Review: Rod Nimzowitsch’s Autobiography 

Review written by Seth Nimzowitsch 

First off, I’d like to thank the blog for having me. I have a lot of strong opinions regarding my twin brother’s autobiography that I’ve been trying to work out. They’ve only been growing stronger. A site like this, a scalding dumpster fire of a blog, is just the type of place willing to publish my rather extreme views (think an apolitical Breitbart, or the digital equivalent of someone who can’t open a bag of cheez itz). They are kind of like that jerk who claps at the end of a movie as if the director is secretly in the audience and will stand up to bow directly to him. Speaking of jerks, let’s circle back to my square of a brother, and his book. 

The opening line of his memoir is:

“I was born outside Des Moines, in a small hospital layered with the dusty breeze of autumn leaves”. 

Like a well struck baseball, right off the bat,  I was peeved. I was born a few minutes before him, in the backseat of my parent’s tandem bicycle. They were pedaling to the hospital due to their fear of cars and auto erotic asphyxiation. What my brother seems to forget is that he is the younger, and therefore, more susceptible to whooping cough, brother. You won’t hear about his embarrassing whooping in these opening chapters. 

The mid section of the book, just like Rod’s own mist section, was swollen, poorly written,  jaundiced, and just asking to be punched. Here’s what he left out:

  • His embarrassing confusion about the bass player of Phish. 
  • His inconvenient arousal during limbo at the family BBQ 
  • My contributions to the development of Twister 2.0 (it’s like normal twister but doesn’t deny the holocaust. I’m not saying the original twister does, but this version definitely doesn’t)
  • My acclaimed one man dramas were like the path of a happy child (entirely skipped). There was my one man show of 300, Waiting for Waiting for Godot, and my semenal drama set in Pixar’s Cars universe, The Tragedy of Miss Carriage. 
  • His murder-suicide

The ending of the book mentions Tod’s famous block party, which I was not invited too. I’m a massive Lego guy, figuratively,  and this snub was as inexplicable as the chaotic orgy at the end of Bionicles 3-D (to their credit it really looked they were coming right at you). 

This party was infamous, as most of you likely know, as being the staging ground for 9/11. In reference to the 9/11 statement, I have been instructed by my lawyer to say, jk. 

To suffice, I hate you, Rod, the way a needle hates a haystack. That amount of hate is hard to find, just like a needle in a haystack. I made sure the dirt they buried you in had GMOs, and was not approved by the requisite boards, and I don’t mean your coffin boards. Now you’re dead and a criminal. Got em. 

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