Augusten Burroughs is an immature jerkface that I wouldn’t give the time of day but I realize that someday I will probably end up wiping his incontinent ass while doling out IV morphine to shut up his whiny face. I found nothing nothing charming about Magical Thinking and while I was reading it all I could think was that he represents the worst of my patients and the unshaven underarm of society – the type of person who finds everything wrong with the world and the slice of pie he has been delivered but fails to notice the good things like the fact that he is eating pie. Why am I so disgusted by him? This is the type of guy that steps on a child’s hand in a store and instead of comforting the child, he slips away unnoticed because the child has a delay in her cry response that gives him the opportune amount of time to flee the scene – and then he writes a story about it that makes him pays his bills. That is just one of the examples of the cynical “voices of the new century,” to quote the cover’s excerpt from USA Today, yeah, the USA Today. The only reason I finished Magical Thinking was that I needed something to occupy my time in the bathroom.