Everyone knows Scott Adams, the creator of Dilbert, as the king of workplace humor. His insights into the crazy world of business have long been on display in his hugely popular comic strip and bestselling books like The Dilbert Principle. But there's much more to life than work, and it turns out that the man behind Dogbert and the Pointy-Haired Boss has an equally outrageous take on life outside the cubicle.
Adams ventures into uncharted territory in this collection of more than 150 short pieces on everything from lunar real estate to serial killers, not to mention politics, religion, dating, underwear, alien life, and the menace of car singing. He isn't afraid to confront the most pressing questions of our day, such as the pros and cons of toothpaste smuggling, why kangaroos don't drive cars, and whether Jesus would approve of your second iPod.
Adams builds his latest book (after 2004's The Religion War) out of entries from his blog, which results in a lot of short chapters and abrupt changes in topic. Still, some ongoing themes do emerge, as the bestselling cartoonist discusses his wedding plans including his fear that he'll "dance like a drunken monkey" at the reception and his struggle with spasmodic dysphonia, a neurological condition which took away his voice during intimate conversations even though he could still give speeches to large audiences. He even tosses in a few Dilbert strips, with several examples of gags that were suppressed by his syndicate (he couldn't show a police officer firing a gun, for example, but a doughnut that shoots bullets met with approval). Readers who only know Adams through the comics page will discover a saltier tone to his cynicism. "If you have the choice of working as the guy who craps on the carpet, or the guy who has to clean it up," runs one bit of advice, "only one of those jobs lets you read a magazine at the same time." The randomness of this collection may not attract many new fans, but it's likely to keep his already sizable audience amused.
Wit, pure lovely humor at it's anecdotal best(;