On the other hand, there were the books worth reading. And I mean, really fucking worth it. Example one: Fahrenheit 451. That was a spectacular novel. Short, to the point, with a great story. Or Brave New World, which was astounding. Very imaginative and futuristic. A great piece of literature. Then of course, who could forget The Great Gatsby, a true, genuine love story depicting the greatest period of American living there ever was: the 1920's.
Sadly though, we were always stuck with the shitty ones too, and I did leave out some of the greats, but we all remember them. Now, while you skim this, or read it, or ignore it in general, I'm going to go do something more important than type. Like, donate to charity, or kill someone on the FBI's top 10 list. Hell, maybe I'll start a religion. I hear sex is fun, maybe I'll go buy some of that. And meth. So, until next week, this has been Doctor Strange; signing off.