Product Review: "The 2007 Report on Wood Poles, Piles, and Posts Not More Than 15 Feet in Length Owned and Treated with Pentachlorophenol or Other Chemicals by the Same Establishment: World Market Segmentation by City"
As an officially licenced and bonded FST (Fence, Scaffold, and Tenting) contractor, I can tell you that without a doubt, a man's success in the FST industry is almost wholly dependant on his understanding of wood poles, piles, and posts more than 15 feet in length owned and treated with pentachlorophenol by the same establishment. That's why I recommend This Book.
This alone would be enough to warrant the 800 dollar purchase, but the included segmentation of the entire wood poles, piles, and posts market by city (a feature which is not often included in similar Laughably Specific Global Strategic Planning Digests) makes this book a great buy for even the most casual of Pentachlorophenol-Treated Building Material enthusiasts.
But to be honest, there are quite a few issues with this book that I feel keep it from achieving "Must-Buy" status. Let's have a look at some of the more glaring problems, shall we?
Rejoice, mindless Coca-Cola enthusiasts, for your salvation has arrived. Because now, thanks to whomever the fuck Kurt Adler is, you may now purchase (for the low low price of 25 American Freedom Dollars) a set of plastic string lights in the shape of soft drink cans. These specially designed light sources are 100% guaranteed not clash with the Coca-Cola commemorative plates, framed Coca-Cola photographs, and dust-encrusted Coca-Cola Calendars which currently adorn the walls of your cluttered, cat-piss-smelling hovel.
With just a simple credit card transaction, these gaudy symbols of unabashed consumerism will be shipped directly to your front door, where they may then be torn from the box in a frenzy and slapped upon the walls as symbols of your pathetic brand loyalty to one of the world's largest and least interesting corporations!
So let's dive right in and take a look at the specific features which make these particular sources of artificial (yet godly) luminescence so very special.
Is the Q-Link Pendant some ingenious scam, or do magical mass-produced pendants with the ability to fight off diseases using invisible & unmeasurable fields actually exist? These are the sorts of questions I often find myself asking after receiving several blows to the head with an industrial-grade titanium girder. Of course I don't mean to suggest that only someone who has sustained severe damage to the frontal lobe would believe that a small chunk of plastic and metal could actually prevent or treat any disease--wait, actually maybe I do.
In any case, please have a look at the following review, in which I discuss the features of the Q-Link pendant in the most evenhanded, dignified, and unbiased way possible.
Whether they're being subjected to perfectly acceptable physical abuse for failing to have your dinner ready on time, conforming to misogynistic stereotypes about driving ability, or drowning their infant children in the bathtub due to severe postpartum depression and psychosis, women can be a real handful!
But luckily the geniuses at Taipei Novelty Product Production Assembly Line #124038 have come up with THIS KOOKY GAG REMOTE for all those "guys" out there who just want to "watch the big game with their buddies" without being forced to acknowledge the existence of the "perpetually exasperated vagina-possessing nursemaid" to whom they have allowed themselves to become emotionally attached.
I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say that this box of organically protected Trichogramma parasite larvae is a must buy for those whose plans for world domination hinge on the cultivation and subsequent release of thousands of tiny Hymenopteran insects.
The old "don't judge a book by its cover" adage has never made much sense to me. You can tell a lot about a book like this one by looking at the cover. I mean, any idiot could see that it's a field guide for picking wild mushrooms which was written by an impishly deranged trombone enthusiast named David who enjoys feigning the thievery of large quantities of fungi while wearing a cheap 70s tuxedo.