“What the fuck did I get myself into?”

This is the thought that came up the most when I read this book. 

Look, I know who Marilyn Manson is. I’ve heard some of his music, I’ve read stories about what the fuck he gets into. I know he has beef with Justin Beiber about some t-shirts. 

I don’t know why I know that but I do. 

I know he was married to Dita Von Teese (who I adore.), dated Rose McGowan, and that he’s in general a pretty fucking weird guy. 

I didn’t realize how gross he was. 

This book was traumatizing in its brilliance, but also just gross because of gross things he did. He would scare me every other page with a startling pictures. Which I’m betting was the point. This guy is smart as hell and clever as a whip. And yes, for a while he was using his powers for evil and not good. But he took a long journey back to us (I’m sure he would resent that statement. Because who is “us”? The human race?)  and he’s finally becoming a human being. 

I think.

I don’t know.

This book was super messed up. His stories of his golden ages were really fucked up. As one would expect. 

And then he would hit you with a story of how it hurts that people would harm themselves or others in his name. And you’re like ‘You poor soul, let me hold you.”. 

Really think about it before you read this book. I didn’t . And I’m both worse and better for it.

It was intelligently thought out and executed in it’s contrasting unnerving you and making you love him at the same time.  

Constant vigilance.