This is a story about bullshit. Comedian George Carlin once said when you’re born into this world, you’re given a ticket to the freak show. If you’re born in America, you get a front row seat.

Eddie Brandt sits in that seat, and we see the show through his eyes. It’s not a pretty picture. Eddie is born blessed, or cursed, with an internal bullshit meter; he encounters bullshit, the meter rings. The book follows him from childhood through old age, and the meter never stops ringing. Eddie’s story, like true life, does not flow smoothly. It’s episodic, a series of vignettes, tied together with the same unifying principle: Eddie dealing with bullshit. We see him dealing with it as a child, an adolescent, and an adult. It’s a story of a guy who doesn’t fit in.

As an old man in his sixties, he gets the final ironic touch: the government diagnoses him as having Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and awards him 100% disability. It’s simple: if you can’t fit in, ipso facto, you are severely disabled. No, not a pretty picture.

The saving grace is humor. Again, Carlin: “People who see life as anything more than pure entertainment are missing the point… It’s important if you don’t give a shit. It can help you a lot.” And the farm boy says to the city boy, “Don’t eat that, son, that’s bullshit.” That’s the message of this story and why people should read it: “Don’t eat that, son.”

About the Author

Allen Futsch is a Vietnam veteran, spent thirty-three years as a management consultant, and is comfortably retired. Although a work of fiction, most of this book derives from his experiences.