Five Books We Should Burn Instead of the Qur’an

by Ryan Macdonald

By now we’ve all heard about the wacky pastor from Florida and his Qur’an-burning parties. Seriously, does anything good come out of Florida anymore? Citrus. That is all.

I’d like to point out two things if I may. The first is that the opponents of this brilliantly intricate plan (among them our President) are saying we can’t do this because it would offend Muslims who had nothing to do with 9/11. They also say the retaliation from Muslims will be immediate, against Americans and US personnel who had nothing to do with the book burning. Is anyone else getting tired of how fucking stupid everyone else is?

The second point is that book burnings are almost a tradition in Western culture. The church denounces a scientific theory, and Origin of the Species goes up in flames. Someone says a naughty word, and copies of Catcher in the Rye are sold with a complimentary match. Someone is angry at the church, and…

Sorry, Pastor Jones. You don’t fucking burn bibles. Anyone’s bible.

But in the spirit of peaceful resolution and enlightenment, I wish to propose a compromise. Instead of attacking classic literature, amazing prose, and the entire belief system of a people, let’s start making lists of books everyone can enjoy burning. Ok, here’s mine.

If I Did it by O.J. Simpson
I don’t care if you did it or not, what kind of idiotic stupid writes a book called “If I Did It” after they are aquitted of two counts of MURDER? He might as well have called it, “Gotcha Suckas!” Who lets these things happen? Where’s the gas can?

T.O. by Terrell Owens
Ok, so you may have been an awesome wide receiver at one point in your career. But you seem to have forgotten rule numero uno in the game: There’s no fucking crying in football. Bo Jackson got broken in half. Bill Romanowski is immortal because he steals dudes’ souls by falling on them. And you’re pouting about your mental and emotional problems? I can’t wait for the follow up co-written by Vince Young: Stop Calling Us Names, or We’ll Tell Roger Goodell. BURN.

The Road by Cormac McCarthy
I’m not joking. For all the hype surrounding this book and the lukewarm film adaptation, it’s SO FREAKING BORING. They walk, they look at things, they have awkwardly worded conversations, they walk some more. “The man stepped in ash, and noticed the city was covered in ash, and there was ash on his son’s head, ash ash ash.” You want ash? I’ll show you ash, you boring bastard.

The Entire Twilight Series by Stephanie Meyer
If John Connor knew the kind of bullshit these books would rain down on us, he’d have told Michael Biehn, “fuck the Terminator wars, you go back and punch Stephanie Meyer square in the mouth.” These go on the pile, and never again do I see grown-ass soccer moms falling over each other for teenagers, or high-schoolers wearing tails and fangs.

The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho
Ok, so I have nothing wrong with this book. I’m sure it’s a fine read. But at this point, asking me why I haven’t read it is like asking Jim Gaffigan why he doesn’t eat mayonnaise. I don’t want to read it. I have zero desire, I will probably never read it, now leave me alone, or so help me this blow torch will do the Lord’s work.

posted on Thursday, September 9th, 2010 by greatwhitegypsy in current events, high fidelity


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