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Close, but no falafels, February 22, 2006
Reviewer: Gen. JC Christian, patriot (Tremonton, UT United States) - See all my reviews
I studied under one of the professors profiled in this book. It was during the eighties. He was truly an evil man, always running down President Reagan's support of the Salvadoran death squads. He gave me an F on a paper I almost finished. He also laughed when I said that Daniel Ortega was possessed by Satan.

It got worse after that. He started to look at me in a strange way. I couldn't break his gaze no matter how much I tried. I now realized that he was using his special powers to turn me into a communist.

I eventfully grew out my hair, bought a beret and fatigues, and told everyone to call me Che. That confused a lot of my friends. They couldn't understand why Che would accessorize his uniform with a bright red feather boa. I tried to explain that red was the color of revolution, but they just couldn't get it.

They finally abandoned me when they caught me painting the Alpha Gamma Rho goat red while whistling the Internationale and wearing a crimson bra and panties. They really hated Stanford.

Anyway, Mr. Horowitz failed to mention the mind control this professor exercised over students like me. That's the most important part of the story. I can't give the book more than one star.

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