The Pussy Grabber tackles the youngest demographic that can’t vote to Make Books Great Again but fails miserably
Holidays in a time of tariffs tends to bring out the worst in politician voter relationships. Pussy Grabber In Chief is no exception, as this holiday shopping season has brought out his latest gimmick into swaying pre-adolescent younger voters under the premise of reaching a demographic that uses incoherent slang like 67. As such the quest for critical thinkless minds continues to be the cornerstone of modern American politics, encouraged from the highest offices of the land for cool points and ratings.
Fresh off a book tour of empty seats for story time comes the seminal but independent new release from the Pussy Grabber called Quiet Piggy. The three stanza non-fiction children’s book that earned Dr. Seuss the right to clip Richard Nixon’s wings in hell is a Canadian published limited release ball of shit. Not even America’s PenguinRandomSchuster were crazy enough to publish this drivel or any agent in the world would dare shop it. Gawd bless Canada, despite hostile relationships and their weird ass hate speech laws, turned off the censorship and gave the green light to this book who makes Trudeau’s autobiography look like Faulkner.
At first glance Quiet Piggy is a summation of pisstivity storytelling and shit AI artwork with a dash of Adderall inspired dyslexia that makes 2 year old’s temper tantrums seem adult. On the surface though, it’s a toddler’s diary into cognitive decline of baby talk and jumbled thoughts without a break to suck a thumb. In “a book about the lying liars who write about me”, Quiet Piggy is not an expectant love letter to beloved swine like Miss Piggy but a cultural slang reappropriate animal epithet of verbal abuse teaching kids to call people the lowest of names to get their way when their speech skills streak like shit stains in their pull ups.
The metaphorical title featuring a kid friendly word salad is not even as entertaining as Horton hearing a who or the cat taking a shit in his hat. So, let’s break down this drivel and see even more American standards circle the toilet bowl in what is age appropriate in a time of tariffs. Warning: this book is designed for predominately white audiences and age groups privileged enough to visit the White House for school trip based patriotic story time, because, DEI bad. After all, we can’t have minorities and women going to school as is, and this story is so fucking bad it’s enough to discourage learning in America for fifty years.
When we jump into the story the Pussy Grabber’s being bombarded with reporters who are driving him up a wall being efficient at their journalism. Frustrated at their job competency from asking questions, in particularly the Epstein files, he lambasts their presences by associating them with barnyard swine through animal epithets. Such fraught attempts to be metaphorically insulting with vague references to Animal Farm by George Orwell proves disastrous, and proves that the author not only did not read the novel but skimmed the Cliff Notes, which blatantly is his emergency toilet paper how the analogies were presented.
From the barnyard we get into beauty shops and hip hop in a weird juxtaposition that doesn’t compliment one another. Being pissed about accusations of fake hair does not warrant reporters being called pigs. Pussy Grabber needs to go ask Black women who weave how they handle that, because they will say, hell yeah, it’s their hair, they bought it and got the receipt to prove it! Of course, that would be DEI, so he’s not going to ask yet somehow, some way, defending one’s hair rug sipping a Diet Coke brings racial contemplation on how Puffy Combs can allegedly be pardoned from jail. Pause. What kid in 2025 that was born after 2017 even knows who Puffy is? If that was to show racial solidarity that went over like a Al Jolsen winning a Grammy for Mammy.
The cultural gap in America keeps widening.
The ending is supposed to be a loss, since Pussy Grabber wins at losing. First off, the plot got lost. Random ramblings of putting reporters into crates, which I will assume are coffins because we know he likes launching projectiles out of planes, is doing nothing but indoctrinating kids to enjoy being buried alive. That transitions into Manifest Destiny plans of Canada becoming America’s 51st state by force. Kids are definitely going to love playing a new and improved Call Of Duty DLC where you call Canadians pigs and take Alberta (so he says in the Audiobook) looking for janky book deals.
Where does this leave us? Well, in combination word platters alternating piggy and quiet as if little kids just repeat the same two words all the time. Kids want a happy ending, not a cliffhanger before social media rots their attention span.
That’s it, that’s all.
Yep, this fucking shit sucked donkey balls like chitterlings on rye crisp without the benefit of hot sauce hiding the shit taste. Pig apparently now has been culturally reappropriated from the police and is now the new dirty word of 2025 when somebody asks you something and you have an anxiety attack at the question to shut them up. Talk about fucking up your teachable moments in a huffed Kool Aid haze.
This book sucks so bad at it’s one job that it proves just because you can doesn’t mean you should.
Just in case you missed it, the audiobook is available free here:
Damn if this isn’t the funniest shit Canada has done since Kids In The Hall. I had a blast satirically reviewing it.
