Jeff B. Harmon At War

I am six years old and aware that both my mother and father are completely mad. Beverly, my mother, has the emotional stability of a child. Larry, my father - the producer of Bozo the Clown - is a pathological liar who teeters on the edge of megalomania.

I’m a loner who has the good fortune to disrespect my parents at an early age. I am not merely precocious. Beneath the crew cut and baby fat is a blossoming cynic.