e

Maybe I could begin with what this is not. It's not the first volume in a Septology about the history of potato farming in souther Idaho. It's not an attempt to classify the mating habits of invertebrates into a system of nested groups, like those Russian dolls fit together . It's not a novel-length complaint about celebrity culture. Sorry.

It may, if anything, be classified as an exercise in applied ignorance. I have a lot of that. What can I promise? Fear. Strong smells. Bizarre digressions. Bad haircuts. Orange cola. Broken elbows. Mushrooms. No heroes. No anti-heroes.