Deliriously Happy

Larry Doyle

• Verlag: Ecco
• Jahr: 2011
• ISBN:
  9780062096814
• Thema: Literatura
• Thema: Ensayos literarios

Do you like dogs? Babies? Baby dogs? Have you ever eaten ice cream or had love troubles? Wish there were dirty parts in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn?

If you answered yes to any of these questions, then this is the book for you.

It's all here: This impressively consecutive collection of funny writing by Larry Doyle, the winner of the 2008 Thurber Prize for American Humor, a former writer for The Simpsons, and the author of I Love You, Beth Cooper, brings together an astonishing range of subjects under the umbrella of hilarious—an umbrella that is your free gift if you order right now.

Too late. But you can still take home this enormously entertaining read, featuring writing from the New Yorker, Esquire, and National Lampoon, along with never-before-seen pieces only available in this exclusive offer. Here's what other happy customers had to say:

"[Doyle] is, as his credits suggest, wickedly funny." — New York Times Book Review

"If Earth ever needs an Interplanetary Humor Ambassador, Larry Doyle's the guy."— Washington Post

High Spirits

Media Culpa

Apology to Our Readers from Vigilante-Statesman editor and publisher Bud Hamsterman

Yesterday, some editions of the Vigilante-Statesman contained an editorial criticizing Mayor Bob McNaught for his recent handling of the Crick Creek bond issue. For the record, the Honorable Mayor McNaught, despite his miniature, squatty appearance and frequently affected demeanor, cannot be accurately described as a “mincing dwarf.”

True dwarfs, while of somewhat smaller stature than the average person, are otherwise normal, functioning human beings who make valuable contributions to our society. The same certainly cannot be said of Mayor McNaught. In any case, the correct appellation for such size-challenged individuals is “little person.” This has been official Vigilante-Statesman style since 2008. Furthermore, it is not this paper’s policy to insinuate that dwarfs mince, nor that mincing individuals are dwarfs.

Also, as Vigilante-Statesman readers are well aware, this state is considering riverboat gambling as a way to raise muchneeded revenue for its education and drug-rehabilitation programs. Thus, depicting Mayor McNaught as “One-Eyed Bob,” a nineteenth-century dandy slick replete with a pencil-thin mustache and silk pinstripes, is not simply a bad cliché; it comes at the worst possible time. Moreover, this characterization of the mayor as a dishonest riverboat rogue only perpetuates an ancient stereotype that professional gamblers have worked hard to dispel. To our knowledge, at no time has any professional gambler in this community been linked to the mayor or his activities.

As the newspaper of record in this community, accuracy is our watchword. Nevertheless, a reading of yesterday’s editorial suggests that some members of our editorial board were passing notes and not paying attention during Mrs. Anclade’s history classes. Specifically, the statement “Like a tiny Napoleon, the mayor stands before those who would improve our school-lunch program and declares, ‘Let them eat snack cakes!’” completely disregards the fact that the original quote upon which this misguided attempt at humor is based has never been attributed to Napoleon at all, but rather to some other French person, who most scholars now agree never said it in the first place. Also, while most will acknowledge that Mussolini’s foreign policy and human-rights records were poor, to call the mayor a “municipal Mussolini” only reveals our editorial writers’ ignorance of the Fascist dictator’s successful public-works programs.

And matters of accuracy aside, our editorial board displayed the height of insensitivity by evoking Genghis Khan in this context at a time when his own people are reevaluating the historical importance of this great warrior and, yes, statesman. To our Mongol readers, we apologize.

Our editorial writers had no evidence upon which to claim, even facetiously, that the mayor is the Antichrist. For the record, Bob McNaught is not the Antichrist. The Antichrist is Bryan Reed, Paul Bodeen, and The Ax, three talented musicians who play Thursdays and Fridays at the Goat’s Head Soup Kitchen out on Old Schwermer Road. The Vigilante-Statesman did not mean to inadvertently imply that these earnest young men were in any way responsible for the slow, inexorable degradation of our fair city into filth and decay.

And finally, we would like to state most emphatically that pigs are actually intelligent and clean animals, and likely would not lie down with the mayor, or any other corrupt official. They are also safe to eat. In an attempt to draw a comparison with the mayor, the editorial failed to make this distinction clear.

We understand the County Farmers’ Association is considering canceling “Pork Barrel Days” as a result of this ill-considered metaphor. We hope this will not be the case, and that we can all put this whole unfortunate affair behind us.

Toward that end, I have taken steps as publisher to ensure that the Vigilante-Statesman remains free of such offenses in the future. Reluctantly, I have accepted the resignation of Jim Hamsterman, our editorial-page editor, and have suspended without pay our two editorial writers, Ted Nuggles and Lissa McNaught. Lucy Hamsterman, the editorial-page copy editor who should have caught these mistakes, has been reassigned and will not be eligible for this year’s World Series tickets pool.

And yet, even this is not enough. In a very real sense, all of us here at the Vigilante-Statesman are responsible for fostering the ignorance, prejudice, and unprofessionalism that led to these truly regrettable errors. Therefore, I am announcing that, with this afternoon’s sports final, the Vigilante-Statesman will cease publication for the next three weeks, during which time I want the remaining staff of this paper to think about what we’ve done.

CLARIFICATION

In an editorial in yesterday’s paper, Mayor Bob McNaught was referred to as Mayor Boob, Mayor McNutt, Boob McNothing, Boo McMuffin, and in a number of other ways that cannot be printed in a family newspaper. According to Vigilante-Statesman style, these are all nicknames and should have been identified as such with the use of quotation marks. The Vigilante-Statesman regrets the error.

Local Wag

Reprinted with permission from the Manhattan Blue Streak, the alternative weekly newspaper of Manhattan, Illinois, located just thirteen miles west of Monee. The Wag is written by Laurence Doyle, also the paper’s editor, publisher, and circulation manager.

Men are but children of a larger growth.

—Dryden

Pinch Me: That’s what our own bachelor mayor squealed repeatedly during his oh-so-surprising né day soirée out at the Red Heifer Beefbarn last Friday eve. A consuming politician, Mayor Ed moved and shaked from table to table, requesting his Big 55 B-day spankings from Manhattan’s more-than-happy-to-oblige business and civic leaders, including longtime Ednemesis P. Greg Roberts, who lost count and had to start over—three times.

Mayor Ed was beat red by the time he paddled over to the cheap seats, where the Times-Caveat’s Ron Peterson, citing his journalistic credentials as a real reporter from Manhattan’s real weekly, refused to “become part of the story.” Wag didn’t mind one bit, though, and when our top public servant further requested “a pinch to grow an inch,” we promptly complied—and Wag’ll be damned if His Honor didn’t grow an inch, at least…

In town just for the B-bash: the mayor’s former college bunkmate and longtime companion, John Travolta. The up-again-down-again-up-again-down-again-up-again actor made a point of letting everyone know how much he loved banging his female wife, who couldn’t make it. His Honor the B-day Boy appeared a tiny tad put out by this hetero-than-thou display, but hey, it’s his party, he can poop if he wants to…

Later, in a private gathering closed to the media, His Poutiness bachelorpartied until nearly 1:00 a.m., male celebonding with Travolta, former Indiana sen. Larry Craig, and the Scissor Sisters.

Still Dying: Perky Siobhan Mitchell rallied out of her coma once again last week to make yet another bizarre last wish: to kiss the hand of billionaire songbird Justin Bieber. Don’t get Wag wrong—we’d love to lick the lad’s delicate digits ourselves—but what made frisky little Siobhan’s wish curious was that she last emerged from consciousness back in December 2006, before Bieber’s very first YouTube assault. It’s a miracle, or something.

Well, no sooner than you could say “Front-page banner in t...