controled chaos

I believe that Catcher in the Rye is a book. And I also believe that the book we are reading (which, convieniently, happens to be said Catcher in said Rye) is a book (clever, eh?) that has been over analyzed by teachers and the literate equivelant to fanatic followers of any clan or cult, and has been twisted about through the narrow openings and screen doors of America, soiling a half-way decent book like an old man soils his diapers.
The book of a boy with a possible mental illness (or maybe he's just a jerk) who has a tendency to fail at most everything and peeps at his neighbors in the hotel and likes to drink and smoke, has been put under a magnifying glass and is ready to burn if scrutinized any longer.
To you, oh noble followers of this magnificent blog (all 9 of you) I call for an ursurpation, an overthrow of the current literature demands...a form of controled chaos if you will, to insure that a travesty of this magnitude shall not transpire in these, our sacred halls, only slightly soiled by something something of something something else.
Arise my minions! Do my bidding!