51: Newport

Alright, this book makes the claim that Rhode Island (the setting of Family Guy) is the "fabled watering place of the Very Rich." Now of course, as a blogger, I'm not typically allowed to know what the "watering places" for the wealthy are at any given point. Not even the trendy, flash in the pan ones, let alone the fabled ones.
Do the rich read novels about being rich? Wouldn't they rather read about poor people as form of comedy? I'm so out of my element that I'm just going to let a couple of selections speak for themselves.

From the author biography page, "Edwin Gilbert divides his time between Europe, the sea coast of New England, and Bridgewater, Conn..." aww, that's just making me feel crappy about myself. let's try another.

This describes the beginning of a sex act between the two leads. "Presently, mysteriously, the barrier between what had been and what was, vanished with starling speed, like a mound of sand suddenly washed away by the rush of tide." Its like they gold dipped a Nobel literature winner and forced him, under musket (was fired at the Battle of Lexington) point, to narrate their couplings.

Aww, jeez this ain't for me guys. I gotta wipe my mind clean with some science fiction or whatever else low brow/for the poor sort of entertainment.

50: I Killed Adolf Hitler

For the fiftieth post, it might as well come back to Hitler...like always. So the conceit here is that this world is the same as ours except that instead of humans it's dogs. And time travel is possible. Just everything else is the same so you have no trouble just jumping into the narrative.

Now here's the saving part for a book that really doesn't need any saving...Hitler steals a time machine and goes into the future...to the present (within the books original timeline). He's still the famous Hitler (dog guy) so he can't expect to just walk around without attention. Kind distinctive looking guy (dog person). So simply cut the little whiskers off and change the hair. See...

Yeah, this really would seem to work. Not being ironic either (am required to point out the rare moments of gravitas). My brain is in no way capable of picturing Hitler without those touch points. I get those little sparklies, you know, from when your mind pushes itself too far.

You don't get those do you...crap it's the cancer isn't it. Yup, gonna end on a bad cancer joke.

49: Warman's Pez Field Guide

Somebody once told me that Ebay began as a service to connect Pez collectors. Or maybe I read it somewhere. Book or online, I'm not sure.

There's no origin to this factoid and I refuse to look it up now. Like most of the stuff I know, there's no way I could give an origin citation for at least 90 per cent of it. sure, I look at the nature of my life and I assume it was from a book--I love books. But I like a lot of things. Maybe it was a fact from the lid of some soft drink or on the back of some cereal box suggesting to add educational value in the stead of nutrition.

At this point, if I think about it, I'm a little afraid at just how much of those facts that comprise my knowledge are random errant bits of misinformation good intentioned or not. So I'll just have a cupcake instead. Lots of vitamins in those.

48: Slow News Day

This is one of those extremes on my entertainment road. A nice quiet tale--city girl moves to the country, is underwhelmed but in a shocking twist eventually begins to cherish it. And a guy.

This is one of my favorite authors (and illustrator for it is indeed the example of a graphic novel), but I just can't read him any old time. Most of the time I gotta escape...something, I don't know what and stopping to think or even to end this sentence is just the sort of thing that would allow it catch up to me. Sometimes though, I enjoy the quiet and solid tale attempting to furnish me with real emotional responses. Sometimes. (ahh, that's a hack ending but I got no other)

47: Assignment Angelina

Oh this is one of those exposes, right? All about some wayward wild child without any good upbringing doing that which she shouldn't. Plus, in addition to the lack of parenting, she's got that genetic deformity. Crazy eyes! She looks like Lizzy Caplan (one of the stars of Party Down--please, only hipsters in the know comprehend that) sent back in time to ruin the good intentions of whatever the factual counterparts to the Mad Men cast were.
Some sort of hussy Terminator...which could star Lizzy Caplan! Ooh, now it's all a great big circle and my logic is complete! Sleep? What sleep? I remember Thursday, sure. All my thoughts now equal the direction of thought intended to be most direct in action, you understand? Fine, I'll take a nap.

46: I've got to Talk to Somebody, God

Not entirely sure that Marjorie here didn't intend for her name to be part of the title. Just from this cover, doesn't Marjorie seem like the sort of person crying about their loneliness to a multitude of friends.

Marjorie: I've got to have somebody to talk to...God. You know things have just been really hard for me lately, what with my hip which you probably don't even know about since we haven't talked much lately. Not blaming you dear; you're very busy I'm sure. Still...

God: Now I'm really glad you wanted to catch up, but I've got this thing in like five minutes in Peru where...

Marjorie:...it all started during that recent bout of ice we had the other day. Steven, that's the Williams' boy from down the street, is supposed to clear my lanes for me during every bad bit of weather, but he just didn't get around to it that day. Hurrumph, he won't be seeing nickel one for that chore til my hip stops aching, I'll tell you that. Though you have to admire him accomplishing even that little that he has, what with all the drama under that roof...

God: Look! It's my only begotten son, Jesus. He'll want to hear all about that, bye Marjorie.

Jesus: Why hello...

Marjorie: Now why didn't I see you the other day at church. Weren't moping about the beach again were you?

Jesus: No, no, I was carrying this guy during a crisis of...

Marjorie: Anyway, I'd expect you'll be wanting to hear all about the Williams indelicate goings on as well, but first Miss Simpkins would just keel right on over if I didn't...

This really could go on forever, butI...I shall be the salvation this time and end it. Oh yeah.

45: The Ninth National Congress of the Communist Party of China (Documents)

Nothing about the book, but more so about people today. Within the bounds of one of my classes today, quite engrossed in not paying attention I was pulled away from inactivity by an emphatic "I don't like rednecks." Scenario: this is said in a rural town a couple hundred miles or so from a metropolitan complex. Again, this is farm country; the town in question is aggressively surrounded by corn. The speaker, a younger female, is thick (probably the corn) in ragged clothing in a way which, combined with the college class, suggests choice if not motivation. The teacher herself is by her own casual conversational testimony a farmer. The atmosphere apart form comment is country friendly, alright.

Next, another student not two minutes later describes that his (walking) path to Walmart at one time included crossing a pig farm. A pig farm. In town. On his way to Walmart. No comment escapes anyone else.

Fine...we're not a talkative bunch at the moment. Yet, not five minutes more multiple people in the class admit--without any admitted connection to the prior comments--that they've participated in the redneck fishing event "round these parts."

Suddenly I'm all proud of my relatively urban background. I've heard of irony and they haven't. I like feeling superior.