A few weeks ago I reviewed two self-published books, one was great, the other incredibly dull, but as I mentioned I had planned to review three. This week we deal with that third book - Rants From The Mountain by Allan Saro. It's pitched as being a mix of advice for beginner snowboarders/skiers, a behind-the-scenes look at lift operations and the story of Allan Saro's season. That's what was promised, but what was delivered was something entirely different...
The first time I experienced a prostate orgasm was at four o'clock in the morning, in my apartment in Orange County, New York.
That's the first line of the book, and like any standard advice book for beginner snowboarders/skiers, it starts with an anecdote about him having a strap-on up his ass. Now this could have gone one of two ways; he could have managed to strike the delicate balance between crudity, insight and emotion that Belle de Neige did in her excellent book, or he could have taken the route that nobody could possibly want. Unfortunately he chose route two, and the results are horrific.
----------------------------------------WARNING: Just so you are under no illusion, every quote from this book is incredibly offensive. This is the point to step away if you don't want that sort of thing in your life.
After the initial reminiscences about anal sex, he swerved into some standard advice for beginner snowboarders/skiers, covering off a the topics of what to wear and when to go. Then just six pages in, we get to the sub-section 'Snowboarding vs. Skiing'. Now, I don't know what you'd be expecting to read when you start a section with that title, but I'm pretty sure you wouldn't expect it to be about Allan Saro having unprotected sex with an underage girl. Sadly, that's exactly what it is...
I had fucked strippers, models, women twice my age, many seventeen-year-olds, even my twenty-five-year-old bio teacher when I was in the ninth grade. But this? This was an entirely different level. If I got busted for this, I wouldn't be yelled at, have my hours cut, or even get fired. I would go to fucking prison - not jail, where you work out and make a few friends, but prison. I would be getting slammed in the ass by serious criminals who look at a pathetically delicate white boy like me as fresh meat. But them, that's what being an American is all about. It's about taking changes and living the spirit of entrepreneurialism. I saw an opportunity and rolled the dice. in a way, by having sex with that young woman, I was helping not only our economy but the true spirit of America.
I'm not from the US, so correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm very sure he's horribly misunderstood the key aspects of the American dream. As if all of that wasn't quite heinous enough, he ploughed on...
I didn't care if Ski Patrol was about to walk in on us, if the next liftee was pounding on the door, or if a little kid was being trampled to death by the chairs, this shit was going down. Four minutes before the next liftee was due up to relieve me I pulled my cock out of Dylan and painted the state of Hawaii on her tanned stomach.
Clearly, by this point Allan Saro still felt like these few pages didn't vehemently insult quite every moral and belief of the Western world, so he then thought it would be a good opportunity to have a pop at it's predominant religion while also clarifying that he's fully aware of how wrong his actions are...
I'd like to think there was an angel there looking out for me, keeping me safe. I don't know a lot about Christianity, but from what news headlines I've read, they sure do seem good at covering up child molestation, so I'd like to think maybe God had a special plan for me that day.
By page 29 he'd moved on to explain how you can steal snowboard and ski gear, but he still managed to make that section worse by taking the time to regale us with a little more unwanted insight into his views on children.
I was due back at my station half and hour ago, but I thought it was best I stayed put to keep a watchful eye. (Also to finish rubbing one out, but some old douche-bag walked by my car before I could cum.) Now I would have to wait for another scantily dressed preteen to run by with her neglectful, equally scantily clad mother.
(Yeah that's right. Grown men fantasize about having sex with your little girl. Think it's fucked up? Stop letting them dress like prostitutes and grown women, you fucking asshole. ... You're a disgusting piece of shit for allowing your daughter to dress like that.)
After horrifically misreading how everyone else thinks, he continues his quest to be the most repugnant man in snowboarding history...
After a month of being there, the job was starting to kill me, I had to work in brutal conditions (usually while high), for shit pay. The owner was onto me and breathing down my neck, desperate to fire me, but what I discovered next made it all worthwhile. I finally found my personal honey pot. I found a veritable assembly line of young girls, on that I would savagely harvest. Doing more drugs and underage girls in a span of five weeks than my entire life up to that point.
Mind you, I would be subtle. I've watched enough 'Dateline: to Catch A Predator' specials to know how to ride the fine line. I had a very delicate system.
Seriously Allan, Dateline; To Catch A Predator is not a fucking how-to-guide.
He then cracked on to some kid in the lift queue:
That is why you should never leave your child unattended on the mountain. Not only can they get hurt, but also fucked. I'm not sure what's worse, knowing your child is in a hospital bed somewhere or knowing she's in my bed somewhere. A little parenting goes a long way.
What's worse Allan, is you.
Chapter 4: Parenting
Good god, he's got a chapter where he has the gall to hand out parenting advice, and by now you should know where this is heading. By the end of this chapter he's had sex with another underage girl after dosing her up on E, weed and alcohol and we get this rotten story about him trying to get her out of his apartment before another girl turns up...
I hated it when girls couldn't get the hint. Don't get me wrong, Rachel was gorgeous, and I had a great time railing her. She was one of the few girls that could make me cum hard without letting me fuck her in the ass.
Rachel also wouldn't shut the fuck up. The sound of her vomiting was getting on my nerves.
It was quiet as we walked out into the parking lot. I reached my hand down her shirt and gave her a passionate kiss.
"You're incredible," I said.
"You too," she said with a smile. "Sorry I don't have my license yet, I'll get it soon enough."
"It's okay, cowgirl," I replied. "How long until you get it?"
"Soon!" she said enthusiastically. "I turn sixteen next month and my road test is scheduled the week after!"
"Great, be good," I said as I slammed the door of my Subaru and drove around the block to check my email.
And he proceeds to give precisely no shits about that bit of news.
She is fifteen-years-old. Fifteen! She is fucking fifteen Allan!
After several months of being shit at his job and being an absolutely repellent human being, Allan still somehow expects the reader to feel sorry for him because his job was slightly difficult. Eventually he decides to quit and like any unbalanced individual he figures the best way to do this is the following:
I started going through each room, each desk, each drawer, trying to find anything of Bella's that I could steal. There were personal lady items throughout. I grabbed one particularly intimate piece that I won't mention in fear of her reading this and pressing charges. I instantly got hard.
I pulled down all three layers of pants and my underwear. My bare ass sat on her comfy desk chair and I started furiously jerking off. With the smell of her tit sweat, and the fantasy of her catching me only to help me finish, I popped all over her computer desk and my hands.
He then then smears his seamen over "everything that people would touch", including three keyboards, the doorknobs, his boss's chair and her personal belongings. Finally he steals some valuables and makes his exit...
As I stormed out, I gawked at a little girl and her mother who were both dressed inappropriately.
"Wow, your daughter is hot, I would love to fuck her!" I shouted.
The woman looked horrified and quickly grabbed her child and started shuffling off towards the lift. Maybe now she will think twice about dressing her daughter like a whore.
"Yo bitch!" I shouted, "I work here! Welcome to the mountain you fucking slut!"
And there ends one of the bleakest books ever written.
Somehow this book is available for anyone to buy on Amazon. You might have got a sense of this already, but I'd not recommend it.
Just in case you were wondering what happened to Allan Saro he finished with a heart warming update on his life.
I eloped in downtown Hilo, Hawaii. To my beautiful wife HDR, without whom I would be lost. I currently reside in a quiet community in Pennsylvania, where I continue to write.
I'm sure, like me, you're all glad it all ended up working out swimmingly for Allan.
After reading the book through and being completely amazed that anyone would write anything this rotten and would want to actually put their name against these stories I reread the preface, looking for some sort of explanation. I didn't make much of the preface when I started reading the book, but after going through the experience some parts of it start making more sense.
My life has changed considerably since I first wrote this book. I got married, bought a house, and moved to the country. At the offset this book has been very off putting to most readers. I understood that when I first began to write it in October 2011. May goal was never to offend anyone.
You didn't want to offend anyone? Seriously? What the hell was the goal? What sort of person did you think wants to read a mix of; advice on taking up skiing/snowboarding, the dreary details about being a lift operator, all underlaid with insights into the life and thoughts of a sexual predator of young girls?
As a fair warning this book is extremely sexually charged. Despite heavy warning from not only my editor but also close friends and family I still believe the content of this book is worth exploring.
Then finally, because this single sentence surely makes everything all right, he throws in the big get-out-of-jail card....
It is 100 percent satire and should be taken as such.
One of two things is the truth; either this book is actually a grim insight into the deranged character of Allan Saro and his activities, and he should probably be on some sort of register, or, he has created the single least satirical satire in all of written history.
I'll leave it to you to decide.