Pretty damn stupid

If you asked me about Lunatics by Dave Barry and Alan Zweibel, I'd tell you it is pretty damn stupid.

If you asked my why I read most of it, I'd tell you I am pretty damn stupid.

The trouble is that I suspect the authors would be delighted with that description of the book and me.

Take two guys. One of whom spent years writing humorous newspaper columns. That's a way of saying he was two (or three) clicks short of funny. (That was my stupid attempt at being as humorous as Dave Barry.) The other guy wrote for Saturday Night Live, Gary Shandling's Show, Monk, and Curb Your Enthusiasm. (That's my second attempt as being as humorous as Dave Barry.)

Don't get it? Neither do I. And it makes more sense than the book.

I think what happened is that these two guys had too much to drink one night and challenged each other to collaborating on a book. Somebody wrote the first chapter with a humorous cliff hanger ending and passed it to the other guy. The other guy wrote a second chapter building on the humorousness of the first and ended it with a humorous cliff hanger, and passed it back to the first guy for the next chapter. Both of them were intent on stumping the other with their chapter non-endings and stupid developments.

Much of the humorousness reminded me of absurd things my 6th-grade buddy and I would make up after reading a new issue of Mad Magazine (25¢ Cheap). Pretty damn stupid.

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