The Fan Man by William Kotzwinkle

Man, I dig The Fan Man, man, the way I dug Spinal Tap, man.  The Fan Man is Spinal Tap for hippies, man.  A spoof about hippies, man, or one hippie, Horse Badorties, man.  The book is a raucous, politically incorrect, purposely offensive and misogynistic, sexist, soberphobic hysterical satire, man.  It is appalling, yet so appealing, man.  That Horse Badorties thinks he runs a music academy that is just a front for luring fifteen year old "chicks" he yearns to score with, man, back at his disgusting pad, man (when he has a pad and isn't homeless, man) is the appalling aspect, man, while watching him act so clumsily and cluelessly that he can't complete the deal with the underage chickadees, man, is the appealing aspect, man, when he foils himself in his endearingly stoned stupidity, man.  Horse Badorties is so clueless, man, he doesn't know he's a clueless man.

I think "Laat Maar Waaien" means "The Fan Man,"
man.  Like whoa!

He uses the word "man" in every utterance, every sentence, man, the way Valley Girls used to use the word "like," man.  Like all the time, man.  Like, way too much, man.  Like it is so not bitchen, man, how often "man" is used, man, in William Kotzwinkle's, The Fan Man.  Like he never stops saying the word "man" in every sentence of the entire novel, man, so that after a while, man, reading about Horse Badorties and his goomba-ish absurd shenanigans in The Fan Man, man, you find yourself starting to talk like him not just inside your head, man, but to your wife and kids, man.  To your dog, man.  It's so sad, man, talking like that around the house nonstop, man.

Horse Badorties' hippie vernacular, man, becomes damn near impossible, man, to get out of your fucking head, man, once its gotten inside you, the fucking infection of hippie inflection, man, like some language-hippie-virus, man, gone global.  That voice of his, of Horse Badorties, man, gets stuck inside you, man, just like that wretched Taylor Swift song gets stuck inside you once you've heard it even just once, man.  Weeeeee.  Are never ever ever ever ever, getting back together, weeeeeee, are never ever ever ever EVER.  See what I mean, man?  Book is a far out trip, man.  Gonna heed The Fan Man's advice, man, of Horse Badorties, and go buy me some "Peruvian mango skins," man, to like cleanse the inorganic toxins out of my aura, man, so I'll only receive the purest, most precious and positively freshest vibes from the cosmos, man.  You dig, man?