We gave it a D
Shock jocks like Chicago-based Mancow rely on charisma, momentum, and volume, not logic, which is why the book form fails the raunchy radio rebel: Reread any portion of this paean to his late father and himself (oh, the hot chicks he’s slept with!) and you’ll find it’s held together with nothing but bluster and buzzwords. This European travelogue/quasi-biography (the lurching, free-form structure makes his career trajectory incomprehensible) is filled with self-important rants unintentionally rife with paradox, as when he visits the Dachau concentration camp, bemoans the Nazis’ inhumanity, but then says ‘someone should kill the artist’ responsible for the ‘horrendous’ memorial sculpture there. He must make more sense when you’re only half listening.