These books are more than musts. These books are reeking with musts. No. Start over. I mean, these books will cure the common cold. These books will polish your furniture. These books will prop up rickety dining room tables. These books will pop your zits, pull your gray hairs, feed your cats, and paint your house. These books, hurled into orbit, will be the first worthwhile thing to achieve escape velocity since the night I read the first copy of PLAYBOY I managed to steal from the creepy janitor in adolescence. These are uber-books. If Ozymandias had read these books he would still be in power today. These books have never killed a parrot, even when thrown. These books, ground into a fine paste and spread over toast,simulate guava jelly. Boo Radley read these books and look what became of him. These books complete you. These books have no connect the dots. These books have no periods. They just have exclamation points, some of which are missing their tails. These books need to be bought, preferably by the truckload, so they can be used to carpet-bomb countries that still venerate Jerry Lewis. Read these books. Dedicate your life toward honoring the life work of theman who spewed forth these books. Forget your name and become these books.

These are books to have, books to worship, books to devour and then to digest, ultimately books to subsume every fibre of your being, like the seed-pods that terrorized Kevin McCarthy.