Thrift store book reports: Meth = Sorcery

This post is meant to be funny, but addiction isn’t. If you or a loved one is struggling with drug addiction, please call the Narconon helpline at 1-800-775-8750. Experienced drug counselors are available 24 hours a day.

If you know me at all, you know that I love the thrift store like Joanie loves Chachi. The book section? Even if a book is so terrible that you wonder if a publisher was somehow blackmailed or held hostage into putting it out, you just can’t beat 10 books for a buck. Mostly. Usually. Not this time.


Meth = Sorcery has just risen to the top spot in my list of worst books I’ve ever read. In fact, it is so bad that it takes all the spots on the list. That’s right, one book, ten spots. It is just that bad.


My luxurious fancy cat likes it as a pillow. I must grudgingly give one quarter of a star.

The…hmmm, plot? Thesis? Point? I’m not sure what to call it… of Meth = Sorcery is, in fact, that methamphetamine is made by sorcerors of Satan. We’re not talking figuratively, folks. The whole idea is completely literal. Apparently, Satan comes up from hell and sticks demons in your body like Britney Spears stuck cheetos in her mouth during the dark Federline era. These demons give the meth user and manufacturer special powers of alchemy-full methal alchemists!- because it’s the end times and meth is mentioned in Revelations or something.



By this definition, baking bread is also considered part of the dark arts. I am now the Sauron of Sourdough.

Okay, are you still following? Good! So then, once there is a belly full of demons and not even enough room for a wafer thin mint, the user is capable of projecting images of themselves through time and space and other forms of witchcraft and spellcasting. There was also something about dog food and trucks and hallucinating 20 ft tall pigs, which im not sure is what happens on meth being that it is generally known as a stimulant and not as a hallucinogen, but as a meth-virgin, I really don’t know.

Good news though. If you get a religious official to hold you down, you can literally barf up these demons. Literally.


There was no word on if laxatives would work as well as vomiting or how puked demons are on tooth enamel.

Then, scripture, because obviously.

Then, the end.

I really have no idea what to say about this. I’d like to say the you shouldn’t write a book until you know the difference between your and you’re. I’d like to say that capitalization counts. I’d like to say that starting stories in the middle of other stories is bad. I’d like to say that science should be your friend, especially when you’re trying to use it to prove a point. I’d also like to say that alchemy isn’t science. I’d like to point out that meth seems to cause massive brain damage, and this writing might well be evidence.

I can’t say any of that and be really sure of myself though. I read the book twice now, and still have no idea what in the meth-lovin’ hell I just read. Maybe the real alchemy here is turning this 155 page jumble of puked demons and dog food and words into something understandable.

I will be giving this book away to one lucky (?!?) reader on 25 January. Like, comment and share ninevoltcandy’s giveaway announcement on Facebook for your chance to win.

And thats when my daughter learned more than French vocabulary

I am a big fan of shopping at the local thrift stores. Not only is it environmentally friendly and cheap, there are often some really unique finds when you take the time to really look at items. Ahem. Remember I said that last bit, okay?

Take, for example, this set of six mugs, at a whopping 50 cents a piece:

The thrifty mug set.

So cute, right? They are all animal themed and have French vocabulary on them, which makes hot chocolate not only delicious, but educational.

I must admit, I was completely charmed. How could I resist having whales be all happy and whaley? I couldn’t. No one can.

Baleines gonna baleine.

The whole set was like that, and believe it or not, there wasn’t a single chip or crack in the entire set. I rushed my new treasures home, all proud of myself. I got to replace some boring and chipped mugs with awesome new ones,  and the kids would learn a bit of French.  Everyone wins.

My 11 year old daughter was particularly thrilled, being the animal lover that she is.  Her favorite animal in the whole world is a rabbit, so I gave her the ‘le lapin’ mug as a special mug just for her, and settled in to wait for my prize as world’s best, most thoughtful, and most observant mom.

About a week later, I was washing the dishes, and finally took a moment to really look at the mugs. So adorable, so adorable, so adora—oh dear God.  My daughter’s mug was not what it seemed.

A special mug, given to my daughter, but more appropriate for Ron Jeremy, perhaps.

It would seem that in squealing over the fact that there was a huge cute blue bunny in the foreground, and shrieking with joy over the fact that it was not chipped or cracked, I seem to have completely missed seeing that there is a full blown rabbit orgy happening the background.

Ah well, it’s okay. The mug has been educational in more ways than one, and honestly, the hot chocolate from it still tastes delish. I guess everyone still won after all, but that “Best, Most Thoughtful, Most Observant Mom Ever” trophy? I’m pretty sure the space I made for it on the shelf will accumulate nothing but dust for a really long time. C’est la vie, folks.