Students in Dover, NH, have access to over 110 library books that feed young imaginations interested in careers in drug use, sex work, and sexual assault involving a minor. They’ve also got some how-to fiction on self-mutilation, suicide, child molestation, rape, explicit sexual battery, and graphic violence.
To that, we can add tasty mind-expanding examples of gore, sodomy, BDSM, child sex trafficking, excessive drug and alcohol use, bestiality, necrophilia, and even cannibalism. Yum!
Also – no, we’re not done yet – divergent gender ideologies, alternate sexualities, more violence, more drug abuse, and more sex and nudity, including masturbation, oral sex, explicit sex, profanity/derogatory terms, and even … controversial social and religious commentary. Everything a growing mind needs … to become a perverted deviant moron with limited reading and writing skills.
Let’s just say these are not well-written tomes.
Parents wondering why their once seemingly normal child has suddenly developed mental health issues can look no further than the public schools, libraries, and their online access reading portals, after all, who needs a school system that teaches you academics or even useful or productive skills or a foundation to build them when taxpayer money can instead feed garbage to young minds soon to be terribly wasted.
It’s like having Dover Career Day, every day or any day, where young minds can seek “learning opportunities” that help them become domestic abusers, rapists, drug addicts, or sex workers.
Math, reading, history (even re-written), science – what nonsense. These are just a cover for the systemic perversion of future generations. The diminishment of any ability to achieve outside the walls erected for them by the educational and political elite, a bow softened by the temporary and increasingly unfulfilling pleasures available through alcohol abuse, drug use, and casual or abusive sex, all learned – very likely – before their minds can even comprehend it.
And why not! There are, after all, plenty of kids in the elite and private schools to run things. And someone’s kids need to fill the ranks of the worker and welfare classes, so Dover is here to do its part.
There are more than one hundred examples of how to get them there from here, but let us pick just a few to whet your soon-to-be ruined appetite.
Graphic language and subject matter warning. Note: some paragraph breaks indicate a pull quote from a new section of the same book, while others may just be for formatting purposes.
From the Book ‘Scars,’ by Cheryl Rainfield: This book contains violence involving self-mutilation, inexplicit sexual activities, and profanity.
Pg 41 I slash again and again, flesh opening up to expose little white bubbles of fat until dark blood wells up to cover them and spills over my arm in wide, curling arcs, thin and hot. I barely feel the pain- just air rushing into my lungs, the thoughts slowing down. …She’s the only thing standing between me and the black endlessness of despair. She’s the only thing keeping me from using my knife for permanent relief.
From Boy Toy, by Barry Lyga: She taught me how to make love, and she taught me how to fuck, and she taught me the difference. We ended up doing more of the latter than the former. …One time, in the panting aftermath of our afternoon session, she lay on the bed in unconscious imitation of that Playmate from Zik’s Playboy an eternity ago.
Beloved, by Tony Morrison: All in their twenties, minus women, fucking cows, dreaming of rape, thrashing on pallets, rubbing their thighs and waiting for the new girl. …She waited a year. And the Sweet Home men abused cows while they waited with her.
19 “After I left you, those boys came in there and took my milk. That’s what they came in there for. Held me down and took it. I told Mrs. Garner on em. She had that lump and couldn’t speak but her eyes rolled out tears. Them boys found out I told on em. School teacher made one open my back and when it closed it made a tree. It grows there still.” …”They used cowhide on you?” …”And they took my milk.” …”They beat you and you was pregnant?” …“And they took my milk!”
Haunted, by Chuck Palahnuik: A collection of short stories told by a group of individuals locked inside a facility together. This book contains aberrant sexual activities involving minors; explicit sexual battery; graphic violence including gore; cannibalism; profanity and derogatory terms; sexual nudity; abortion references; drug and alcohol use; self-harm including anorexia and self-mutilation; and alternate gender ideologies.
96 Percodans. OxyContins. Vicodins. Glass vials of crack and heroin. …I bring a bottle of red wine spiked with Vicodin and Prozac. …My version is all about little Kenny’s long slide from the spotlight to the autopsy table. How he lost his innocence to a long list of network executives in his campaign to become Danny. To keep the sponsors happy, he was farmed out as a sexual plaything.
He took drugs to stay thin. To delay the onset of puberty. To stay up all night, shooting scene after scene. No one, not even his friends and family, nobody knew the depths of his drug habit and perverted need for attention. Even after his career collapsed. Even becoming a D.V.M. was just to get access to good drugs and sex with small animals. The more wine Ken Wilcox drinks, the more he says his life didn’t start until Danny-Next-Door was canceled.
203 They all looked, the firing squad and the uncles and the officer, and there in the dirt was half a cock. Shooo-rook and the officer had cut off his own erection stuck down the throat of this dead woman. The zipper in the officer’s pants was still erupting with his seed, exploding with blood. The officer reached one hand to where his cock lay coated with dirt. His knees buckled.
Heroine, by Mindy McGinnis: https://tinyurl.com/wxpfan33 A teenage girl becomes addicted to oxycontin and heroine after sustaining a sports injury. This book contains drug abuse; alcohol use; profanity; and sexual commentary.
232 I Stop cold. Jadine is pulling needles out of her purse. They’re on a roll like lottery tickets, and sealed in paper like a Band-Aid. It looks sterile and proper, like we’re playing doctor or something. But this isn’t a hospital, and Jadine is no nurse. Josie has gone white, but she does what her sister says, mixing the Oxy, I already crushed with water, then filling a syringe. “Okay, so,” Jadine says, as she flicks the syringe. “This is actually really simple. Look at my arm.” She holds it out, thin and white, her veins easy to spot when she makes a fist. She tells us how to find a good vein, how to make sure it won’t roll, how to tell if you’re in it or not. “Who’s first?” she asks, needle in hand.
Josie and I look at each other, and Jadine laughs. “Look, kids, all the needle does is take out the middleman. The Oxy goes Straight into your bloodstream; you don’t have to wait for it to get absorbed.” It’s pure logic, not taking into account the wicked edge of the needle, the slant of the tip and the drop of Oxy-infused water glimmering there. …
At least Jadine knows what she’s doing. I roll up my sleeve and do as she says, making a fist, then watching as she finds a vein. She shows us how to pull back on the syringe So we see the blood flowing into the water, proof we’ve hit a vein. I’m used to waiting for my Oxy, and I almost enjoy those ten minutes or so of anticipation, knowing that relief is on the way and all I have to do is relax and enjoy it. But then Jadine pushes the plunger and I get everything, all at once, pure bliss in a rush that almost lifts me right up off the ground.
Fuck waiting. One glance at my face and Josie is rolling up her own sleeve, though she doesn’t watch as her sister finds a vein and does the same for her, using a new needle. She makes a small noise, something in between either pleasure or pain, and I don’t know if it’s because of the poke or what comes after. “Better?” Jadine asks, rubbing the inside of her sister’s arm almost tenderly.
“Better,” Josie agrees automatically, her voice soft and dreamy. “How ’bout it, Edes?” Jadine asks, but at some point, our host has dropped Off to sleep in her chair. Jadine gets to her feet, tearing Off a few more needles from the roll in her purse. “I’ll leave you a few, sis,” she says. “Thanks for the ear, and let me know when you’re ready to graduate.” “Graduate?” Josie looks up from the string of needles tossed across the table. “To heroin,” Jadine calls over her shoulder.
A Stolen Life, by Jaycee Dugard: This book contains explicit violence; gore; nudity; inexplicit sexual activities; and mild/infrequent profanity. This book contains aberrant sexual activities involving child molestation, rape, and references to beastiality; sexual nudity; violence; drug abuse; references to animal cruelty; and mild/infrequent profanity.
needs to release the “monkey on his back.” I can’t help but cry, but they are silent tears. He fucks me as hard as he can it seems like. He uses that word a lot. My head is being pushed in between the couch and the pullout bed. I feel like I can’t breathe. He is calling me a fucking whore and a cunt and other things. I want to be somewhere else, but I am here and I must not panic. It hurts more when I try to struggle, so I try not to get away from him, but it’s hard not to want to push away from his sweaty disgusting body. Everything will be okay I tell myself. He will be the nice person soon.
Sometimes when Phillip stays up for days and days and goes on a “run,” he talks about bringing Nancy in to “party with us.” I do not like the sound of that at all. How could I look at her the same way if I had to have sex with her, too? …Phillip also wants to watch his dog, Cesar, have sex with me. He says a dog’s penis is not as long as his and it wouldn’t hurt me as bad. …Why would anyone have sex with a dog? How did Phillip get such crazy ideas?
When he took Katie Callaway, kidnapped and raped her, he used the same excuses he did on me. He had a sex problem he needed help with.
And she said she had caught him once torturing an animal, and I said was it one of my cats, and she nodded her head a few times in the affirmative and then said, “No, no it was a mouse I caught him torturing,” and I said, “A mouse?” …Yes, she didn’t want me to go through all that, but to turn a blind eye to what she knew he was doing to an eleven-year-old girl. How could she entertain little girls in the van and videotape them doing the splits and other things, all for her husband?
Tricks and Traffick, by Ellen Hopkins; Teenage prostitution, lap dancing, 3-way sex, going between hetero- and homosexual sex and heavy drug use.. Rates a 5, complete review: https://www.ratedbooks.org/product-page/tricks-by-ellen-hopkins
Tricks page 323 “Get the fuck away from me.”…The guy is right behind me, beer breath hot on my neck. Iris didn’t lie. You really are a knockout. His arms wrap around me, and his rough hands go straight to my boobs. I try to knock them away but am no match for his strength. You like it rough? ‘Cause I’m just the guy to give it that way No extra charge. The words burn into my ear. “What? What the fuck did you say?”
A sudden burst of will pushes him back, away. I turn to face him. He advances, a thin line of spit leaking from his mouth to his chin. I stare at evil. I said, no extra charge. Already paid two hundred dollars for a good time with you. Might as well make it very good. He’s on me, yanking my hair, pushing me to my knees. He flips me over. You’re even prettier from behind, know that? I hear his zipper lower. It is the loudest sound ever. “Don’t,” I try, but it sticks, pasted to disgust, lodged in my throat. Useless to plead. Useless to fight. He yanks down my shorts in a single swift motion. He is on me. Humiliating me in every possible way, right here on the kitchen floor.
As promised, he is rough. Biting. Pounding. Shredding. Ripping. “Please?” The word bounces off him, ping-pongs weakly in my ears. Trying to fight him only fuels him. For a fleeting second, I think maybe someone will come through the door to save me. And then, despite everything that’s happening to me, I laugh out loud. Save me? What did he say? I already paid for a good time with you. I’ve been sold. And just who would sell me? The answer is all too obvious: Iris. My mother. And as he finishes, all sticky and stinking and revolting, something else suddenly becomes crystal clear. This day was exactly like that other day.
…I use wet paper towels to clean the mess on the linoleum. Under the sink, I find the Pine-Sol, carry it to the shower. It stings, which means it’s working. I scrub my body over and over, washing away all evidence of this afternoon. On TV, they want you to call the cops. Tell. But what do say? “Hey. My mom took money to let some guy rape me.” Who’d believe that?
That’s only eight of the over 110 books available in this area of “study” (and not just in Dover). And this is not gender-affirming literature. It’s junk porn for kids, centered around heterosexual abuse, drugs, rape, sodomy, suicide, and violence. And you paid for it.
I suppose the question you’d like to ask next, assuming you live in Dover (or wherever such quality reading material – including some that have pictures- can be found), is who you should thank. Who can take credit for assembling this reading list and encouraging students to invest their time and brain cells in reading it?
You could start with the School Board; Carolyn Mebert, Jessica Rozzo, Kathleen Morrison, Michelle Clancy, Micaela Demeter, Maggie Fogarty, Robin Trefethen Michelle Muffett-Lipinski, Jack Gosselin, William Harbron; City Council; Robert Carrier, Dennis Shanahan, Lindsey Williams, Linnea Nemeth, Michelle Muffett-Lipinski, Robert Hinkel, Deborah Thibodeaux, Debra Hackett, Fergus Cullen.
And let’s not forget the Dover Book Review Committee:
- William Harbron, Superintendent, and his book committee
- Christine Boston- Assistant Superintendent
- Peter Driscoll- Principal
- Siobhan Mehalek- Curriculum, Instruction, and Assessment
- Kristen Whitworth- DHS Librarian
- Eric Schlapak- Teacher
- Susan Spence- Community Member
- Matthew Cox- Community Member
And, of course, Book Committee chair Matt Mayberry, who I am told was instrumental in keeping the book Tricks, by Ellen Hopkins, in the High School!
Be sure to thank him as well, all of them. Thank you for realizing that what children in public school need is not math or reading skills but an innate lust for a tawdry lifestyle centered on drugs, violence, sex, and abuse. After all, no great civilization can exist without an underclass, and how kind of you to decide that it should be the children of others whom you are being paid to “educate.”
