Very few critics are brave enough to scrutinize romance self-help books. One big reason for this is eunuchism. I'll demonstrate: Concentrate on your lap when you read this tip from 10,000 Ways to Say I Love You: "2206. Give her socks that picture her favorite flowers." Did you notice that as you read it, the area around your genitals began secreting genital solvent? That's because your brain was sending signals that you wouldn't need them anymore.
But not everything about these books is peaceful and smooth genital mounds. In this very article, I uncover multiple scandals that will blow the fucking lid off the romance book industry and your mind. Normally I'm only known for my impossible wit and classically handsome bone structure, but this week I'm playing the part of the investigative reporter. And I'm playing it so well that every character Jean-Claude Van Damme has ever played wants to bone me. Including Cyborg.
1999, By Gregory J.P. Godek
While the rest of us were courting one another, Gregory J.P. Godek wrote several books on the subject. Gregory J.P. Godek knows less about romance than date rape. He specializes in list-style books because it's faster to let his brain vomit directly onto his keyboard than it is to put together paragraphs. If you've groped someone on a train you know more about women than Gregory J.P. Godek.
That's the kind of advice you only give if you've never, ever met someone with a different religion than yours.
My dentist forges these coupons while I'm drugged. Seriously, though: a free sex fantasy coupon? With a legal disclaimer and a mention of underage children? Why don't you just back a cement truck up to your wife and seal her holes forever? If... IF she even accepts this coupon, the worst thing that could happen is that she actually uses it. I mean think about it-- you don't have any black friends! Where are you going to find one to fuck your wife?
Wait, what? I can't even imagine the logistics of this. Do you surprise her with, "Sweetheart, I know you haven't seen me since I drained our bank accounts six year ago, but during that time I've been traveling the country to find you the perfect gift. I give you... THOR! EVERY! THOR!" I guess for this one, you just pray your girlfriend likes Punisher 2099.
What the hell does that mean? Is that Presbyterian for "stare at her tits?"
A pizza coupon!? What, are you dating your son's little league team? I'm starting to see why all your dating advice is insane. Your woman thinks it's a special occasion when she gets to pick out the pizza. She must think it's a second honeymoon if you wake her up before you start sex.
Gregory J.P. Godek keeps his wife locked so deep in the basement that a new mop is the only way she knows it's her birthday.
You used one Bible verse to fill 13 numbers? Look, Godek, you're the one who decided to write a book called ten thousand ways to say I love you. If you could only think of 300, you should have changed the title instead of filling it with garbage. You lazy lying fuck, you type romantic advice like you're playing Farmville. And speaking of farmers, if they were as bad at their job as you are at yours, they'd be bit torrenting Dexter while your wife waited to get milked.
Seems only fair since she gave you hepatitis from the same guy.
Stop, you're spoiling her, Godek. Wait, this is the second time you've offered "let her pick out the pizza" as romantic advice. I want to know what a non-romantic day is for your wife. Does she watch you play Civilization 5 and sheepishly agree that a Veggie Lover's sounds fine?
This is less for romance and more for politeness. Godek and his wife seep so much pizza grease while they sleep that it's cheaper for his relatives to replace a smaller mattress. So I guess he's not a total monster.
Why antique? Did they make them big enough for your wife's panties back then?
Godek, I'm reading your book. I've seen the way you and your wife romance each other. You fat fucks have so many pizzas in your home that you haven't seen a "last slice" since you were breeding cats.
I honestly can't tell which is more unreasonable: that he thinks I have actual mind powers or that he thinks this bullshit is cute. Let's explore both options. If this is Godek's idea of comedy, then I'll come right out and say it: his sense of humor has AIDS. If he's being serious, and I really have ESP, why would I waste my fantastic gifts sending loving thoughts to my lover when a simple pizza could do the same thing?
Oh shit, that's a "way to say I love you?" I guess that explains why my roommate called his mom and cried, "IT'S FINALLY HAPPENED FOR ME!" while I was ordering Chinese food.
Fine, but it's really hard for me to order a pizza while I'm using both hands to hold this condom on.
I guess I know what you call it when you're porking your fat wife now. Thanks, Godek.
Godek ruins romance faster than accidentally screaming "mom." I've seen better writing on a septic tank's warranty. Godek, you would need a ghost writer to help make a grocery list. When you tell people you're an author, that's like Hani Hanjour telling people he's a pilot. If you gave this book to a monkey, it would stop masturbating.
You're a fucking maniac. No really, all jokes aside, what the fuck is wrong with you, Godek? It would be easier to explain a briefcase full of human fingers than it would to explain a briefcase full of Milk Duds. Who sees a briefcase full of candy and thinks that has anything to do with love? I'll tell you who: fat people and children. Busted, Godek.
This not only says "I love you," it's also a clever way to find out if your partner thinks "choking" and "diarrhea" are sexy words.
Are you kidding me, Godek!? The same god damn pizza coupon in the same god damn romance book!? Do you give out so many of these romantic pizza party coupons that you can't remember which ones you gave your wife!? I not only just caught you having an affair, I caught your editor's opinion of your work. Even your own editor didn't bother to read this testicular cancer you call a book. You are such a useless fucker, Godek. You couldn't write a stop sign.
I think she might have left it at Little Caesars, buddy.
2001, by Gregory J.P. Godek
It's a Godek rock block! This masterpiece came out in 2001, and he copy-and-pasted it together so quickly after 9/11 that his pee on the graves of the victims wasn't even cold by the time it hit the clearance rack. This is a pandering, exploitative list of Pavlovian words written by a sex-starved dipshit and passed off as a book. The first pull quote on the back cover is from a completely random NYC firefighter who Google says either doesn't exist or has no documented experience as a literary critic. I haven't seen such a despicable attempt at cashing in on a tragedy since I sold triple-priced body lice shampoo at Comic-Con.
And then floating it back to Cuba! U!S!A!!! U!S!A!!!
Knowing the Great Lake names will be handy for when the CDC is asking you where you might have come into contact with untreated sewage. The Great Lakes are 5% water, 35% Taco Bell wrappers, and 60% Cleveland missing persons. There is more feces in a cup of Great Lakes water than in five cups of feces.
Okay, you've got me picturing a bunch of lesbians at a western-themed party. What am I supposed to do with that? Oh wait, I get it. Nice.
Hey, deep thinker, if I own a book called 1001 Ways to Celebrate America, I sure as Hell don't own a book called The Koran.
I'm assuming he means other people's books. You lose an I.Q. point every 100 tips you read in a Gregory J.P. Godek book. If Godek wrote Moby Dick it would start with "Remember Sea Monkeys?" and end at the question mark in "Remember Sea Monkeys?" If he wrote The Koran, it would be called 10,000 Ways to Tell Your Wife She's Fat. #3279: Put her weight on an aerial banner and then land the plane on her. #5692: Surprise her by arranging hearts in the shape of a pig on her bed. #8992: Hire a lawyer to get you out of your sex coupon obligations.
Oh, Godek. You outdo yourself on every chromosome that ends in "21!"
Hey, your wife must be losing weight if you thought of two words that start with "v" before you needed to type Viagra.
Don't fight it, lady! Hugging strangers is the 853rd way to celebrate America! 854 through 921 are all sex coupons, but I'll wait for you to stop screaming before I get into those.
Godek, you are so bad at celebrating America that I think we just fell behind Moldova in the celebrations race. If you keep writing books like this, the Canadian immigration board will start sending spies down to torch our book stores.
1991, by Vicki Lansky
I've reviewed some of Vicki's work before, and if I recall, it was like reading a textbook for Saccharine as a Second Language. She gives the perfect advice if you're trying to get to first base at a scrapbooking meeting or trying to talk a colonial doll into giving it up willingly.
I guess that is a quicker way to tell her I'm gay than growing a mustache.
Luckily, there are two O's in "homo" for when she writes her response. HÃ¢â¢Â¥ld Ã¢â¢Â¥n a secÃ¢â¢Â¥nd. SÃ¢â¢Â¥mething abÃ¢â¢Â¥ut this advice feels... familiar.
I might as well give her a fake erection too, because this real one won't be-- wait a second. I know I've read this advice before! Vicki Lansky, you unindustrious bitch! That was #49 in 101 Ways To Tell Your Sweetheart "I Love You"! And that last one about dotting your i's like a five-year-old used to be #50! You just moved the numbers around and called it a new book! Did you think I wouldn't notice!? Medical cadavers try harder at their jobs than you! No wonder your lazy ass married the first guy who punched you like your father did!
Romance self-help authors hate hard work so much that they get food delivered right to their the toilets so they don't have to chew. How much trouble would it have been for this dingbat to write 101 more pieces of dingbat advice? Were there no more objects in her eyeline that could get arranged into a heart shape? Was her typewriter too far away from the bottom of a pouch of tuna? Vicki is so bad at forming new ideas that her eyes bleed if she picks up two Legos. It's been so long since she had an original thought that she named her son Write Love Notes Using A Heart Where The Letter O Goes. And speaking of her son, Vicki is so lazy that when she changed her son's first diaper, it was because he asked her to.
Did you think there would be no consequences when you tricked me into buying this terrible book twice!? I am coming to destroy you, Vicki Lansky!!!
Most rich kids just want to be pop stars.
How did these hyper-specific tropes spread so quickly?
The Hollywood rumor mill has been playing games with celebrity deaths for at least a century.
It's easy to work the system and win these awards even if you don't deserve them.