"Arthur Frommer's Branson,"
a travel guide he assigned to himself because of his Missouri boyhood. While he hoped to enjoy writing a book that celebrated the city's enterprise, he was repulsed by what he saw.
"I hated the jingoism. I hated these country singers, who had all been draft dodgers themselves during Vietnam, who marched down the aisle with drum beats, with machine-gun bullets, and waved the flag," he says, still disgusted. "Also, all of these people who become so religious! ... Many of the country-music theaters in Branson are used as stages for proselytizing."
"It's the only guidebook in history," he says, "that tells the reader, in effect, do not go!"'