Great Literature.

I was going to blog about the upcoming presidential elections, and actually had the post ready, but I decided to change gears, and post on something more socially relevant. I'd like to post today regarding one of the greatest works of western literature, a novel rife symbolism and existentialist imagery rarely seen in contemporary American prose. I'm speaking, of course, of "There's a Nightmare in my Closet" by Mercer Mayer. If you haven't yet read it, drop what you are doing and go buy it, read it, and after you have finished weeping, read it again and savor what true literary ecstasy can be. If you are doing CPR on someone, stop and go read. CPR is largely ineffective and if the person has read this book they can die happy, and if not, they don't deserve to live anyway.

The plot is insignificant, it is a standard journey of a youth on a voyage of self discovery. It's what he discovers that is key. It's that are fears are really the manifestations of our unrealized unconscious longings and therefore, we are the source of our own fears, and therefore, master of them. Truly deep stuff, not the kind of thing that can be truly absorbed in one reading. I'd like to thank my niece for turning me on to this brilliant though under appreciated work. This, together with the stunningly insightful "Goodnight Moon" just proves that my niece is on the cutting edge of modern literature. Pulitzer prize committee, you have fallen down on the job. Maybe if you took your snotty noses out of your "hundred years of solitude" and other such insignificant drivel you might actually see that there is real literature to be enjoyed. Hang your heads in shame.