Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Clark Gable: Tormented Star by David Bret

Reading David Bret’s homosexual fantasy about Clark Gable is equivalent to listening to a dance hall girl sing a bawdy tune out of key. She bellows like a donkey giving birth whilst suffering her death throes, but the entire spectacle is too unseemly for any civilized person to tolerate, and ultimately the only solution is to drag the fat and blemished queen from the stage, stick a gag in her mouth, and kick her out of town.

But let’s examine the facts: The ability to construct a readable sentence does not necessarily qualify the author as a professional writer. David Bret has published many books, and this fantasy about Clark Gable proves that he is not a writer. He is certainly also not much of a researcher. The facts? There are no discernible facts in Clark Gable: Tormented Star. However, Bret does manage to spell Clark Gable’s name correctly. This is a small victory for a hack well known for his misspellings, falsified chronology, undocumented quotes and preference for gossip and fantasy. This is not a scholarly work. Its audience will be well deserved; i.e.; those readers at the lower rung of the evolutionary scale who thrive on sexual perversion and smarmy innuendo.

David Bret has made a career writing ugly books about beautiful people. Perhaps he’s fascinated by them because they represent something that he’ll never become – creative and exciting and beautiful. Keep in mind that I am not opposed to homosexuality – to each his own – but I am opposed to re-writing history in order to justify a lifestyle preference. In any event, there are no laws preventing Bret from publishing his gay fantasy about a dead actor and passing it off on an unsuspecting public as “fact.” He has the right to make money from such profitable ventures. What he has forgotten is this: frauds are always unmasked, and the society that allows him his malicious career will also hold him accountable for his lies. David Bret is welcome to his dirty money and his dirty little career. He’s earned every penny. And I am holding him publicly accountable for creating malicious lies and pawning them off to an unsuspecting public. David Bret has performed a lobotomy on research techniques and left its brain-damaged husk behind for someone else to clean up. This book reads like something created by a juvenile fantasizing about his hero, but if only his hero were a homosexual. The end result leaves me feeling that I have encountered a con-man in a zoot suit, and after breezing into my room, he slips out into the darkness with my last dollar in his sweaty little palm. I want my money back.

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