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President George W. Bush trades his daughter for some magic beans that will makes his poll numbers grow.
A whole box of Sharpies is a sign of optimism
While we’re on the subject (Jenna, not NotJenna) I’m a little late to the party on this, but I never got around to the reviews of Jenna Bush: First Daughter Authoress.
The book has a spare, verging-on-hardboiled prose style (“ ‘How did your parents die?’ Ana asked. ‘They were sick,” Berto said. ‘Mine, too.’ ”), and suggests that Jenna may yet have a future following Margaret Truman and Susan Ford into the mystery-novel genre. She has a weakness for dubious ethnic analogies: “His eyes were wild, like those of the pumas that lived in the jungles,” and “A nurse wrapped Beatriz in a blanket—like a burrito.” Still, as Nils Kastberg, UNICEF’s regional director for Latin America and the Caribbean, and Jenna’s old boss, said, “It’s a million times better than the many memorandums that we write.”
If you saved the hundreds of rejection letters that you received for that coming of age novel that you spent eight long years writing, but to no avail … you may now kill yourself.
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I just hope that she gets her father to narrate the audio book. Imagine the line “His eyes were wild, like those of the pumas that lived in the jungles,” read by Dubya.
Can you imagine being the editor for those sessions? Having to keep cutting out “heh heh heh”, and “my daughter wrote that, y’know.”
Meanwhile, English teachers across the country now have to explain to students “yes, you still have to learn this stuff, because, unless your daddy becomes President, you’d never get crap like this published.” Except, without saying “crap”, of course.
Jenna came to town to flog her manifesto on the angst of being wealthy and unemployable in 3rd world country. The Rules were sent out via email: Top Secret. No talking to Jenna. No personalization of books. Do not look her in the eye (what, is this a movie set?). Above all, no media must know. Well, the last one makes sense, a book critic might have gotten a hold of the book and savaged poor Jenna’s literary masterpiece.
Ms Beasley would have cried.
Okay, this is the *second* book I send to my mother the next time she thinks I should write professionally. “Again, this is what happens when people get published ’cause their parents think they ‘have a book deep inside’.”
Exhibit A, of course, is Jonah’s compost pile.
Didn’t we get that rule out of Bush early on, too? It just brings up all sorts of fascinating possibilities. Maybe Jenna’s inherited the family mental illness. Or, maybe they really do think they’re a monarchy. Or, I suppose, they’re tigers planning to eat you and knowing you can see them means they have to break off the attack. Or else they’re convinced if they can’t see you, you can’t see them.
Regardless, creepy and unAmerican.
Good thing she clarified, because when I think of pumas, I usually think of the kind that live in three-flats in Chicago.
“…like a burrito?!?” Wow, now I feel free to write something like, “At the slightest pressure, Pablo folded, like a taco…”
“Some kids live in places where poverty or violence or natural disasters make it difficult to even get the basics.”
We used to call two of those places by their proper names — New Orleans and Baghdad.
Now we refer to them as “hell” and “hell so fuckin’ bad that hell doesn’t want its name associated with just how motherfucking bad it is.”
Yes people, there are places where poor people suffer. Now if Jenna ever got around to writing a book about her dumbass dad makes it much easier for people to suffer, we’d have something.
‘how’
How about ‘when she danced she sizzled, like a fajita’??
or … how about when you read the book “your eyes burn as if someone was squeezing the juice from a thousand jalapenos directly onto your corneas.”?
“the prose flat out sucked, like the kind of sucking you get with an industrial vacuum, the kind they use in body shops…” I love this book, already. And to all those friends of mine who have tried in vain to get really good shit published over the years: sucks to be you, huh?
It’s no different than the father-daughter dynasties of the music industry, really. So, similarly, sorry to all of you who tried to get your band’s stuff promoted as you watched Hannah Montana’s crap skyrocket…
Agents and publishers (pick the corresponding entities for the music industry) are equivalent to HMOs in the healthcase system. Cut out the middleman: let the Web rise up, and let’s hear it for making podcasts and printing-on-demand easy and omnipresent.
Did Georgie ever escort Jenna to a Purity Ball?
Or, just show her to make the world’s greatest high-ball?
(not even gonna touch the 8-ball)
If you look at the picture, you can see why. Unlike the eyes of the pumas that live in the jungles, the eyes of the Jenna that lives in the White House look like there ain’t nobody home behind them. If I were one of her publisher’s lackeys, I wouldn’t want people looking through those empty holes either.
Yep Jenna, yer folks ARE some sick puppies.
If she wants no eye contact, that’s her look-out (so to speak).
Unless the person is a gun-wielding crazy, they’re not going to direct where I can and cannot look. Who puts up with that crap?
How on earth is Jenna even flogging her book if there’s no media coverage allowed? It’s not even like she can personally push the thing, since no one is allowed to make eye contact. Are they hoping that people will sense a disturbance in the Force or something?
“Her writing was vapid, like the Class-5 vapids below Niagara Falls. And so inane that it should have been confined in an inane asylum.”