“Tim” (Eric Wareheim) and “Eric” (Tim Heidecker) are two big-shot Hollywood bozos. They have penetrated the worlds of television, movies, and jazz singing (just to name just a few) with their perverted brand of humor that involves spoon-feeding the masses heaping servings of razzle dazzle, monkeyshines, monkeydazzle, razzle shines, as well as commentary about consumerist culture and its many absurd permutations.

Now they’ve turned a page (literally!) and are getting serious. They’re trying to enter the world of publishing with the quasi-religious text Tim and Eric’s Zone Theory: 7 Easy Steps to Achieve a Perfect Life. It’s trash. They just wrote it so they can buy more Porsches for their Porsches to drive around in. “Tim” and “Eric” do not care about you or your soul or the chicken soup you feed it. Do not buy their lies. Do not buy their book. (But if you must buy it, please use this Amazon link as Gawker will receive a small commission.)

Granted, there are some things that Zone Theory gets right. It’s based on the idea that in order to achieve the subtitular “perfect life,” you must master seven main aspects of it: friendship, family, business, love, health, poems, and food. I’d add kittens, porches, and lenticular imaging, but it’s hard to argue with the fundamental basis of this so-called “zone theory.” (It’s so obvious it’s more like “zone law,” am I right?) However, the ways they suggest applying their “life system” are all wrong, and, even worse, extremely problematic.

“Tim” and “Eric” start by telling you why you suck and why you need their “life system.” That’s no way to treat a customer, but a little criticism isn’t going to hurt you, you big baby. The brand of tough love that “Tim” and “Eric” dole out, however, is way more tough than love. It goes way beyond the kind of skin-toughening swording that turns Cringers into Battle Cats. Regarding you (yes you), they say, “Your skin crumbles and chaps easily and the people that know you are right to call you behind your back ‘blotchy boy.’” Blotch-shaming? That’s really the low these yahoos are stooping to in order to make you think you need their book?

Elsewhere, “Tim” and “Eric” advise you to alienate yourself from your family so that you can further bond with your fellow Zone Theory adopters. This includes taking (and then divorcing) a “zone father.” They also advocate adult horseplay in the nude. Zone Theory is intended only for male men who identify as males, and while that may sound like something the book actually gets right (at last, a religion for us) what their almost constant encouragement of male bonding in this manner amounts to is a homosexualist agenda that simply feels retrograde in 2015—we no longer need to indoctrinate now that the government is doing it for us. The culture has moved on. Wake up, “Tim.” Wake up, “Eric.” Or should I say, wake up “Tim” and “Eric” since you’re undoubtedly sleeping in the same bed?!? (Nude?!?!!?)

An even more stinging thread of propaganda that runs throughout the book is the anti-bee sentiment. The authors (pigs, really) write (with their hooves, and I don’t even know how): “A WORD OF WARNING: The Zone Theory will not work if bees are around. Do not surround yourself with bees or beekeepers. If you are one of those who goes, ‘I need my bees!’ then this program isn’t going to work!” Disgusting. Haven’t bees suffered enough? When they sting you, do they not die?

Elsewhere, “Tim” and “Eric” distribute official documents that, guess what, aren’t very official!

They encourage you to take your brain weight (torsch), but provide absolutely zero advice about detaching and reattaching your head, which is necessary for an accurate reading.

They advocate the little-discussed practice of tube removal, but their science is all wrong.

My take? Of course you should remove the yards of tubes that run throughout your body, if in fact they are there, but poking holes in yourself clearly is a dangerous, inefficient way of doing so. You’re better of seeing an aesthetician who specializes in tube removal, or going on Retinol (or a retinoid such as Tazorac) and allowing the tubes to work themselves out the natural way without force. You get the feeling throughout Zone Theory that “Tim” and “Eric” overheard an expert talking about these important topics and then fell asleep, probably on their fancy canopy beds, in the middle. The result is a cosmic mess of spiritual advisement.

“Tim” and “Eric” also advise their readers to eat only white foods, and that’s racist.

Throughout the book are advertisements for various products that “Tim” and “Eric” seem to have developed themselves. There’s nothing wrong with advertising, and in fact, most of my favorite books (magazines) do this to some extent, but in this case, it comes off as greed from a couple of guys who use caviar as toothpaste and pages of their overpriced book for toilet paper when they misplace their undershirts. They claim in the introduction that running these ads has helped lower the cost of the book (it’s full color, so that’s one instance where their yammering actually rings true), but their products are clearly calculated to keep their pockets lined with cash and imported mints in exotic tins.

This machine is useless because diarrhea doesn’t talk.

Zone Theory is a sham, it’s quackery, it’s a puddle of mute horse diarrhea. What else could we possibly expect from a text that’s supposedly based upon teachings from one Ba’hee Nodaramoo Priss Dimmie, a “turkey man” who doesn’t seem to have existed before being invented for the sake of this book?

“Tim” and “Eric” advocate human sacrifice, but the only thing actually being sacrificed is innocent people’s hard-earned cash and stolen time. At the end of the day, all these merry-andrews want is clicks—the old fashioned kind that put the book into your cart and then take you to the checkout page. Do not follow their advice, do not believe their lies. Listen to me, do not drink their Kool-Aid. (But again, if you want to visit that checkout page—the internet’s promised land—please do so by using this Amazon link.)