If you are put off by profanity or sexual talk, don’t even think about picking up this book of essays. Penn simply cannot go for more than two pages (on average) without the f-word or a reference to his privates and/or a sex act.
But if you can set aside your visceral reactions to the tenor of this book, it has some very interesting reflections on fatherhood, marriage, reality TV, blackmail, professional partnerships, stage magic and religion. I’d rather have a hundred Penns in Congress, turning the Congressional Record into something delivered in a plain brown wrapper, than one more Ted Cruz or Michelle Bachmann.
I’d give this book four stars if it wasn’t for the relentless profanity. To which, I’m willing to bet Penn would say F-You with a smile.
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