Camper English

Party Like a Rock Star (Even When You’re Poor as Dirt)

Forgive me for showing you the wizard behind the curtain, but all the world’s major decisions revolve around giving blowjobs. You wanna get in the new hot club? Blowjob.

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At least that’s how it would seem after reading Camper English’s Party Like a Rock Star (Even When You’re Poor as Dirt). His book inundates you with hierarchical lists to whom you could give head to save yourself $20 admission, among other things. Not literally, of course, but his lists suggest you gotta at least give good face — from sharing your weed to make friends, picking through thrift stores for a signature style, and throwing parties where friends provide the booze to avoid spending money on nightlife activities.

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English’s book is a collection of oddly sincere advice either too encompassing ­-- making you feel like a tourist in your own town — or too ridiculous — suggesting you sleep with tourists in your own town (to get free drinks for being the guide and avoid commitment).

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It’s not that some of this book’s information isn’t “useful,” it’s just horridly obvious and sass-free. I can identify with the echoes of the everyman experience, such as getting on clubs’ e-mail lists for notification of future discounts and Googling for shows with the word “free” attached. But if you don’t know “happy hour” means discounted drinks, then you probably also don’t know how to read. Seriously, someone who can’t figure out that getting a roommate will lower expenses and allow more disposable income to stock a bar with cheaper, “exotic” off-brands is already a waste of sperm. And stealing pills from your friend’s medicine cabinet, as English suggests you could do, may save you money, but it won’t change the fact that you’re a dick.

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What I want from this book is not to learn of entertainment available when I go out — I can do that by simple deductive reasoning — but entertainment when I stay in. I want there to be a 30-minute infomercial for this book. I want to come in at 3 a.m., drunk off free cocktails, and see dramatic re-creations of the “techniques” recommended in this book. That might add the missing snark to the genuine nuggets, or at least properly clown the overtly obviousness that bogs them down. But then again, my personal key to success is that it’s not who you fuck, but that you’re a tenacious fuck. It’s better to earn respect as someone valuable to the scene than follow advice that lands on the square-marked “trendy twat.” And earning respect takes longer than a legacy of blowjobs.

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Besides, this amateur hustle to get shit for free is too much hassle. First off, you’d need to wade through books like this, assuming your nickname is Captain Oblivious. Just remember, time also is money — you might want to save both.






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