Why We Gotta Love Chuck Palahniuk

My latest Kindle purchase is CP’s Pygmy.  From Chuck’s own website:

The Manchurian Candidate meets South Park—Chuck Palahniuk’s finest novel since the generation-defining Fight Club. [In the humble opinion of Chuck or his webmaster.]

“Begins here first account of operative me, agent number 67 on arrival Midwestern American airport greater _____ area. Flight _____. Date _____. Priority mission top success to complete. Code name: Operation Havoc.”

Thus speaks Pygmy, one of a handful of young adults from a totalitarian state sent to the United States, disguised as exchange students, to live with typical American families and blend in, all the while planning an unspecified act of massive terrorism. Palahniuk depicts Midwestern life through the eyes of this thoroughly indoctrinated little killer, who hates us with a passion, in this cunning double-edged satire of an American xenophobia that might, in fact, be completely justified. For Pygmy and his fellow operatives are cooking up something big, something truly awful, that will bring this big dumb country and its fat dumb inhabitants to their knees.

It’s a comedy. And a romance.

And all that I’ve read is in the broken English of the above.  Somewhat puzzling bits subsequently produced from me hysterical laffin’:

For offical record, American education facility devoted humiliation and destroy all self-respect out native youth.  Conspire to degrade all dignity.  Calibrated tasks assigned to destroy all self-esteem.

     For official example, purpose lesson titled “Junior Swing Choir” many potential brilliant youth compelled sing song depicting precipitate remain pummel head of operative me.  Complain how both feet too large size for sleeping mattress.  Idiot nonsense song.  Next sing how past visited arid landscape aboard equine of no title.  All student compelled, no option.


     All must sing nonsense or no allowed college, no advanced physics and training.  Forced compelled to sing how yearning for location on top arched spectrum of light wavelengths created by precipitate.  Exact song expressed Judy Garland, woeful martyr, slaughtered pawn of capitalist entertainment machine combined pharmaceutical complex.


     Worst wasted time, how idiot song occupy head of operative me.  Song involving how dangle in side-to-side motion from distant solar body, next convey illuminations of lunar body to domicile contained in glass vessel . . . idiot song drive all useful knowledge from head.  “Junior Swing Choir” a conspiracy oppress American youths, create them future slave workforce, singing million idiot song during labor of frying meat burgers.  Dunking fried potato of France deep in bin boiling fat.

The first and the last took me longer to figure out than I’m happy to admit, but once I gottem, each in turn, I cackled.


  1. Sam said

    I’m so glad you got the last one. I’m wracking my brain and I can’t figure out, “dangle in side-to-side motion from distant solar body, next convey illuminations of lunar body to domicile contained in glass vessel”

    I’d love a hint!


  2. Sam said

    Gads! Never mind. Guess I was almost a Mule…

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