Politics - News Analysis

Major Book Retailer Refuses to Carry Marjorie Taylor Greene’s Trashy Tell-All and Don Jr. is Crying ‘CENSORSHIP!’

Republicans are fit to be tied.

Just ahead of the release of Georgia Republican Marjorie Taylor Greene’s book MTG, retailer Hudson Booksellers announced they will not be carrying the title.

You may know Hudson if you’ve ever taken an airplane, as they are the country’s largest book chain in airports and train stations. Sales at locations like this can be incredible as patrons try to think of something to do during their long trips.

Of course, MTG might be considered by some to be more suited to the sleep aid aisle of the store.

“We wish you luck with your publishing endeavors, but we will not be carrying your title,” Hudson told Greene last month. They explained that their process for what titles to carry is “highly subjective” and based on sales history. Greene, of course, has no sales history, as this is her first book.

Donald Trump Jr. had a minor freakout about the turn of events, and said as much in a tweet:

Of course, what the ex-president’s son fails to remember is that only the government can “censor” anything. Hudson may not be carrying the book, but they certainly didn’t prevent her from writing it, and have nothing to do with whether or not anyone else decides not to carry it.

This is the same capitalism that your dad built his empire on, Junior.

Ironically, censorship of books — being a thing only government can do — is something that Marjorie Taylor Greene herself has attempted to do. That didn’t stop her from retweeting Junior’s post, however.

So what can you expect from the book that you might be missing out on if you only buy books in airports?

Well, I doubt we’ll ever see the phrase “Jewish Space Lasers” from her, but you can definitely expect a lot of craziness. There aren’t many, even in this Congress, who come close to matching her level of paranoia, conspiracy, and vitriol.

That doesn’t sound like a book I want to read anyway.

meet the author

Andrew is a dark blue speck in deep red Central Washington, writing with the conviction of 18 years at the keyboard and too much politics to even stand. When not furiously stabbing the keys on breaking news stories, he writes poetry, prose, essays, haiku, lectures, stories for grief therapy, wedding ceremonies, detailed instructions on making doughnuts from canned biscuit dough (more sugar than cinnamon — duh), and equations to determine the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow. A girlfriend, a dog, two cats, and two birds round out the equation, and in his spare time, Drewbear likes to imagine what it must be like to have spare time.


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