I am self-exiled and remaining in a soviet East Berlin shit’tank not too far from Kraftwerk industrials of tube sky smoke and rocket buggery socket bar, where a week ago a small creature chew through the wires and make Berlin do the electric blind. This book caught my self medicated eye and i would very much like to read, no, yes? Kraftwerk. I just paid 10 euro last week at mine favorite Berlin fleece market to a jerk for a Kraftwerk vinyl that had no sleeve, just a scratched rekord in the thin suitcase of an highly Artistic LP cover. It is Gut to live in the Berlins to fully appreciate the Kraftwerks. To ride the rails with the dying dull. To see the traffic of people who dress in ugly clothings made for blind mannequins and mk ultra agents of the assassination ensemble. It is good to go on the train trolly and ride in the gut organs, to journal through the tunnels and to hear the honking of Turk, splintered chav, ex-goth come-down miserabalist as you side-step the dog linx, flaming Antifa Tampax missiles, in Anti-paradise parasite city. To Kraftwerk as those built to werk with no inner krafting, flee to work as there is no mac of Kraft only you off the grid gone macbooking under brutalist skies. Kraftwerk book? What is a book of paper now these days. Something to read on the rails? Something that if bad may be used to catch self on own flame? Maybe much so. Chernobyl Bob gives it 7 thumbs Up.