Lately, I’ve been in a reading slump, with nothing appealing to me. And then I remembered that back when it came out, I grabbed Weston Ochse’s SEAL Team 666. Now, this is not my usual read, but everything about it called to me (including the bits of stuff Ochse had written for Criminal Element), so I had to have it. I took it out this afternoon on the train and found it was just what I needed to pull me out of my slump. Yes, there are the occasional somewhat dubious word choices, but they are easily balanced by the sheer wonder that is sentences like this one:
The image of a gang of demonic Stretch Armstrongs slinging themselves from the top rope of his imagination like whacked-out serial-killer midget professional wrestlers wrenched his vision back to his compatriots.
That, my friends, is pure poetry.