Horror upon horrors:  Motha duckin’ emo-poets are assaulting my ears, filling my mind with thoughts like, “WTF was THAT?” and that odd mix of anger and puzzlement you get when you hear bad poetry and realize that a few minutes of your life were irrevocably lost to a barrage of emo-drivel.  They’re turning me into one of them; t-levels dropping, muscles withering into pasty, sun-starved sticks, sudden urge to wear sunglasses indoors …NO.  Open my eReader to Echo.  Magic flash.  Suddenly a squat rack appears in front of me and I fly under that bar and start knocking out deep, ass-to-calf squats with a vengeance.  Veins are standing out on my forehead, my limbs begin regenerating like a beat-to-crap Superman absorbing strength from sunlight.  The emo-poets flee in terror.  Get thee away from me, you self-indulgent, metal-faced basement-dwellers!

Protect yourself from sniveling pretension.  Get Echo Vol. 1 on Kindle here:  Vol. 1 on Kindle.  Vol. 2 on Kindle here:  Vol.2 on Kindle.