“Lost at Sea” (the Jon Ronson mysteries) by Jon Ronson (or just another madcap in the wall)

      lost at sea It seems that the story of all of us is a tad more disquieting than we thought. In fact, in my own methodology of Inductive reasoning (which by the way always works for me) seems to be rather well proven not to be for the mentally squeamish battling for border control of the mind in fanciful dress. The lack of inane rambling almost makes this wacko logic something to fear. This time sensitive material now apparently holds the key to a portal of maddening domestics entangled in a life balancing on the edge of a spiral staircase juggling vials of nitroglycerin. Then again we could always shout verses from “The Mikado” from the rooftops, bellowing about “the Lord high executioner” whilst trampling on a flower. These have all become valid points of reference when you embark on the literary challenge of placing a Jon Ronson book into your hands. It’s amazing what we as a people will accept wholeheartedly as truth. Amateur hour has never been so good and so real at the same time. Aliens have ministered knowledge of incredulous proportions to the human race, preprogrammed robots wandering about with the intent purpose of infiltration, mass murder nearing the fringe of everything, and musical bands with no point suddenly arrive at the pantheon. The modern world has offered itself as the new world culture imposing its disturbed rationale as the alpha and omega. Read this book a loud, and in a different language if you can…it certainly won’t quell the insanity, but then again…chaos never does.

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