A Million Little Pizzas: The Book That Should Have Been
 
I got to go on I Don't Even Own a Television after trying to not read this book. I left it out in the rain at Philadelphia Folk Festival hoping it would disappear. It didn't. Whomever decided all books need to 450 pages should be dragged into the town square and pelted with tomatoes.

To paraphrase Dave Mustaine (which is the most ridiculous thing I have ever said), this book was like ripping my butthole hairs out very slowly.

However, I am the proud (?) owner of the first edition paperback and if you pledge my patreon I will rip out a piece of this horrible book, write three ways you're better than James Frey, and send it to you. 

My issues with this book are numerous, and I went into it with basically no opinion. I'm not really that he lied to Oprah, because memoir is a crapshoot for a lot of reasons. But my struggle is that you can lie to me and call it memoir but you should at least make it good. 

I do not recommend reading this book, although the first five pages moved at a nice clip. But unlike Milli Vanilli, the original content of James Frey's bullshit is worthless. 

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