon is a book for all time. ReejecttIIon is a book for right now.
ReejecttIIon is a book that will never be read. Breathing it helps, but too much is bad for your lungs. ReejecttIIon cannot be read because the moment it is read it ceases to be a thing reejectted and becomes a thing accepptedd; thus, only the sequel can be reejectted, but only if this book makes money.
Writing ReejecttIIon is a day at the beach for someone who doesn’t write but spends most of his time wordsmithing in the dank shops of adverbs, verbs, transitive verbs, subordinate clauses, conjunctions; grammar is quantum theory, and wordsmithing is an inexact science; for the moment one comprehends the rules of grammar is the moment one has already changed them; they no longer are rules but precedents, traditions; and wordsmithing stops being a profession and turns into an exercise in priggishness.
This is not an exercise in priggishness, this is ReejecttIIon.
ReejecttIIon is all of these things…
…or maybe just unsuccessful; yeah, just unsuccessful.
February 27, 2019
This sequel has the best sequel title since the sequel to Sharknado, luckily this sequel is much better than that sequel, in fact it is better than a lot of sequels, it's right up there with the sequel to evil dead and the sequel to Mr Bean.
Mr Daniel and Mr Harry have managed to break down the fourth wall (page?) in the book, there is plenty of interaction with the reader, I liked the anagrams in the middle only managed to get 3 of though, so that ruined the book for me a bit. At times they become a really good comedy duo, the back and fourth reminded me of the two Ronnie at times. Mr. Wolf does some cute little illustrations, how they managed to locate him I'll never know.
The stories themselves are very good, you can really see each authors writing style in each of their stories. The pick of the bunch for me was "Word Tax" an amazing dystopian future that in my opinion needs to be made into a full length novel.
There are two issues I have though;
1. I was reminded just how bad Caddyshack II was, nobody needs to be put through that.
2. I really loved the rejection letters from book 1 and they were missing this time around.
So fix Caddyshack II and this book will get a 5* rating.
Blog review is here> https://felcherman.wordpress.com/2019...
Mr Daniel and Mr Harry have managed to break down the fourth wall (page?) in the book, there is plenty of interaction with the reader, I liked the anagrams in the middle only managed to get 3 of though, so that ruined the book for me a bit. At times they become a really good comedy duo, the back and fourth reminded me of the two Ronnie at times. Mr. Wolf does some cute little illustrations, how they managed to locate him I'll never know.
The stories themselves are very good, you can really see each authors writing style in each of their stories. The pick of the bunch for me was "Word Tax" an amazing dystopian future that in my opinion needs to be made into a full length novel.
There are two issues I have though;
1. I was reminded just how bad Caddyshack II was, nobody needs to be put through that.
2. I really loved the rejection letters from book 1 and they were missing this time around.
So fix Caddyshack II and this book will get a 5* rating.
Blog review is here> https://felcherman.wordpress.com/2019...
May 6, 2017
This second volume in the Reejecttion series sees Daniel Clausen return with more short stories, book reviews and other short pieces of writing. This time, however he is joined by fellow writer Harry Whitewolf and cartoonist/illustrator Mr. Wolf. (These may or may not be pseudonyms, depending on how much of the interview contained in these pages you believe.)
While the two writers have different styles, the collaboration works well as they have similar sensibilities (absolutely no sense, though). Whereas Clausen's writing is somewhat cerebral and darkly witty Whitewolf's writing is similar to what I think you'd get if Douglas Adams, George Orwell and Hunter S. Thompson had a matter transporter accident à la The Fly... in a good way. The juxtaposition works well and Mr. Wolf's amusing cartoons are the hundreds-and-thousands on the trifle.
I really enjoyed this collection of eccentricities and I hope these chaps continue to collaborate. I'm going to go now before the government starts taxing me by the word...
While the two writers have different styles, the collaboration works well as they have similar sensibilities (absolutely no sense, though). Whereas Clausen's writing is somewhat cerebral and darkly witty Whitewolf's writing is similar to what I think you'd get if Douglas Adams, George Orwell and Hunter S. Thompson had a matter transporter accident à la The Fly... in a good way. The juxtaposition works well and Mr. Wolf's amusing cartoons are the hundreds-and-thousands on the trifle.
I really enjoyed this collection of eccentricities and I hope these chaps continue to collaborate. I'm going to go now before the government starts taxing me by the word...
November 21, 2015
A great fun mix of awesome cartoons, incisive self-deprecation, reviews and wildly original short stories. The creators of Reejjejeeecccnnttiiiooon aren't fully assured of what they're creating, but it's fun watching them learn what it is, and I look forward to more editions of the same :)
December 14, 2015
So, another collection of pieces loosely based on whatever the first collection was, but reading through these it’s increasingly hard to remember if there was a conceptual agenda with that one at all either. As I read through this the first instalment kept intruding, a kind of welcome throwback to a different feel. This one’s just as playful but Whitewolf’s appearance ups the smirk factor where absurdist humour takes root, complimenting Clausen’s dryness and all round incisive commentary leanings.
Throughout, the inward glancing preoccupation with the potentially incestuous nature of literary culture and circles gets a firm prod, all accompanied by characterful illustrations from the mysterious Mr Wolf, whose vision for Clausen and Whitewolf has them coming on like Charlie Brown’s even more world weary uncle and Snoopy gone feral after digesting too many of those dog biscuits that have been sitting in the cupboard for years and gone a bit moist and smell funny.
I thought this was more all over the place than the first collection, not the inevitable result of making this sequel a joint project at all, more a reflection of the interplay between Clausen and Whitewolf. Enjoyable it is too. Clausen hits on some real sadness in some of his longer shorts, bringing a melancholic and acerbic tone that adds edge. Where Clausen and Whitewolf meet they relish riffing on the strange and disconcerting place the literary landscape can be, and are very funny in the process. The original conceit seems to have been taken as a pointer only and there’s far more meandering into more outer reaches.
More depth and laughs than should be expected from such a scattergun approach, this collection is short enough to not outstay its welcome whilst retaining a level of variety and contrast that is engaging. I really hope there’s going to be another one, as we all know that a trilogy is the natural place to leave a series. Then they can blow it all by overreaching and going for a quadrilogy (a much better word than tetralogy, which just sounds like the study of medical conditions most likely involving lots of pus). End of review.
Throughout, the inward glancing preoccupation with the potentially incestuous nature of literary culture and circles gets a firm prod, all accompanied by characterful illustrations from the mysterious Mr Wolf, whose vision for Clausen and Whitewolf has them coming on like Charlie Brown’s even more world weary uncle and Snoopy gone feral after digesting too many of those dog biscuits that have been sitting in the cupboard for years and gone a bit moist and smell funny.
I thought this was more all over the place than the first collection, not the inevitable result of making this sequel a joint project at all, more a reflection of the interplay between Clausen and Whitewolf. Enjoyable it is too. Clausen hits on some real sadness in some of his longer shorts, bringing a melancholic and acerbic tone that adds edge. Where Clausen and Whitewolf meet they relish riffing on the strange and disconcerting place the literary landscape can be, and are very funny in the process. The original conceit seems to have been taken as a pointer only and there’s far more meandering into more outer reaches.
More depth and laughs than should be expected from such a scattergun approach, this collection is short enough to not outstay its welcome whilst retaining a level of variety and contrast that is engaging. I really hope there’s going to be another one, as we all know that a trilogy is the natural place to leave a series. Then they can blow it all by overreaching and going for a quadrilogy (a much better word than tetralogy, which just sounds like the study of medical conditions most likely involving lots of pus). End of review.
November 1, 2016
Reejecttllon: A Number Two, is a collection of mainly short stories, surrounded by anagrams, fun cartoon drawings plus much more.
The short stories are a mixed bag, covering numerous genres, so there should be something for everyone to enjoy. The book is very strange, so strange that the authors have written an introduction to the book explaining what it is about. We then move onto letters between Daniel Clausen and Harry Whitewolf, discussing the collaboration between the two on the book.
I have to admit it took me a few attempts to get into it (not literally – I didn’t spend days trying to prise the book open). On a few occasions I got about 10 pages in, and then stopped. Eventually I put it away for a few weeks and tried again, picking up from where I left off, rather than try from the start again. I had managed to turn a corner and found myself scooting through it in no time.
It is a fun book, that goes against the norm and gives you something a little bit different. It won’t be for everyone’s taste, but those who like dry humour, British sitcom-style, will most likely get a laugh out of it.
Reviewed by Stacey at www.whisperingstories.com
The short stories are a mixed bag, covering numerous genres, so there should be something for everyone to enjoy. The book is very strange, so strange that the authors have written an introduction to the book explaining what it is about. We then move onto letters between Daniel Clausen and Harry Whitewolf, discussing the collaboration between the two on the book.
I have to admit it took me a few attempts to get into it (not literally – I didn’t spend days trying to prise the book open). On a few occasions I got about 10 pages in, and then stopped. Eventually I put it away for a few weeks and tried again, picking up from where I left off, rather than try from the start again. I had managed to turn a corner and found myself scooting through it in no time.
It is a fun book, that goes against the norm and gives you something a little bit different. It won’t be for everyone’s taste, but those who like dry humour, British sitcom-style, will most likely get a laugh out of it.
Reviewed by Stacey at www.whisperingstories.com
May 2, 2016
If there is anything harder than writing satire it’s collaboration and “RejecttIIon” succeeds at both. Daniel Clausen and Harry Whitewolf have put together a satire that softly goes for the fleshy parts of some sacred cows (sacred cows make the best meat) and leaves you chuckling as they savage the absurdities of the publishing industry, social media, our entertainment choices, and corporations and their mind-set, and like any good satire it skewers everything and everyone.
I was a “beta reader”, I received an early version of “RejecttIIon” and I couldn’t offer any critique and Clausen and Whitewolf they’ve improved it since then! “RejecttIIon” is part Mad Magazine, part Monty Python besides the stories, emails, letters and stories every once in a while a cartoon is thrown in.
If you’re looking for an afternoon or an evening of reading and are looking for a book that hit’s the nails on the head and drives them in “RejecttIIon” is the book you’ll want to read.
I was a “beta reader”, I received an early version of “RejecttIIon” and I couldn’t offer any critique and Clausen and Whitewolf they’ve improved it since then! “RejecttIIon” is part Mad Magazine, part Monty Python besides the stories, emails, letters and stories every once in a while a cartoon is thrown in.
If you’re looking for an afternoon or an evening of reading and are looking for a book that hit’s the nails on the head and drives them in “RejecttIIon” is the book you’ll want to read.
January 22, 2017
ReejecttIIon is a transatlantic collaboration between an American writer and an English poet. Daniel Clausen has written a number of fiction works, including a remarkable and original novel, The Ghosts of Nagasaki. Harry Whitewolf is a latter-day beat poet who writes (and recites) rhythmic, challenging poetry with a radical twist. He’s also written a couple of travel memoirs. But in ReejecttIIon Clausen and Whitewolf are just having fun.
It’s a collection of short stories, flash fiction, book reviews, spoof rejection letters and cartoons; the latter are rather charming. They’re by someone called Mr Wolf, who one guesses is Whitewolf; I thought they were great. (They include one of co-author Clausen yelling “Hey Harry, what’s another word for a synonym?” I also loved the literary agent, Max Bastard.) The stories are a mixture of serious (Clausen is a master of the form), lighthearted, satire and downright wacky. There’s even a collection of book-title anagrams.
ReejecttIIon is a bit of fun but now and then there’s a reminder that both these writers have a hard edge to them. It’s visible in the piece Word Tax by Whitewolf, in which words are privatised and you must pay to use them. It’s also there in Clausen’s Your Relationship With Edward Grey, a short story that will resonate with anyone who knows office life and the world of work.
ReejecttIIon isn’t a serious book, but it might encourage readers to look at Clausen and Whitewolf’s heavier stuff. If it gets them to read the weirdly brilliant The Ghosts of Nagasaki, or to enjoy Whitewolf’s politically acute and provocative poetry, that’s all to the good.
It’s a collection of short stories, flash fiction, book reviews, spoof rejection letters and cartoons; the latter are rather charming. They’re by someone called Mr Wolf, who one guesses is Whitewolf; I thought they were great. (They include one of co-author Clausen yelling “Hey Harry, what’s another word for a synonym?” I also loved the literary agent, Max Bastard.) The stories are a mixture of serious (Clausen is a master of the form), lighthearted, satire and downright wacky. There’s even a collection of book-title anagrams.
ReejecttIIon is a bit of fun but now and then there’s a reminder that both these writers have a hard edge to them. It’s visible in the piece Word Tax by Whitewolf, in which words are privatised and you must pay to use them. It’s also there in Clausen’s Your Relationship With Edward Grey, a short story that will resonate with anyone who knows office life and the world of work.
ReejecttIIon isn’t a serious book, but it might encourage readers to look at Clausen and Whitewolf’s heavier stuff. If it gets them to read the weirdly brilliant The Ghosts of Nagasaki, or to enjoy Whitewolf’s politically acute and provocative poetry, that’s all to the good.
March 25, 2016
I received a free copy of this book from Daniel Clausen for an honest review.
If you enjoy short story collections that have a nice, purposeful flow, this IS NOT the collection for you. If you have a slightly (or not so slightly) twisted and warped sense of humor you will love this collection.
I am a fan of Clausen's and have read a few things by him already but this is my first taste of Harry Whitewolf and I can honestly say I enjoyed every bite. I breathed the book like was asked in the intro and am glad I did.
I really think my favorite story was Word Tax by Harry Whitewolf. I am a talker so the entire premise of this story terrified me and I think that is why I enjoyed it so much
A close second was Lester Goran's Last Song: A Sentimental Review of Bing Crosby's Last Song by Daniel Clausen. Why did I enjoy it? I can't entirely say. I think it was the randomness of thoughts, the vividness of the ideas that grabbed me.
Really honestly there is very little about this collection that did not spark my interest in some way, shape or form. I could go on and on about what I liked about this collection, but really why listen to me when you could breathe in this collection yourself?
If you enjoy short story collections that have a nice, purposeful flow, this IS NOT the collection for you. If you have a slightly (or not so slightly) twisted and warped sense of humor you will love this collection.
I am a fan of Clausen's and have read a few things by him already but this is my first taste of Harry Whitewolf and I can honestly say I enjoyed every bite. I breathed the book like was asked in the intro and am glad I did.
I really think my favorite story was Word Tax by Harry Whitewolf. I am a talker so the entire premise of this story terrified me and I think that is why I enjoyed it so much
A close second was Lester Goran's Last Song: A Sentimental Review of Bing Crosby's Last Song by Daniel Clausen. Why did I enjoy it? I can't entirely say. I think it was the randomness of thoughts, the vividness of the ideas that grabbed me.
Really honestly there is very little about this collection that did not spark my interest in some way, shape or form. I could go on and on about what I liked about this collection, but really why listen to me when you could breathe in this collection yourself?
March 14, 2017
Pick up a copy of this short (126 pages) read, and experience a unique book. The stories are a little bizarre, and a look lot funny. This is billed as "under achieving literary genius", that may be a bit of a stretch on both parts. But, it is fun! There was only one, yes only one, "story" that I did not like... No, I won't share which, I consider those good odds. Conversely, there were a few I immensely enjoyed! Parts of this short read are akin to being a fly on the wall during a discussion between two drunk friends, you just try to not have fun with those... Good luck.
This was just far enough out of the box to be captivating. Fair warning though, don't expect deep dramatic prose. This tome is all about fun, and it delivers!
This was just far enough out of the box to be captivating. Fair warning though, don't expect deep dramatic prose. This tome is all about fun, and it delivers!
September 6, 2021
This book is absurd and weird and delightful. You can get the gist from the summary alone...
Functioning as a display of their cleverness, it is an amalgamation of short stories, anecdotes, book reviews, URLs to more free stories, anagrams, and wordplay. Oh, and cartoons.
Read the rest at: https://blackandwhitepandaduh.wordpre...
Functioning as a display of their cleverness, it is an amalgamation of short stories, anecdotes, book reviews, URLs to more free stories, anagrams, and wordplay. Oh, and cartoons.
Read the rest at: https://blackandwhitepandaduh.wordpre...
March 30, 2025
Hello everyone,
Here is an excerpt from the book:
Lights, camera, action...
Science Fiction Theater Presents
A Short Story by Daniel Clausen
Bud Crisco was not about selling popcorn or movie tickets. "Nah. Leave that to the eggheads upstairs," he would say between puffs from his cigar. "I’m about making movies. You know, the kind you can bring a classy broad to and she won't get bored or nothing."
Most of Bud’s movies were of the drivein variety. That’s not to say that Bud never got his shot at making classic films. "What do you mean? Attack of the FortyFoot Killer Cockroach was a classic."
And although Bud’s accomplishments went unrecognized by his contemporaries, the critics, and almost anyone who had attained the equivalent of a high school education, for a special breed of people, Bud’s people, his movies meant the world: they were the difference between a Friday night drinking turpentine and a night of blood filled entertainment, between making it with your cousin and not making it with your cousin.
The difference between plenty of tentacles and too little tentacles was measured in the gasps of slack jawed yokels. And, for the far off planet of Salvadares, his movies would bear such close resemblance to their own style of classical blob dramaturgy that he was considered in his own right a classicist; monuments were erected in his honor.
In Bud Crisco’s small world, somewhere between Hollywood and the drivein, he was a legend. It was only Bud’s girlfriend, who, after reading the reviews of one of their recently released movies, made Bud think about his artistic style of film making. To which Bud’s producer vehemently replied, "What do broads know?" But this did not satisfy Bud, who was deeply concerned by the sudden discontentment of his companion and star actress none other than Beatrice Brazire, who was, as Bud described her: "One of those French actresses, or maybe she’s Asian. I get the two confused. Anyway, she’s hot stuff. She’s got it where it counts."
Whenever Beatrice would complain, Bud would drink and go into one of his creative streaks, producing more movie scripts whose titles included the words Forty Foot. To which Bud later explained, "You see it has to be exactly ‘Forty Foot’ or else you lose the script’s credibility. C’mon, who’s going to pay to see a thirtynine and a half foot woman? Unless she has tentacles. Number one rule: tentacles make everything better."
But to each new script Beatrice would only complain. "No more ‘Forty Foot’ anythings," she would often say, throwing heavy things in Bud’s direction.
"What about tentacles?"
"No more tentacles."
"But..."
"No more tentacles. I want to do Shakespeare."
Bud would slap his face, and say in exasperation, "Shakespeare? You want to do Shakespeare. Oh Beatrice, not the Shakespeare."
"I want to play Juliet, or King Lear’s daughter, what’s her name."
Bud would just shake his head and drink. The scripts would pile up and still his French or Asian star would refuse to play in his movies. Bud would cry sometimes at night as his visions of Forty Foot llamas and snakes went unrealized. And so, when the studio called and asked him for his next script, he brought the studio heads none of the scripts he had worked so hard to create; instead, he brought them King Lear a production script by Bud Crisco.
He would never work for Honk and Horny pictures again. "I’m finished, do you hear me Beatrice! I’m finished, and it’s all thanks to you and this Shakespeare guy. What is this King Lear? It’s terrible no tentacles, no ray guns. Where’s the drama Beatrice?"
"Shut up Bud. I want to make King Lear and I want to play Cordelia."
"No studio will hire me to do a Shakespeare, Beatrice." "Then we’ll do it in the theater, Bud. We’ll do Broadway."
Bud’s mouth dropped open. "So now we’re going to do a Broadway show. I love you, Beatrice, but you’re tearing me apart." "What about me Bud? Do you think I like being the blond broad everyone leers at in your Bmovies?"
"Bmovies! Bmovies! My movies are classics! Gone wid' da Wind, Citizen Kane, War a da Worlds, none of them hold a candle to Bud Crisco!" he exclaimed with a calamitous shout. And then Bud became sullen.
"But...I’m finished now. Who would hire me now that I’ve gone the way of the Shakespeare?"
Beatrice thought about this for a second. "I’ll hire you Bud hire yourself. The two of us combined, we got enough money to make a production. Except this time no Bmovie, no fortyfoot animals, no tentacles. Bud, this is your chance to be the director you could have been."
Bud Crisco’s eyes grew wide. "By god, you’re right. I’ll show those bums at Honk and Horny pictures...I’ll make the greatest production of King Lear ever. It’ll be marvelous. We’ll get all the regulars: Johnny Crotch, Armand the make up guy, Bill Star will do special effects. It’ll be brilliant! Broadway, here I come!"
And so, with his cast from Honk and Horny, Bud Crisco began the production of King Lear...which faltered and stumbled through months of preparation. Throughout rehearsals Bud would cry: "It needs to be spectacular!" And so he hired dance coordinators and pyrotechnicians, but it was when Bud hired the London Symphony Orchestra that he eventually had to give up his house. And so, he took up living in the theater’s janitor closet.
With two weeks left until opening night, Bud still didn’t have a good King Lear. "Johnny Crotch just isn’t cutting it," he proclaimed. "I wonder if we can afford Marlon Brando I hear he works for hamburgers now." But Bud Crisco knew there weren’t enough hamburgers in New York to get Brando to work in his production a production that just wasn’t spectacular enough.
"I’m ruined again!" he yelled during rehearsals, as the actors tripped over their lines, and lights exploded on stage. "We need more dancers," he would proclaim during dance numbers. And when the actors still tripped over lines, he would hold a gun up in the air and say, "Next person who messes up a line gets one."
In part it was the actors’ deaths, the coverups, payments to the Mafia, but mostly it was Bud’s need to make what he was doing spectacular that drained all of Bud’s energy, along with his bank account. One week before opening night, Bud found himself sitting alone in the theater, his face buried in his hands. "What am I going to do?" he said to himself. He stood up and pointed a finger to the sky. "This is all your fault, isn’t it? Just because I stole from the church poor box all those years when I was struggling as a director. What do you know? You’ve never been thousands of dollars over budget on a production before. You probably had millions of dollars to do this whole Earth thing. Probably came under budget too. That’s probably why we have little things like caterpillars. If you were really almighty, you would have made them fortyfoot caterpillars. Wait a minute. You’re the almighty, the Gman, the guy with unlimited power: you could fix it so a couple of lightning bolts come down during the show; you could make a couple of dancers spontaneously combust in front of the audience’s eyes. You could do that. You’re ‘the God’. You like helping out the little guy; that’s probably why caterpillars are so small you probably wanted to make some creatures you could help out from time to time. That’s why I’m not 40 feet tall. Oh boy, do I need your help right now. What da ya say? Can you help out Bud Crisco? Please. Just this once."
Bud waited for an answer, he listened intently as silence beat steadily on his eardrums. It was the most patient he had ever been, because he knew that it was only a matter of...
Footsteps. A man in a suit.
"Mr. Crisco, I represent a very powerful client who wishes to help you fund your production. Please, come with me." "Where are we going? You’re not taking me to hell, are you?" "We’re just going to my office."
Bud Crisco materialized spontaneously in a stuffy office with no windows, a single desk, a single ceiling fan, and a big blob with tentacles, who was accompanied by two other smaller blobs.
"Mr. Crisco, I’d like to introduce you to my client Mr. Zultac, ruler of the planet Salvadares."
Bud’s eyes grew wide. "Tentacles, look at all those tentacles! It’s great!"
"Mr. Crisco, my client is a big fan of your movies and..." "Who isn’t?"
The man in the suit adjusted his tie and continued. "He would like to commission you to make a movie of his life."
"Yeah, well you see, I’m doing this King Lear thing and I’ve worked my ass off on it..."
"Mr. Zultac insists that you make his biography, Mr. Crisco," the man in the suit said, somewhat sterner, trying to make Bud understand the immediacy of his venture.
"You, script read," Zultac said, as one of his tentacles handed him a script.
"I already told you I can’t do a biography right now. I’m working on this King Lear thing."
"I’m afraid Mr. Zultac will insist on devouring you if you don’t make his production."
Bud Crisco rubbed his chin. He went deep into thought. He thought, and then he thought some more.
"All this thinking is making my head hurt. I need a drink." The man in the suit went to his cabinet and brought out a bottle of whiskey. He poured Bud a glass, and handed it to him.
What would Beatrice think if I dumped her King Lear to do Zultac: the biography? Bud thought to himself. Bud looked at his whiskey, and he was sure he could see Beatrice shaking a finger at him.
"But he’s going to eat me Beatrice!" he said out loud to the glass of whiskey. Then he thought he could hear Beatrice whisper something to him. "What was that?" He put his ear up to the whiskey glass. "That’s brilliant. Why didn’t I think of that?" He looked at Zultac, swallowed the contents of the glass, and then said, "Zultac baby, read this." He produced a copy of King Lear from his pocket, and placed it in one of his tentacles.
"This not Zultac biography."
"But it is. In all its abstract beauty, it is your life! A mighty ruler: King Lear, King Zultac, it’s you, ya great big gelatinous blob you."
Zultac opened the play. "Me King Lear is."
"It’s brilliant! In the second act you digest Johnny Crotch. All your bodyguard friends can be in the fight scenes. Bring your ray guns. Bring lots of things that explode. It’s gonna be spectacular!"
The man in the suit turned to Zultac and waited for a response.
Zultac bellowed, "Crisco genius is."
"Marvelous!" Crisco shouted.
"Great, let me just draw up the contracts and…." Zultac grabbed hold of his agent with his slimy tentacles, devoured him, and laughed. Crisco couldn’t help but laugh with him. "Hey, save that magic for the stage big guy."
King Lear, a Bud Crisco production, sold out opening night, and literally brought the house down. Zultac allowed the crowd and the critics to survive via force field so that they could give Bud Crisco, Zultac, Johnny Crotch, Beatrice Brazire, and the rest of Forty Foot Productions a standing ovation. The critics raved about King Lear, which was called in retrospect "a product of Crisconian genius."
"I told you I’d make you a star Beatrice," Bud said to his one and only love after the production.
"I always knew you could do Broadway."
"Me Zultac love Bud Crisco."
"Right back atcha you beautiful blob of…whatever it is you’re made of." And then, Bud saw Zultac’s green slime turn red. So, what are you going to do next Bud Crisco? "It’s a funny thing you should ask. I got this idea for a comedy. You see this guy, played by Zultac, goes on this blind date with this girl who turns out to be a fortyfoot giant, who comes from this planet..."
The End
This has been a
Bud Crisco
Forty Foot Production
Here is an excerpt from the book:
Lights, camera, action...
Science Fiction Theater Presents
A Short Story by Daniel Clausen
Bud Crisco was not about selling popcorn or movie tickets. "Nah. Leave that to the eggheads upstairs," he would say between puffs from his cigar. "I’m about making movies. You know, the kind you can bring a classy broad to and she won't get bored or nothing."
Most of Bud’s movies were of the drivein variety. That’s not to say that Bud never got his shot at making classic films. "What do you mean? Attack of the FortyFoot Killer Cockroach was a classic."
And although Bud’s accomplishments went unrecognized by his contemporaries, the critics, and almost anyone who had attained the equivalent of a high school education, for a special breed of people, Bud’s people, his movies meant the world: they were the difference between a Friday night drinking turpentine and a night of blood filled entertainment, between making it with your cousin and not making it with your cousin.
The difference between plenty of tentacles and too little tentacles was measured in the gasps of slack jawed yokels. And, for the far off planet of Salvadares, his movies would bear such close resemblance to their own style of classical blob dramaturgy that he was considered in his own right a classicist; monuments were erected in his honor.
In Bud Crisco’s small world, somewhere between Hollywood and the drivein, he was a legend. It was only Bud’s girlfriend, who, after reading the reviews of one of their recently released movies, made Bud think about his artistic style of film making. To which Bud’s producer vehemently replied, "What do broads know?" But this did not satisfy Bud, who was deeply concerned by the sudden discontentment of his companion and star actress none other than Beatrice Brazire, who was, as Bud described her: "One of those French actresses, or maybe she’s Asian. I get the two confused. Anyway, she’s hot stuff. She’s got it where it counts."
Whenever Beatrice would complain, Bud would drink and go into one of his creative streaks, producing more movie scripts whose titles included the words Forty Foot. To which Bud later explained, "You see it has to be exactly ‘Forty Foot’ or else you lose the script’s credibility. C’mon, who’s going to pay to see a thirtynine and a half foot woman? Unless she has tentacles. Number one rule: tentacles make everything better."
But to each new script Beatrice would only complain. "No more ‘Forty Foot’ anythings," she would often say, throwing heavy things in Bud’s direction.
"What about tentacles?"
"No more tentacles."
"But..."
"No more tentacles. I want to do Shakespeare."
Bud would slap his face, and say in exasperation, "Shakespeare? You want to do Shakespeare. Oh Beatrice, not the Shakespeare."
"I want to play Juliet, or King Lear’s daughter, what’s her name."
Bud would just shake his head and drink. The scripts would pile up and still his French or Asian star would refuse to play in his movies. Bud would cry sometimes at night as his visions of Forty Foot llamas and snakes went unrealized. And so, when the studio called and asked him for his next script, he brought the studio heads none of the scripts he had worked so hard to create; instead, he brought them King Lear a production script by Bud Crisco.
He would never work for Honk and Horny pictures again. "I’m finished, do you hear me Beatrice! I’m finished, and it’s all thanks to you and this Shakespeare guy. What is this King Lear? It’s terrible no tentacles, no ray guns. Where’s the drama Beatrice?"
"Shut up Bud. I want to make King Lear and I want to play Cordelia."
"No studio will hire me to do a Shakespeare, Beatrice." "Then we’ll do it in the theater, Bud. We’ll do Broadway."
Bud’s mouth dropped open. "So now we’re going to do a Broadway show. I love you, Beatrice, but you’re tearing me apart." "What about me Bud? Do you think I like being the blond broad everyone leers at in your Bmovies?"
"Bmovies! Bmovies! My movies are classics! Gone wid' da Wind, Citizen Kane, War a da Worlds, none of them hold a candle to Bud Crisco!" he exclaimed with a calamitous shout. And then Bud became sullen.
"But...I’m finished now. Who would hire me now that I’ve gone the way of the Shakespeare?"
Beatrice thought about this for a second. "I’ll hire you Bud hire yourself. The two of us combined, we got enough money to make a production. Except this time no Bmovie, no fortyfoot animals, no tentacles. Bud, this is your chance to be the director you could have been."
Bud Crisco’s eyes grew wide. "By god, you’re right. I’ll show those bums at Honk and Horny pictures...I’ll make the greatest production of King Lear ever. It’ll be marvelous. We’ll get all the regulars: Johnny Crotch, Armand the make up guy, Bill Star will do special effects. It’ll be brilliant! Broadway, here I come!"
And so, with his cast from Honk and Horny, Bud Crisco began the production of King Lear...which faltered and stumbled through months of preparation. Throughout rehearsals Bud would cry: "It needs to be spectacular!" And so he hired dance coordinators and pyrotechnicians, but it was when Bud hired the London Symphony Orchestra that he eventually had to give up his house. And so, he took up living in the theater’s janitor closet.
With two weeks left until opening night, Bud still didn’t have a good King Lear. "Johnny Crotch just isn’t cutting it," he proclaimed. "I wonder if we can afford Marlon Brando I hear he works for hamburgers now." But Bud Crisco knew there weren’t enough hamburgers in New York to get Brando to work in his production a production that just wasn’t spectacular enough.
"I’m ruined again!" he yelled during rehearsals, as the actors tripped over their lines, and lights exploded on stage. "We need more dancers," he would proclaim during dance numbers. And when the actors still tripped over lines, he would hold a gun up in the air and say, "Next person who messes up a line gets one."
In part it was the actors’ deaths, the coverups, payments to the Mafia, but mostly it was Bud’s need to make what he was doing spectacular that drained all of Bud’s energy, along with his bank account. One week before opening night, Bud found himself sitting alone in the theater, his face buried in his hands. "What am I going to do?" he said to himself. He stood up and pointed a finger to the sky. "This is all your fault, isn’t it? Just because I stole from the church poor box all those years when I was struggling as a director. What do you know? You’ve never been thousands of dollars over budget on a production before. You probably had millions of dollars to do this whole Earth thing. Probably came under budget too. That’s probably why we have little things like caterpillars. If you were really almighty, you would have made them fortyfoot caterpillars. Wait a minute. You’re the almighty, the Gman, the guy with unlimited power: you could fix it so a couple of lightning bolts come down during the show; you could make a couple of dancers spontaneously combust in front of the audience’s eyes. You could do that. You’re ‘the God’. You like helping out the little guy; that’s probably why caterpillars are so small you probably wanted to make some creatures you could help out from time to time. That’s why I’m not 40 feet tall. Oh boy, do I need your help right now. What da ya say? Can you help out Bud Crisco? Please. Just this once."
Bud waited for an answer, he listened intently as silence beat steadily on his eardrums. It was the most patient he had ever been, because he knew that it was only a matter of...
Footsteps. A man in a suit.
"Mr. Crisco, I represent a very powerful client who wishes to help you fund your production. Please, come with me." "Where are we going? You’re not taking me to hell, are you?" "We’re just going to my office."
Bud Crisco materialized spontaneously in a stuffy office with no windows, a single desk, a single ceiling fan, and a big blob with tentacles, who was accompanied by two other smaller blobs.
"Mr. Crisco, I’d like to introduce you to my client Mr. Zultac, ruler of the planet Salvadares."
Bud’s eyes grew wide. "Tentacles, look at all those tentacles! It’s great!"
"Mr. Crisco, my client is a big fan of your movies and..." "Who isn’t?"
The man in the suit adjusted his tie and continued. "He would like to commission you to make a movie of his life."
"Yeah, well you see, I’m doing this King Lear thing and I’ve worked my ass off on it..."
"Mr. Zultac insists that you make his biography, Mr. Crisco," the man in the suit said, somewhat sterner, trying to make Bud understand the immediacy of his venture.
"You, script read," Zultac said, as one of his tentacles handed him a script.
"I already told you I can’t do a biography right now. I’m working on this King Lear thing."
"I’m afraid Mr. Zultac will insist on devouring you if you don’t make his production."
Bud Crisco rubbed his chin. He went deep into thought. He thought, and then he thought some more.
"All this thinking is making my head hurt. I need a drink." The man in the suit went to his cabinet and brought out a bottle of whiskey. He poured Bud a glass, and handed it to him.
What would Beatrice think if I dumped her King Lear to do Zultac: the biography? Bud thought to himself. Bud looked at his whiskey, and he was sure he could see Beatrice shaking a finger at him.
"But he’s going to eat me Beatrice!" he said out loud to the glass of whiskey. Then he thought he could hear Beatrice whisper something to him. "What was that?" He put his ear up to the whiskey glass. "That’s brilliant. Why didn’t I think of that?" He looked at Zultac, swallowed the contents of the glass, and then said, "Zultac baby, read this." He produced a copy of King Lear from his pocket, and placed it in one of his tentacles.
"This not Zultac biography."
"But it is. In all its abstract beauty, it is your life! A mighty ruler: King Lear, King Zultac, it’s you, ya great big gelatinous blob you."
Zultac opened the play. "Me King Lear is."
"It’s brilliant! In the second act you digest Johnny Crotch. All your bodyguard friends can be in the fight scenes. Bring your ray guns. Bring lots of things that explode. It’s gonna be spectacular!"
The man in the suit turned to Zultac and waited for a response.
Zultac bellowed, "Crisco genius is."
"Marvelous!" Crisco shouted.
"Great, let me just draw up the contracts and…." Zultac grabbed hold of his agent with his slimy tentacles, devoured him, and laughed. Crisco couldn’t help but laugh with him. "Hey, save that magic for the stage big guy."
King Lear, a Bud Crisco production, sold out opening night, and literally brought the house down. Zultac allowed the crowd and the critics to survive via force field so that they could give Bud Crisco, Zultac, Johnny Crotch, Beatrice Brazire, and the rest of Forty Foot Productions a standing ovation. The critics raved about King Lear, which was called in retrospect "a product of Crisconian genius."
"I told you I’d make you a star Beatrice," Bud said to his one and only love after the production.
"I always knew you could do Broadway."
"Me Zultac love Bud Crisco."
"Right back atcha you beautiful blob of…whatever it is you’re made of." And then, Bud saw Zultac’s green slime turn red. So, what are you going to do next Bud Crisco? "It’s a funny thing you should ask. I got this idea for a comedy. You see this guy, played by Zultac, goes on this blind date with this girl who turns out to be a fortyfoot giant, who comes from this planet..."
The End
This has been a
Bud Crisco
Forty Foot Production
June 7, 2016
ReejecttIIon has far too little scatology and far too many gems to be considered “a number 2”, but it is a self-deprecating sequel, where the fulcrum of youth is gracelessly approaching middle age is Quixotic and satirical, sad, liberating and lyrical.
Whitewolf and Clausen’s illustrated compendium of Hunter S Thompson-esque essays mixed with Bradburian sci-fi keeps you smirking and guffawing to yourself in public. Inside you’ll find humorist stories about a type writer ribbon being a bit of a sadist (and print snob!), a silent film where the challenges of today are so bald, so blatant, both sharper and softened by a futuristic context, and the melancholic absurdity of the white dude with dreads suddenly going bald (or losing tentacles).
It’s social commentary that makes you wonder about the worth of words (or books or writers or people)- as portrayed in a dystopia where words are so highly taxed only the rich can “afford” to speak, while regular folks hope to win words on reality game shows reminiscent of Family Feud, but you never win a useful word like “motherfucker”, only ones like “trouser-presses” and what are you supposed to do with that? I don’t know but Whitewolf and Clausen will think of something.
ReejecttIIon is satire at its finest- with witty quips, dark humor and the perfect dose of sarcasm. I highly recommend it, especially for those who frequently have those Talking Heads moments and wonder how in the hell you got here.
Whitewolf and Clausen’s illustrated compendium of Hunter S Thompson-esque essays mixed with Bradburian sci-fi keeps you smirking and guffawing to yourself in public. Inside you’ll find humorist stories about a type writer ribbon being a bit of a sadist (and print snob!), a silent film where the challenges of today are so bald, so blatant, both sharper and softened by a futuristic context, and the melancholic absurdity of the white dude with dreads suddenly going bald (or losing tentacles).
It’s social commentary that makes you wonder about the worth of words (or books or writers or people)- as portrayed in a dystopia where words are so highly taxed only the rich can “afford” to speak, while regular folks hope to win words on reality game shows reminiscent of Family Feud, but you never win a useful word like “motherfucker”, only ones like “trouser-presses” and what are you supposed to do with that? I don’t know but Whitewolf and Clausen will think of something.
ReejecttIIon is satire at its finest- with witty quips, dark humor and the perfect dose of sarcasm. I highly recommend it, especially for those who frequently have those Talking Heads moments and wonder how in the hell you got here.
April 5, 2016
A great mix of outrageous short stories, reviews and cartoons from two very talented writers who compliment each other well - Whitewolf's craziness to Clausen's dry wit. I missed the rejection letters from the first collection but look forward to more of the same from this duo.
Thanks to the authors for the free copy in exchange for an honest review.
Thanks to the authors for the free copy in exchange for an honest review.
Read
March 15, 2016You can start reading ReejecttIIon here:
https://www.goodreads.com/reader/7516...
Cheers!
August 17, 2016
A humorous romp interspersed with witty cartoons, word games and laugh out loud stories that definitely entertain.
August 26, 2021
I read “ReejecttIIn,” by Daniel Clausen immediately after reading his prior book, “Reejecttion,” which I loved. “ReejecttIIon” is similar, but about twice as long. It also contains essays, short stories, and lots more cartoons than the original book. I think I enjoyed “Reejecttion” better than this book, but both books are great.
If you’ve read “ReejecttIIon,” you need to grab this one now and read it. If not, read “Reejecttion” and then read this one. Both contain great short stories and essays, guaranteed to make you think.
If you’ve read “ReejecttIIon,” you need to grab this one now and read it. If not, read “Reejecttion” and then read this one. Both contain great short stories and essays, guaranteed to make you think.
July 19, 2016
Rejection is hard for everyone, but some how these guys make it seem hilarious. This book almost broke my ribs I swear. The perfect book for a quick read. This is a story story collection, with fun comics included. This isn't the book for everyone, but if you like witty sarcasm go out and buy this wonderful book.
This is number two in a series of books. I did not read the first one, but I don't think it took away anything from this one. So if you hadn't read the first one but want to read this one, have no fear.
This funny little book is broken up by many short little tales. I had two favorites.
The first was (The Novel We'll Never Write) Novel Novel Ideas. I love that they compare interns, to well slaves, because lets be honest. I enjoyed the ideas that Harry shared in this little section. The second was the word tax, this was scary for me, because if you know me.. well let's just say I can be quite a chatterbox.
Overall this was a fun little read. I can't wait to check out more by these authors!
Disclaimer, as always I received this book for free from the author in exchange for my honest and completely unbiased opinion. All opinions are my own. I recommend this book to anyone who has been rejected or anyone who needs to laugh out loud.
This is number two in a series of books. I did not read the first one, but I don't think it took away anything from this one. So if you hadn't read the first one but want to read this one, have no fear.
This funny little book is broken up by many short little tales. I had two favorites.
The first was (The Novel We'll Never Write) Novel Novel Ideas. I love that they compare interns, to well slaves, because lets be honest. I enjoyed the ideas that Harry shared in this little section. The second was the word tax, this was scary for me, because if you know me.. well let's just say I can be quite a chatterbox.
Overall this was a fun little read. I can't wait to check out more by these authors!
Disclaimer, as always I received this book for free from the author in exchange for my honest and completely unbiased opinion. All opinions are my own. I recommend this book to anyone who has been rejected or anyone who needs to laugh out loud.
September 11, 2016
Great short stories and blurbs for a nice quick read. This is a very eclectic book, as there are two authors and a few different kind of "chapters". I won't take too long and tell you about all of them, but would like to highlight a few. My favorites, of course. "Show and tell" was a great short story about the future of show and tells and the future of learning via chips and programs. Another that I liked was "Science Fiction Theater Presents" about Bud Crisco, a monster movie maker, trying to make a theater production of "King Lear" , but getting hired by a real * won't tell you, you'll have to read to find out* .I also enjoyed "Fred's Dreads", " Lester Goran's Last Song", and "Word Tax". Yeah, that last one had some real commentary about the class system. If you liked the first book, you'll enjoy this one as well.
August 26, 2016
ReejecttIIon is unlike any book I've read before. There were parts I really liked and then some parts I wasn't crazy about. All in all, it kept me pretty entertained.
At times, while reading this book, I wondered what in the world I was reading! I could myself laughing out loud several times. There were also times that I was completely confused about what I had just read. It made for a very interesting read.
I can see why ReejecttIIon has so many great reviews already! It was funny, confusing, entertaining, weird, and a bunch of other things all wrapped up in one. Not bad, not bad at all!
*Note: I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for an honest review.
At times, while reading this book, I wondered what in the world I was reading! I could myself laughing out loud several times. There were also times that I was completely confused about what I had just read. It made for a very interesting read.
I can see why ReejecttIIon has so many great reviews already! It was funny, confusing, entertaining, weird, and a bunch of other things all wrapped up in one. Not bad, not bad at all!
*Note: I received a copy of this book from the author in exchange for an honest review.
June 18, 2016
Good fun
I enjoyed this collection of writings...it's a real mix truth be told reviews,short stories,drawings and even a brain teaser...add to that some surprise extras and yes this isn't the average book.
The short stories in particular are well written and concise I could write more about them but I feel in doing so I would ruin the surprise in regard the fun subject matter of them which would be a shame as the sometimes unorthodox situations and nods to pop culture are fun.
Anyhow all in all great fun glad I chanced upon a chance to read this.
I enjoyed this collection of writings...it's a real mix truth be told reviews,short stories,drawings and even a brain teaser...add to that some surprise extras and yes this isn't the average book.
The short stories in particular are well written and concise I could write more about them but I feel in doing so I would ruin the surprise in regard the fun subject matter of them which would be a shame as the sometimes unorthodox situations and nods to pop culture are fun.
Anyhow all in all great fun glad I chanced upon a chance to read this.
February 8, 2017
Reejecttiion 2 is a smorgasbord of cartoons, stories and letters. It is a collaboration between Daniel Clausen, Harry Whitewolf and Mr. Wolf. A lot of fun it is too.
Hilary Pitta and The Chamber of Baguettes made me chuckle, as did many of the imaginative stories. The stories flip subjects on their head.
Rejection is the life of a writer and Reejecttiion 2 may be the best cure for anybody that has just received what may seem to be their ten billionth.
Although Reejecttiion 2 is a bugger to search for through Google, it is a laugh and very silly.
Hilary Pitta and The Chamber of Baguettes made me chuckle, as did many of the imaginative stories. The stories flip subjects on their head.
Rejection is the life of a writer and Reejecttiion 2 may be the best cure for anybody that has just received what may seem to be their ten billionth.
Although Reejecttiion 2 is a bugger to search for through Google, it is a laugh and very silly.
July 7, 2016
The only thing I'd read by either of these authors prior to this compilation was Clausen's "The Ghosts of Nagasaki." I liked that book. Really, really liked it. It was both intelligent and thought-provoking, so I was hoping to find more of the same in this book, along with some satisfying satire and slightly naughty, non-PC humor.
That isn't exactly what I got; I got something quite different. It's kinda like someone invited me to dinner, and then put a bunch of Tupperware containers filled with an assortment of leftovers on the table, and told me to dig in. Not that I have anything against leftovers, mind you, and I'm not insinuating none of them were worth eating, but I was expecting a more cohesive meal, if you know what I mean. This book struck me as something these guys did on a "Let's-just-do-it" kinda lark. It's obvious they had fun with it, but it comes across as a tad self-indulgent, and the satire and humor were more along the lines of what I'd expect from a couple of pseudo-intellectual frat boys. Again, not that I have anything against frat boys; I'm merely saying their brand of humor isn't a good match with mine. As for the writing itself, it is quite good. Obviously, both of these writers have plenty of talent, but I don't think this particular format is the best way for them to showcase it. Then again, if they had fun with it, maybe that's all that matters.
For sure, this book is totally unlike anything I've read before. I'm sure many many people will love it. Unfortunately, I don't happen to be one of them. I'd give it two and a half stars, rounded up to three.
That isn't exactly what I got; I got something quite different. It's kinda like someone invited me to dinner, and then put a bunch of Tupperware containers filled with an assortment of leftovers on the table, and told me to dig in. Not that I have anything against leftovers, mind you, and I'm not insinuating none of them were worth eating, but I was expecting a more cohesive meal, if you know what I mean. This book struck me as something these guys did on a "Let's-just-do-it" kinda lark. It's obvious they had fun with it, but it comes across as a tad self-indulgent, and the satire and humor were more along the lines of what I'd expect from a couple of pseudo-intellectual frat boys. Again, not that I have anything against frat boys; I'm merely saying their brand of humor isn't a good match with mine. As for the writing itself, it is quite good. Obviously, both of these writers have plenty of talent, but I don't think this particular format is the best way for them to showcase it. Then again, if they had fun with it, maybe that's all that matters.
For sure, this book is totally unlike anything I've read before. I'm sure many many people will love it. Unfortunately, I don't happen to be one of them. I'd give it two and a half stars, rounded up to three.
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June 24, 2016Satire is hard to pull off and the exuberance in this type of improvisational satire more often comes off as juvenile self-regard. The narrative lacks cohesion and coherence (the pencil drawings may have actually helped with the cohesion) but most of the pieces felt like exercises in flash (and not-so-flash) fiction. Because I have an online connection with one of the authors I’m not going to rate this, but I did finish the whole thing.
We read and write for different reasons. I write to clarify and document my thought, and because I am sometimes pleasantly surprised by the way my language falls on the page. In terms of my personal narrative consumption, I feel that film is better than prose at developing concept and characterization, while arc TV is better at storyline. All that really leaves the written narrative is language. I read expository prose to understand, but I read narrative prose for language and variety (for concepts, characters, and storylines beyond that available from the cookie cutters of our narrowly-popular mass market).
We read and write for different reasons. I write to clarify and document my thought, and because I am sometimes pleasantly surprised by the way my language falls on the page. In terms of my personal narrative consumption, I feel that film is better than prose at developing concept and characterization, while arc TV is better at storyline. All that really leaves the written narrative is language. I read expository prose to understand, but I read narrative prose for language and variety (for concepts, characters, and storylines beyond that available from the cookie cutters of our narrowly-popular mass market).
May 1, 2016
On the wall above the copy machine at work is a picture of an inkblot butterfly...the kind you see at the psychiatrist's office. While copying one day, I found myself staring at it...wondering what it is that I actually see and if what I see means I have sociopathic tendencies, am normal, or, heaven forbid, an Indie kook! Before I knew it, I had stared at it for seven minutes. To put my diagnostic worries to rest, I decided to observe my coworkers while copying to see how long they stared at the inkblot or even noticed it at all.
After gathering my data and comparing it to each individual's personality trait, I came to the conclusion that if you stared at the inkblot for at least four minutes you're an Indie kook and you should check your inbox for recommendation to read this book...if you were not a part of my study, but feel you fit the criteria, this book can be purchased on amazon.
After gathering my data and comparing it to each individual's personality trait, I came to the conclusion that if you stared at the inkblot for at least four minutes you're an Indie kook and you should check your inbox for recommendation to read this book...if you were not a part of my study, but feel you fit the criteria, this book can be purchased on amazon.
April 2, 2016
This book certainly was different. Don't remember reading anything at all like it. This book took me awhile to read because I had to get used to the way it was written. It certainly is unusual, so if you read it get ready for a different trip.
J. Robert Ewbank author "John Wesley, Natual Man, and the Isms" "Wesley's Wars" "To Whom It May Concern" and "Tell Me About the United Methodist Church"
J. Robert Ewbank author "John Wesley, Natual Man, and the Isms" "Wesley's Wars" "To Whom It May Concern" and "Tell Me About the United Methodist Church"
August 1, 2016
Pure chaotic nonsense. Words spill in every direction and it's genius. A quick read and entertaining. Both Daniel Clausen and Harry Whitewolf paint vivid different realms surrounding dreads, magic if you want there to be and Likes among the many other strange occurrences assembled by crafted and altered ladders of words. Nuff said...enjoy!!!
July 13, 2016
Alright, my first reaction was: What kind of title is that? REEJECTTLLON? What?
What is ReejecttIIon? ReejecttIIon is that which is not fit for the mainstream that work of fiction that is outside standardized thought, cultural hegemony, the dominant ideology, or any other label that represents what others admire and which this book is not; it is also, ironically, outside the subversive language I just used to subvert the mainstream; it is indifferent to the critique of the mainstream because it is too cool for that critique; thus it is the critique of the critique of the mainstream. The critique of the critique of the critique of the mainstream is called ReejectIIIon.
What?
It would seem that these guys were just making sh#t up.
The whole book was satirical skit of rejection in the forms of letters, idea pitches, cartoons, and flash fiction.
Some of this stuff was kind of funny, but most of it was just plain weird and I didn’t get it.
Not that I have anything against dark/weird comedies. In fact, I would almost classify this book as MAD Libs for authors.
What is ReejecttIIon? ReejecttIIon is that which is not fit for the mainstream that work of fiction that is outside standardized thought, cultural hegemony, the dominant ideology, or any other label that represents what others admire and which this book is not; it is also, ironically, outside the subversive language I just used to subvert the mainstream; it is indifferent to the critique of the mainstream because it is too cool for that critique; thus it is the critique of the critique of the mainstream. The critique of the critique of the critique of the mainstream is called ReejectIIIon.
What?
It would seem that these guys were just making sh#t up.
The whole book was satirical skit of rejection in the forms of letters, idea pitches, cartoons, and flash fiction.
Some of this stuff was kind of funny, but most of it was just plain weird and I didn’t get it.
Not that I have anything against dark/weird comedies. In fact, I would almost classify this book as MAD Libs for authors.
April 18, 2016
This trans-Atlantic duo are pretty clever. Although I might've liked a bit more of a theme somehow connecting all the different short stories, satirical pieces and reviews together, I did enjoy the best bits of this collection. Quite a nice contrast in that Clausen mostly provided the poignant pieces, including a couple of really stellar short stories, while Whitewolf delivered some cracking humour. So in summary, I'd say it was patchy in a few places, but also contains some literary highlights that show what these authors can really do.
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