Anyone who grew up reading comics in several decades ago remember those ads hawking all these cool things you could order. Or, better yet, a way to make money to win a bicycle. Of course, most people who answered these ads learned the most important lesson of their lives: There’s a sucker born every minute, and they read comic books.

Kirk Demarais’ great MAIL-ORDER MYSTERIES: REAL STUFF FROM OLD COMIC BOOK ADS! answers the lasting questions to those kids whose parents would not let them waste their time and money. And if you did, it’s a clear reminder of exactly what kind of crap you ended up with. Ironically, this book represents, without a doubt, some of the best money I ever spent.

The book is broken up into eight sections, from gadgets that promised special abilities (X-Ray Spex, anyone?) to money-making opportunities for the budding entrepreneur (did anybody actually read GRIT or sell flower seeds?).

Demarais needs to be commended on the thorough work he did here, spotlighting 150 items from those ads. How about those life-size monster posters or real, live ghosts? For each, we are shown the original ad, the actual item that would arrive, and Demarais’ very funny text that delves behind the mystery and customer satisfaction.

One of the greatest rip-offs covered are the Flashing Eyes. Wow, anyone who sent in their money for that one probably thought those mini-subs worked, too. For the record, I owned Sea Monkeys (SOUTH PARK really nailed this one), Vampire Blood (which was the coolest) and a box of 100 soldiers, which left both me and the author flat.

This is a great book to leave around the house, since every page is filled with blasts from the past. The real kicker is the glow-in-the-dark skull that magically appears on the back cover. For those who grew up in 1960s to the 1980s, MAIL-ORDER MYSTERIES is a perfect piece of nostalgia — plus, you don’t have to wait six to eight weeks for delievery. —Bruce Grossman

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More than a decade ago, I had an idea for an article about testing what stupid things I could list on eBay that someone would be dumb enough to buy, i.e. one sock. I never pursued it, but if I had, perhaps much of it would it been purchased or perused by Cary McNeal and Beverly Jenkins, who’ve compiled unusual purchases from the once-great auction site into CRAP I BOUGHT ON EBAY: 101 CRAZY BIZARRE, SERIOUSLY WEIRD, RIDICULOUSLY RAUNCHY ITEMS EXPOSED.

Said items include a business card holder adorned with illustrations of various types of defecated matter, Menudo trading cards (mint), a potato shaped like a frog, a wishbone from 1946, History Channel’s ALL ABOUT DUNG on DVD, a disco-light butt plug, a Valtrex note pad, an Alcoholics Anonymous card game (12 steps, natch), a belt buckle emblazoned with the words “EAT CHEESE OR DIE,” and something called “Angry Vagina Painting.”

You get the picture. All 101 of them, in fact, as the best part of the book is seeing photos of the actual items, because poop-shaped soap and corn dog air fresheners must be seen to be believed.

The authors write about each item, but the only times these bits are worth reading is when they include email exchanges with the sellers, like the guy selling personalized “jizz rags.” Those can be priceless.

This isn’t exactly worth clicking a “Buy It Now!” button, but hey, make an offer. —Rod Lott

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Hope you’re sitting down, but C.W. Moss’ UNICORN BEING A JERK depicts a unicorn being a jerk. The book of cartoons is as simple as that: a unicorn glues his pubic hairs to the floor, a unicorn becomes a pedophile, a unicorn rats out illegal immigrants to the cops. On one side of the spread, Moss gives the reason for said unicorn’s jerkiness; on the other, he shows it in full color.

At the risk of matching the unicorn’s jerkiness, either it’s not funny or I just don’t get it. “Unicorn” could be replaced with “Chuck Norris” or any other annoying Internet meme (redundant) and it still wouldn’t be funny. Would it? —Rod Lott

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It’s too bad I didn’t know Joe Pickett and Nick Prueher were assembling the book VHS: ABSURD, ODD, AND RIDICULOUS RELICS FROM THE VIDEOTAPE ERA, because I totally could have hooked them up with some real gems, including THE ERECAID (don’t ask, don’t Google) and TABLE TENNIS LOOPERS & BLOOPERS. Their loss!

Yeah, right. The book is plenty funny — really funny, in fact — without my would-be meager contributions. It does just what its title promises, with each page boasting a full-color photo of some for-one-reason-or-another horrendous VHS box from the “be kind rewind” age, then dismissed with a curt comment from the authors. This last bit isn’t needed to yield laughs, but look at it as icing — rich, delicious vanilla icing.

In the 260-ish pager, they offer up for the slaughter boxes of very few feature films, instead concentrating on exercise tapes (BUNNETICS), dance tapes (BREAKING WITH THE MIGHTY POPPALOTS), cat videos (YOUR CAT WANTS A MASSAGE!), instructional videos (DARE TO BARE: EROTIC SHAVING AND SEXUAL PLEASURES), sports tapes (INTRODUCTION TO MUZZLE LOADING) and titles so niche, they’re just plain unexplainable (BALLOONS FOR THE RESTAURANT WORKER).

The commentary, so to speak, simply hammers home the ridiculousness of the original covers’ unintentional gags. Most can’t be repeated with the benefit of visuals, but CHINESE YOGA WITH BOB KLEIN features a photo of its mustachioed host as spread-eagled as one can be, and with his hands touching his toes. Observe Pickett and Prueher, “When Bob Klein does this, it means he likes you.”

And I laughed so hard so often, I love it. Consider this an emotional plea for the sequel. —Rod Lott

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The publishing trend of turning websites into hotcakes-selling books continues unabated with three new titles: COLLEGEHUMOR: THE WEBSITE. THE BOOK, FAIL HARDER and WHEN PARENTS TEXT: SO MUCH SAID … SO LITTLE UNDERSTOOD.

I’ve seen some funny things on CollegeHumor.com in the past, but for whatever reason, they’re not in this hefty paperback, which compiles articles from its first decade, as well as some you haven’t seen. Or maybe I’ve just grown up? (Nah.) At any rate, the selections chosen by editor Streeter Seidell do lean toward the “college” half of the site’s equation, with imaginary Facebook pages, beer google jokes and, of course, sexual situations. It’s almost like ANIMAL HOUSE 2.0. The contents are as reader-friendly as the site, overflowing with fun-lookin’ graphics, comics and illustrations; I just believe there are better, funnier examples online.

Failblog.org’s FAIL HARDER is way funnier, because truth is stranger than fiction. A sequel to 2009′s FAIL NATION, the horizontal hardback contains nearly 200 examples of “nice try, but …” photos taken from all across this great nation — you know, “This Are the United States,” as one shot of a map reads. Whether the picture is of Trojan condoms on a “Back to School” endcap or of a Chinese restaurant’s window signs offering “DOG TERIYAKI,” it’s difficult not to enjoy the book’s simple charms. After all, people are stupid.

Finally, I’m surprised that Lauren Kaelin and Sophia Fraioli’s WHEN PARENTS TEXT isn’t better. Because: a) old people are funny just by virtue of being old, and b) old people not understanding technology is even funnier. (My dear, departed grandmother never would rewind a VHS tape, because she feared it would explode.) However, the texts the two have gathered for this paperback are more than . Just because parents typed something nonsensical and/or conversational doesn’t make it funny, or even amusing. Auto-corrects, however — now that’s another story, and luckily, part of the pages. —Rod Lott

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I’m not telling you anything you don’t know when I say the last thing the world needs is another humor book on vampires. Yet here comes V IS FOR VAMPIRE: AN ILLUSTRATED ALPHABET OF THE UNDEAD by Adam-Troy Castro. At least this one has an actual sense of humor.

The perfect size and weight of any Dr. Seuss title on your kids’ shelf, it’s exactly what it sounds like: an ABC book where each letter pertains to some element of the creatures of the night, like G for garlic, or V for Van Helsing. Welcome are the more creative entries, like “J is for Just Some Goddamned Cat” and “Y is for You’ll Never Defeat Me, Mwa-ha-ha.” Each letter bares an accompany illustration by Johnny Atomic (not his real name, one presumes). —Rod Lott

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I think Adam Mansbach’s GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP might have been a viral sensation before the book was even out. Maybe like me, someone emailed you an entire PDF of it. Maybe you weren’t even aware it was an actual printed work. The much-buzzed-about audiobook versions by Samuel L. Jackson and director Werner Herzog certainly have brought it a huge dose of Internet fame.

Oh, and the book? With Mansbach’s rhymes and Ricardo Cortés painted illustrations of a child playing among tranquil scenes of nature, it looks and reads like any other children’s book out there, if not for all the F-bombs.

But that’s exactly what makes it laugh-out-loud hilarious, as Mansbach frustratingly relays his ill-fated attempts on convincing his child to call it a night: “All kids from day car are in dreamland. The froggie has made his last leap. Hell no, you can’t go to the bathroom. You know where you can go? The fuck to sleep.”

I sure can sympathize. Five nights a week, either our 6-year-old son or 11-year-old daughter interrupts or postpone our slumber to let us know they’re hungry or thirsty, or that they their stomach hurts, or even that they can’t sleep. As the one person in the house who has to get up early and go make a living, I want to scream the title of this to them every single time. —Rod Lott

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If you have Internet access, a valid email address, and friends who mass-forward links incessantly, you’ve probably received two things: 1) supposed “proof” of our president being born in another country, and 2) the work of David Thorne. In a perfect world, the work of the former would be just a prank of the latter.

A graphic designer by trade, Thorne is a natural-born prankster — mostly via email. He’s perhaps most famous for the chain of correspondence in which he attempted to pay an overdue chiropractic bill with a drawing of a spider; coincidentally, that scrawl adorns the cover of his first collection of his cyberterrors, THE INTERNET IS A PLAYGROUND: IRREVERENT CORRESPONDENCE OF AN EVIL ONLINE GENIUS.

Inside are several of his other greatest hits, such as the missing cat poster his co-worker asked him to design, much to her eventual chagrin; the party he invites himself to when an annoying new neighbor leaves a notice that he’s having some friends over, so please excuse the noise; the religious tête-à-tête he has with the chaplain at his son’s school; and more than one go-round with his landlords.

I also must mention his adventures on chatroulette.com and his posing as a girl, getting guys to write messages on their bare torsos in lipsticks and photograph it, so (s)he’ll know they’re “legit.”

As someone who’s engaged in this devious behavior for decades (those who know me personally still rave about the “accounting class assignments” and “El Chico donkey penis,” so where’s my book deal, huh?), I find much of it quite hilarious. Not everyone can do this stuff and be clever, ballsy and funny all at the same time, but Thorne is one.

I could do without the brief humor pieces sandwiched in between the pranks, but hell: The book is more than 350 pages. You more than get your money’s worth.

And if you don’t, Thorne will repay you with a spider drawing. —Rod Lott

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At first glance, Ross Horsley’s MY FIRST DICTIONARY could indeed pass for something you’d find on your kindergartener’s bookshelf. Then you notice the alphabet blocks stacked by the character on the cover: They spell “vodka.”

“What the hell?” you might say, and randomly flip open to the “L” section, which kicks off with the word “Last,” teaching young minds its definition by using it in a sentence: “Billy’s horse finished last. Billy’s horse finished after all of the others.” Nothing unusual about that, except that the accompanying illustration is of Mom picking out a cut of meat at the butcher’s counter.

That’s when you know for sure that this ain’t no teaching tool; it’s for tickling your funny bone, perhaps with such force that you’ll lose control of your bladder. Horsley, you card, you.

Designed just like a kiddie primer — blotches of primary colors and all, with illustrations straight from a real-deal version published in the ’70s — MY FIRST DICTIONARY is “A” for “aces” in the humor department, providing your sense of just that is dark like your heart. Flip open to any random page:
• Disown: “Mother has decided to disown Patty. She wants nothing to do with Patty or the black baby.”
• Put: “Put down the knife, Grandma. Lay down the knife.”
• Corn: “Corn is an edible grain. Judy loves corn on the cob. Someday she may even find out what it tastes like.”
• Set, settings: “Grace will set the table. She will put out five settings. Surely Daddy cannot stay away forever.”
• Experience: “Mr. Green’s experience taught him not to sit in the front row of the porn theater.”

Get it? Good. Now go get it. (Oh, the meaning of “get”? “Ray will get strawberries from the garden. He will obtain the strawberries and bring them home. Maybe Father will notice him then.”) —Rod Lott

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Do you remember last year’s IT’S BEGINNING TO LOOK A LOT LIKE ZOMBIES!: A BOOK OF ZOMBIE CHRISTMAS CAROLS by Michael P. Spradlin? He’s back with EVERY ZOMBIE EATS SOMEBODY SOMETIME: A BOOK OF ZOMBIE LOVE SONGS, again illustrated by Jeff Weigel.

Go back and read that review, and that pretty much counts as a review of this one. Except take out the holiday-specific lyrics and replace them with these: “You never chew on eyes anymore when the virus trips,” “They say we’re dead and we don’t know” and “You are tender, you taste sweet.”

Don’t let this one hit the NEW YORK TIMES best-seller list, folks. —Rod Lott

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Aaron Leighton’s SPIRIT CITY TORONTO is an interesting little work. The square book, about as thick as a pencil split in half, presents one to two photographs per spread of the Canadian city’s alleyways, sidewalks and parking lots.

And then Leighton plops in creatures of his own creation into them. The quasi-construction paper monsters — cute and non-threatening, one and all — peer from behind corners, hang from telephone lines, or stand front and center. There are no words; the images say it all.

There’s not much to say about it — either you’ll dig Leighton’s approach (and I do) or you’ll wonder what’s the point. For an art book to adorn your coffee table, you can’t get much hipper. And people will actually flip through it. —Rod Lott

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Who’s Ryan Mecum?
He’s written WEREWOLF HAIKU.
It will make you smile.

First he did the vamps
Then he wrote about zombies
And now the werewolves

And, yes, his haikus
are pretty effing clever —
way better than mine. —Rod Lott

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THE BIG LEBOWSKI is one of my go-to movies. No matter how many times I’ve watched, I’m more than willing to revisit it. So when Adam Bertocci’s TWO GENTLEMEN OF LEBOWSKI arrived, I was a little leery. I’m not a fan of the recent spate of mash-up books where they stick vampires, zombies and whatever monster they can think of into classic titles. But this little number has a premise that fans of the film will love: What if William Shakespeare wrote THE BIG LEBOWSKI in his time?

Let that idea sink in your head: the whole movie in Elizabethan English, written as a play that could have been performed at the Globe. Bertocci had his work cut out for him by messing with such a cult film, but not only did he nail it perfectly, but included some literal laugh-out-loud moments.

The whole movie makes the book — even LOGJAMMIN. What’s even better is if you know the film forward and backward, you can totally see Jeff Bridges and John Goodman rattling off the dialogue. The part that really made me bust out laughing is a sequence dealing with bowling — er, sorry, that would be a “game of bowls.” An excerpt:

The Knave
Hark, now bowls Jack Smoke.

Jack Smoke
Peace, Sir Walter!

Of course, there are name changes since “Dude” was not a term back then, so he becomes “the Knave” — or “Knaverino,” if you’re not into the whole brevity thing.

TWO GENTLEMEN is not just “change the words to fit into the era.” Bertocci has really done his homework, providing detailed annotations while also including engravings and illustrations throughout. Yes, this may be aimed at one finite group of people, but if you’re able to quote whole sequences from the Coen Brothers comedy classic, get yourself a White Russian, settle back on your rug and get ready to laugh. —Bruce Grossman

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Hipsters are as easy to spot as they are to make fun of. The latest work to do just that is STUFF HIPSTERS HATE: A FIELD GUIDE TO THE PASSIONATE OPINIONS OF THE INDIFFERENT by Brenna Ehrlich and Andrea Bartz.

While the title would make one think it’s all about hipster dislikes — sleeping on a real bed; working full-time; using capital letters; hygiene and grooming in general; a copious use of “dude,” “fuck” and “shit” in everyday conversation — it also pegs that which defines them, from fedora and facial hair to hard-ons for day-drinking and flipping through vinyl records.

It’s written like a research paper, complete with case studies, on-the-scene quotes from their subjects, photographs, and charts and graphs. You’ll smirk and snicker as you wade through it, but so dead-on it is as satirizing the urban hipster that it starts to become genuinely depressing.

Seriously! This is what today’s collegians aspire to be? As if dealing with the entitled generation weren’t enough, now we have a group of passive, lazy asses, too?

Ah, well. At least they won’t mind sharing their illegally downloaded MP3s.

It’s not a coincidence that a hipster appears on the cover of DEALBREAKER: THE DEFINITIVE LIST OF DATING OFFENSES by Dave Horwitz and Marisa Pinson, an often-hysterical compendium of turn-offs in the game of love. Their targets get squarely hit in the balls, such as people who bought a Zune, those whose Netflix queue includes THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT, and men whose ears are crammed with a Bluetooth — aka “a douche signal.”

Their wit takes no prisoners and pulls no punches. Witness:
• On guys who wear joke T-shirts: “Thanks for taking me to Dave & Buster’s, who knew butterfly shrimp and skee ball went together so well?”
• On Hummer drivers: “12 MPG city, 17 MPG highway, 0 chance of you seeing my boobs.”
• On pot-smokers who treat 4/20 like a holiday: “No, I didn’t know 7-Eleven sells omelet taquitos.”

Funny stuff. The only bad thing about DEALBREAKER is that’s not Liz Lemon’s best-seller as depicted in TV’s 30 ROCK. Don’t know it? Dealbreaker! —Rod Lott

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Surmises author John Austin, SO NOW YOU’RE A ZOMBIE. In this guide, subtitled A HANDBOOK FOR THE NEWLY UNDEAD, he tells those with a just-recent taste for flesh and brains how to get their lumbering hands on some prime-grade human.

Where to hide for prey? Under the bed’s always good. How to dodge a Molotov cocktail? Easier than you’d think, even with your slowed speed. Can’t extract your next meal from a car? Try the ol’ roof punch.

Obviously one to find filed under “Humor,” this reminded of Max Brooks’ zillion-selling ZOMBIE SURVIVAL GUIDE, only flipped to the other half of the food-chain formula. However, I found this new offering funnier than Brooks’ straight-faced approached, and certainly better-designed, with plenty of amusing illustrations and the ol’ reliable charts and graphs. —Rod Lott

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My days reading SPY magazine taught me a rule of comedy I still utilize: Charts and graphs make things funnier. Stand-up comic Doogie Horner proves the point and then some in his book, EVERYTHING EXPLAINED THROUGH FLOWCHARTS.

As both a glance at the cover and a flip-through of its contents will tell you, the book is exceedingly well-designed. But you have to give it a few minutes’ attention to discover it’s also exceedingly funny.

In the widescreen-format wonder, Horner compares different religions’ beliefs of what happens after you die (actually informative to the clueless and close-minded); details how to win an argument; breaks down the hotness levels of disgraced beauty queens; and tallies the body counts of Hollywood action heroes and horror villains.

I laughed. A lot. The flowchart on “Drinks Only College Students Order” somehow leads to the sub-category of things that are “Found in Hellboy Comics.” As I learned in the “Chain Restaurants” entry, several eateries — Cinnabon, Long John Silver’s and Cold Stone Creamery — will be confused for porno shops by future archaeologists. Under the spread on “Things to Say During Sex,” the half labeled “BAD” branches off into such bon mots as “Can you smell what the Rock is cooking?,” “Gabba gabba hey” and “I’m going to pound the farts out of you.”

If you just laughed, too —> buy. —Rod Lott

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Know who the author of GRAVE HUMOR: A PHOTO TOUR OF FUNNY, IRONIC AND RIDICULOUS TOMBSTONES is? M.T. Coffin.

Get it? Har-de-har.

Luckily, that’s probably the lamest joke in this collection of photographs of amusing or interestingly shaped grave markers. For example, there are poor souls out there whose slabs of rock read “Gone to Walmart,” give a recipe for fudge, or look like a Scrabble board. Others bear unfortunate names, from Harry Back and Hava Heart to Charles Crapsey and Infant Reusing.

This is the kind of stuff that gets forwarded in mass e-mails and/or appears on Jay Leno segments, but at least it’s collected in one place and quite well-designed. —Rod Lott

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Unearthing buried treasures from pulp literature’s yesteryear!

There was a time within living memory when James Bond was new. The first Bond novel, CASINO ROYALE, was published in 1953, and by the time the ninth volume in the series, THUNDERBALL, came out in 1961, the books had made author Ian Fleming a rich man. When President John F. Kennedy, in a LIFE magazine article that year, named FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE as one of his favorite novels, and Fleming sold the film rights to 007, everything was in place for Fleming’s enshrinement in the Pop Literature Hall of Fame.

And, of course, a visit from those Merry Pranksters at THE HARVARD LAMPOON.

Rumor insists that the LAMPOON had published a parody issue of PLAYBOY that contained a mock Bond story called “Toadstool,” but this has never been republished because, except for the occasional misspelling, those snotty college punks plagiarized big chunks of Fleming’s text. They must have thought they were writing a term paper.

But in 1962, they went for the gusto in a big way — or “mucho gusto” as we Texans put it — and the result was ALLIGATOR. If the story weren’t so idiotic, it would be perfect Bond. Or perhaps it’s perfect Bond because it is so idiotic.

Just look at that cover, a right-on spoof of the Signet Books covers of the time. On the back is a list of the previous titles in the series: LIGHTNINGROD; FOR TOMORROW WE LIVE; THE CHIGRO OF THE NARCISSUS; TOADSTOOL; DOCTOR POPOCATAPETL; FROM BERLIN, YOUR OBEDIENT SERVANT; MONSIEUR BUTTERFLY; and SCUBA DO-OR-DIE. Makes you wish they really existed, huh?

The use of asterisks in place of vowels in Bond’s name continues throughout. Moneypenny is Pennyfarthing, Felix Leiter is Felix Ronson, and the Jamaican fisherman Quarrel is Squabble. M is known just as *.

The villain of the piece is Lacernus Alligator, a megalomaniac whose face is a moderate shade of purple. His plot includes kidnapping the House of Parliament — not just the members of Lords and Commons, but the buildings themselves. He also grabs the queen for good measure.

“Looks like the type,” [B*nd said]. “I never trusted short people. Their mothers always tell them about how well Hitler and Napoleon did and they grow up thinking they can do the same.”

Lacernus Alligator is an amalgam of several Bond villains, but mostly he’s Hugo Drax from MOONRAKER. Here’s how * gives his backstory:

“His parents were German immigrants,” * continued, “very poor. Sneaked into the U.S. somehow and then died. Alligator went to work in the New York City sewer system, took his name from the reptiles that apparently live down there. He grew very attached to them and they to him. Found he could do a very good business selling them to zoos, and of course he could sell the baby ones for conversation pieces.” * snorted and lit another match.”

Both men know he must be a rotter for one obvious reason: He cheats at cards. * asks B*nd to challenge the reptilian baddie to a game at the club, then find out what his system is and cheat better. This sets up a wonderful parody of the set piece in CASINO ROYALE, only here the game is a bit different: Alligator plays “Go Fish.” When they meet, “B*nd stared at Alligator in utter amazement. This man was a joke, a hollow parody of the typical paperback thriller’s version of a maniacal archfiend.”

Little did B*nd know at the time that Alligator is a high ranking official in a gang of master criminals, TOOTH, The Organization Organized to Hate.

His female companion is the surprisingly underused Anagram Le Galion.

Most of the jokes are specific to the Bond books. A running gag has B*nd telling every bartender and cook he meets exactly how he wants his consumables prepared, and he’s a brand-name snob down the line, but I got extra smiles when the authors combined a Bondism with snotty college humor: “B*nd settled back and took out his pig iron cigarette case and lighter. He lit one of the special Arabian blends with the six red bands made expressly for him by Barrett’s of Wimpole Street.”

Michael K. Frith and Christopher B. Cerf wrote the book using the I*n Fl*ming pseudonym and they did a great job of burlesquing both Fleming’s style and substance. I remember reading this satire when it first came out and I was 13. (It’s the first book I ever sent off for through the mail.) Yes, I had read several of the Bond novels by then and got most of the jokes.

It’s still more run for Bond readers than Bond moviegoers, and especially for those who enjoy deadpan humor. B*nd is no fool and he’s certainly no Clouseau-style physical buffoon. That approach wouldn’t be in keeping with Fleming.

I guess the book’s been out of print for 45 years or so, but you can find it in e-text form at Munseys. —Doug Bentin

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You can never have enough books on sex, as long as they’re for laughs. Two new ones currently are swordfighting it out on shelves: In one corner, The Association for the Betterment of Sex’s SEX: OUR BODIES, OUR JUNK; in the other, Kristen Schaal and Rich Blomquist’s THE SEXY BOOK OF SEXY SEX.

Both put the “F” back in funny, but in entirely different ways. From a standpoint of design and structure, Schaal and Blomquist’s book takes a MAD magazine approach, whereas the other takes the SPY magazine approach. And as a one-time reader of both, I’ve long sold off my MAD stack, but will never part with my complete collection of SPY, so I’m giving OUR JUNK the edge.

An actress known best for FLIGHT OF THE CONCHORDS, Schaal and real-life boyfriend Blomquist, a DAILY SHOW scribe, tackle the history of fornicating … or at least as they see it, which is not at all accurate, of course. There’s plenty of fun, funny features, too, such as X-rated toys (i.e. Horny Horny Hippos and Pubik’s Cube), complete with snapshots.

The book is all over the place, image-wise, which keeps things lively, as full-color photos and whatnot attempt to rape your eyes with over-the-top images. There’s something at least solidly amusing on each spread (no pun intended), with the exception of the occasional short stories, which I found tiresome. And that’s despite all the hot parts being written in red so you don’t have to do any work.

Meanwhile, The Association for the Betterment of Sex — aka Scott Jacobson, Todd Levin, Jason Roeder, Mike Sacks and Ted Travelstead — present OUR JUNK as if it were an actual sex manual for the uninitiated, covering basic anatomy (such as the clitoris, which “when angry, spits out a red dye that stings”), the laws of attraction, the rules of foreplay (featuring a handy “semen taste challenge” chart), the act of intercourse, self-pleasuring (you may know it by the slang term as “going on tour with Midnight Oil”), kinks, contraception, sexual dysfunction and, finally, the fear of every conservative Christian Republican: the gays (who here, can learn a new sexual role-playing game called “The Open-Faced Reuben”).

With consistent, sharp design that includes orderly tables and minute, quasi-WALL STREET JOURNAL illustrations, OUR JUNK has so many laugh-out-loud lines, that I had difficulty picking just one to present to you as a taste. Out of frustration, I give you one of the chapter-ending “Hey, Didja Know …” facts: “The first marshmallows came from vaginas, and were a by-product of stress?”

Review over. Now I’d like to take this opportunity to see if writing a particular phrase will increase my web traffic: “blumpkin photos.” Thanks. —Rod Lott

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As if New Jersey didn’t have a bad enough reputation already as an instant pop-culture punchline, these yahoos from JERSEY SHORE have doomed the Garden State to be forever associated with society’s weeds.

Guido DiErio and Rick “The Happenstance” Marinara take full advantage of “the situation” — or should we “shit-uation”? — with FIST PUMP: AN IN-YOUR-FACE GUIDE TO GOING GUIDO. It’s like an expansion of DiErio’s rather amusing blog, www.guidofistpump.com, but with more words than your average WWW surfer cares to see.

Separated into chapters on the body, the attitude and the lifestyle, the book tongue-in-cheekily instructs you on how you can become a sleazy, juiced waste of life, too. I had to laugh at the beginning warning that reading might give you “herpes. Sorry, bro.” Everything that follows helps you unleash the beast within, presented in colors as gaudy as, well, its subject.

Lots of photos in this one, of true Guidos, but every Guidette within looks better than Snooki, so I question whether some of them are simply mere sluts. —Rod Lott

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You’d think VAMPIRES DON’T SLEEP ALONE: YOUR GUIDE TO MEETING, DATING AND SEDUCING A VAMPIRE would be a natural humor title, but Elizabeth Barrial and D.H. Altair’s book (with Altair a pseudonym for Del Howison of DARK DELICACIES) isn’t presented as such. I fear some out there might actually, er, bite.

You know the type: They’re the ones who dress up in expensive, elaborate costumes for conventions. They may even believe they have a shot at marrying Robert Pattison. At any rate, the book delivers exactly what it promises, by answering FAQ about the creatures of the night, providing tips on bedding a vamp, and so on.

Barrial and Altair write it pretty straight, especially with sidebars that lean heavily on the factual and practical. It’s only in the chapter titles do that tip their hands that they’re playing it tongue-in-cheek: “The Van Helsing Issue: What to Do When Your Friends Disapprove” and “Shapeshifting: A Form of Foreplay?”

For the delusional among us who treat TWILIGHT as a way of life vs. popcorn entertainment, this would make a good gift. Just don’t expect them to get the gag. —Rod Lott

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I didn’t realize Polly Frost wrote anything other than short stories dealing with needy holes and magical dildos. The erotica author shows a much softer side — although the title could be affixed to her X-rated work — in WITH ONE EYE OPEN, a collection of humor pieces.

These 25 articles were previously published, including such obscure publications as THE NEW YORKER and THE NEW YORK TIMES BOOK REVIEW. Oh, she talks about sex in it, but not much. Instead, you’ll find her thoughts on Facebook and gameaholics and tabloids and paragliding and supporting the arts.

Frost’s wit isn’t savage or hateful, but fairly gentle. In fact, my favorite piece, “Mommyblog Like Me,” is so subtle, I’m not sure that mommy bloggers would realize it’s satirical or that its target is them.

Even with technology being a recurring theme, WITH ONE EYE OPEN is kind of old-fashioned and folksy, as if she were a solid columnist for a metro daily newspaper. Her humor is such that it doesn’t tickle the ribs so much as just ask for a knowing smile. —Rod Lott

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OTHER BOOKGASM REVIEWS OF THIS AUTHOR:
• DEEP INSIDE: EXTREME EROTIC FANTASIES by Polly Frost
• HEAD #14 by Polly Frost

If you read only one DICK AND JANE title in your adult life, make it DICK AND JANE AND VAMPIRES. Even though it’s from Penguin’s Grosset & Dunlap young readers’ imprint, it might creep out little kids. Big people, however, will groove on its strange vibe of humor, and hell, when’s the last time it took you three minutes to read 144 pages?

For this full-color primer, Laura Marchesani sticks to the series’ simple-sentence-only structure, i.e. “Look, Jane. I will get the ball. I will get the red ball.” It even uses original Dick and Jane illustrations from the 1940s and 1950s, but now with 100 percent more vampires, sometimes not even acknowledged by the other characters. The effect is odd and hilarious, not to mention a tad disturbing. Thank you, Ms. Marchesani — we’re all for subverting impressionable young minds. —Rod Lott

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Part of you may have a nagging feeling that you’ve read COLLEGE IN A NUTSKULL: A CRASHED COURSE IN HIGHER EDUCATION before. Odds are you haven’t, but Professor Anders Henriksson’s collection parallels several of those joke chain e-mails your dad forwards to his entire address book.

NUTSKULL collects purportedly true gaffes and goofs from university students’ papers, essays, exams, tests and what-have-you, presented unedited for your amusement. Random examples:
• ”Anal stimulation can lead to obsessive propulsive disorder.”
• “An epic is like a docudrama, but more boring.”
• “James K. Polk invented the polka dot.”
• “Gender is something you have. Sex is something you do.”
• “Supply-side economics is where everybody has lots of supplies.”

Such a fine line exists that it’s sometimes difficult to tell whether the collegians are exhibiting real stupidity or just being smart-asses winging it when they don’t know the answer. Either way, the effect is the same as it would be grading these things: initially amusing, ultimately tiring. ‘Tis best to hit this book in toilet-sized doses to keep it in good graces.

Henriksson, who chairs the history department at Shepherd University, separates the errors by subject — 17.5 of them, including religious studies, art, Medieval history, anthropology and political science. The entire thing is made to look like a notebook, with spiral binding and doodles aplenty. An A for effort, C+ for execution. —Rod Lott

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Right from the start, 51 FIENDISH WAYS TO LEAVE YOUR LOVER seems like a bad idea. First on Lisa Mannetti’s tongue-in-cheek guide to getting even with your not-so-better half? “Shoot yourself at his wedding … right before his bride says, ‘I do,’ scream, ‘I did!’”

Um, ha-ha?

A few pages later, the theme resurfaces: “Pretend to shoot yourself at his wedding, and right before his bride says, ‘I do,’ shoot them both.”

Had a look at this nation’s headlines lately? This isn’t the stuff of comedy.

Other gags — emphasis on “gag” — are made about child molestation, stag-party entertainment (“the fuckpig ho”), abortion and dildos. More than one on that last note, in fact. I know this all isn’t meant to be taken seriously, but it’s simply not funny. There’s not a single laugh or even a smile in it. Example: “Share his mug shot on the web — under the heading ‘Graduation Photo.’” Aw, snap!

Its only redeeming factor are the illustrations by Glenn Chadbourne, whose subjects with scooped-out eyes and blank gazes often look eerily like Michael Jackson. —Rod Lott

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Sports and humor are an interesting mix. Some of the funniest books ever written revolve around sports, like Jim Bouton’s BALL FOUR: THE FINAL PITCH and George Plimpton’s THE BOGEY MAN. Snarky websites like deadspin.com and the much-missed firejoemorgan.com poke barbs at the egos and sensibilities of our lionized athletes.

Sports humor in newspapers is a much rarer breed. In my old hometown paper, I still fondly remember Steve Harvey’s “The Bottom 10,” skewering college football teams, but I’ve seen little of that type of writing since. In the present, Stan Silliman manages to write a weekly sports humor column, which he has compiled into the collection SPORTS FANS ARE CRAZY, charmingly illustrated by Mike Krawczyk.

The essays in this book are short and sweet, and some are quite entertaining. Silliman has a penchant for puns, and unfortunately, tends to hammer the joke home when a more subtle approach might have produced a more lasting effect. Strangely, one of the best aspects of his work are the strange facts he digs up, and he had me using a search engine to see if there really were sports-themed caskets (there are) and just what Krazy George Henderson could do for me (not much, but he’s still a pretty cool guy).

When this type of essay appears in your sports section, it’s the frosting on the cake, but a whole collection of them tends to be a little too much sugar when read cover to cover. Better to stash it alongside your copy of UNCLE JOHN’S BATHROOM READER and let people dip in and read one or two entries at a time. —Mark Rose

Buy it at Comedy Empire Press.

Ann Landers never advised, “Your son is going to learn about cocksucking either at home or behind Arby’s.” (Can’t speak for Dear Abby.) But RENO 911!’s Thomas Lennon sure does, in YOU’RE A HORRIBLE PERSON, BUT I LIKE YOU: THE BELIEVER BOOK OF ADVICE. Edited by Eric Spitznagel, the collection assigns 45 comedians, comedy writers and other funny people to assist American’s populace with its problems.

Even if they aren’t real. From being ashamed to reading James Patterson thrillers and whether it’s okay for a guy to fake virginity, to the appropriateness for white people to celebrate Kwanzaa and tips for catching a ghoul, Sarah Silverman, Judd Apatow, Rainn Wilson, Bob Odenkirk, Patton Oswalt and many others are here to help.

Witness Andy Borowitz’s response to an 8-year-old who wonders why we can’t breathe underwater: “You can’t breathe underwater? Consult your physician immediately. You may be made of sand.” Or Rob Corddry to the guy who can’t decides if he should buy a houseboat: “What are the bad reasons to buy a houseboat? A deep, penetrating sleep cycle? Iconoclastic neighbors? Too much pussy?”

My favorite contributor was Zach Galifianakis, especially his efforts in consoling a recovering drug addict: “I spent some time in rehab for my addiction to homemade Ecstasy — made from Tide with Bleach and some old Altoids. Somersaults in the park while singing any Spin Doctors song are also useful.”

The more you like the performers — Aziz Ansari, Ed Helms, David Cross, Amy Sedaris — the more you’ll like the entries. This is not a book to be read cover to cover, lest you overdose on false counsel. Put it atop the toilet for the most amusing bowel movements you’ll have all month.

But, hey, what the fuck is Martha Plimpton doing here? —Rod Lott

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Remember THE WORST-CASE SCENARIO SURVIVAL HANDBOOK, which was all the rage in the publishing world that was 1999? After sequels, cards, calendars and other products, the brand recently has branched into a series of POCKET GUIDEs — roughly 4.5″ x 3.5″ hardbacks that literally can fit into your pocket.

And why not? As written by series co-creator David Borgenicht and SENSE AND SENSIBILITY AND SEA MONSTERS‘ Ben H. Winters, the guides are good for a quick laugh or a few while on the go, whether that’s via commute or toilet.

One is THE WORST-CASE SCENARIO POCKET GUIDE: MEETINGS. Part of it offers practical advice, while the other part is strictly tongue-in-cheek. For example of the former, you can learn how to revive a co-worker who has fainted or how to flatter an insecure boss; for the latter, escaping a meeting via catering cart. I’m not sure as to which category “How to Discreetly Pass Gas Mid-Meeting” falls.

POCKET GUIDE: CARS is a mix of the same. For instance, parallel parking with a trailer attached is something I failed at miserably the one time I tried to it, so that would be helpful, but how to pee in your car while stuck in traffic? (Um, I’ve done that, and didn’t need any instructions.)

POCKET GUIDE: SAN FRANCISCO isn’t really a travel guidebook, but more of an excuse to lump together items dealing with driving in fog, rescuing whales and escaping from Alcatraz. The more practical books lie with POCKET GUIDE: CATS and POCKET GUIDE: DOGS, making them ideal gifts for owners of felines and canines, particularly the former. (Because let’s face it: Cat pee isn’t an easy odor to remove … which is why I will never own one.)

Each title is small in size, but packed with 100 pages nonetheless. The POCKET GUIDEs carry the visual hallmarks of the original WORST-CASE release and all its various spin-offs ever since: namely, crisp design, line illustrations and a near-NPR sense of inoffensive humor. —Rod Lott

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Another week, another blog-turned-book. In this case, Duncan Birmingham’s PETS WHO WANT TO KILL THEMSELVES. Just like the site, this is full-color photo after full-color photo of dogs and cats dressed in “cute” outfits. True to the title, most have looks on their faces that suggest they’d rather be buried in the backyard.

There’s a powder puff of a cat in a rainbow vest, a dog with “Obama” shaved into its fur, and way too many pooches in Christmas outfits. I’m not a pet person, and even I feel sorry for them. Irony: The people this book most likely appeals to are the ones most likely not to get the joke. A word of warning to anyone who thinks this might be a good gift for the kids: Some of Birmingham’s captions contains salty language. —Rod Lott

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Here’s how you know the zombie trend officially has worn out its welcome: IT’S BEGINNING TO LOOK A LOT LIKE ZOMBIES!: A BOOK OF ZOMBIE CHRISTMAS CAROLS by Michael P. Spradlin. You know what its one joke is, even without me telling you, but I’m going to tell you anyway.

For the slim, illustrated volume, Spradlin rewrites a couple dozen beloved holiday tunes to give them a reanimated flavor — witness utterly predictable opening lines like “Fresh brains roasting on an open fire,” “Here comes Zombie Claus, here comes Zombie Claus” and “I’ll be undead for Christmas.” My fourth grader can do that. Maybe these would be funny as actual songs, performed rather than read. But then again, maybe not. —Rod Lott

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Most travel writing is boring and staid. Not Gary Buslik’s. In his A ROTTEN PERSON TRAVELS THE CARIBBEAN, you may not learn where to get the best deals on a hotel, but you’ll know what to do if you happen to urinate on the foot of a ruthless dictator.

In nearly 20 pieces of creative nonfiction — some reprints of previously published magazine articles — Buslik details his and his credit-card-happy wife’s misadventures south of the American border. Like the time a pirate stole their clothes while they were skinny-dipping. Or when he went to a cockfighting match in Grenada. Or smuggled three cigars out of Cuba. Or saw Ernest Hemingway’s toilet seat. Or, yes, when he peed on Idi Amin. “Accidentally.”

With unflinching self-deprecation and references to horror flicks from THE EXORCIST to ISLAND OF THE DOOMED, Buslik’s real-life vignettes are hilarious. He’s part of that breed of cat who can spiral into depression at “having” to vacation at an island paradise, and his misery makes great company for your prying eyes. —Rod Lott

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A book with a small smattering of Yiddish and photos of babies in various poses, as in the case of Janet Perr’s YIDDISH FOR BABIES, is not what I call a must-read. Especially since the only Yiddish anyone should really know are the words I scream while sitting in traffic.

This is one of those books only idiots will find adorable. You know the type of people I’m talking about: They all live in Florida retirement communities and their cell phones only have one giant button. I felt like a schmuck reading this drivel, and all blame is pointed at the goyim who run this site. Maybe I’m just an alter kocker, but this was not only a waste of paper, but an insult to Jews. —Bruce Grossman

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Apparently, God’s Pottery — aka Gideon Lamb and Jeremiah Smallchild — is a comedy act that was a finalist on NBC’s LAST COMIC STANDING. Well, judging from WHAT WOULD GOD’S POTTERY DO?: THE ULTIMATE GUIDE TO SURVIVING YOUR TEENS AND/OR BEING SUCCESSFUL, they should’ve won, because this book is hilarious.

It’s a savage — and I mean savage — parody of Christian-based self-help books, particularly those aimed at the adolescent. Sex, drugs, pop culture — it’s all covered … and derided as dangerous. After all, one of the guys sports a T-shirt throughout that reads, “VIRGINITY ROCKS!”

The sex chapters were the funniest. It’s hard not to laugh when “vagina” is only printed as “v*gina,” as if it were a bad word; when masturbation is considered a problem only for boys, not to mention referred to as “the bad spurt”; and when one of the successful rules to dating is “stand as close as possible to each other without touching.”

I don’t view it as anti-Christian; I view it more as anti-close-minded. You can still be a believer and believe that this is funny stuff, because it is. —Rod Lott

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Oddly enough, the cover to HOW TO BE INAPPROPRIATE is inappropriate. It makes Daniel Nester’s book look like some crude title full of practical jokes for infantile frat boys and grade schoolers alike to play. In reality, it’s a collection of the humorist’s essays, most of which are astute and sharp.

Now that we’ve scared off the segment of the population who wear their baseball caps backward, may I point you to the finest piece among the book’s couple dozen: “Are You Hot Enough to Play with Journey? Todd Rogers Is,” a profile of an expert video game player who’s way cockier than he should be, even if he did lose his virginity while playing WIZARD OF WOR.

As a huge fan of the documentary THE KING OF KONG, in which Rogers briefly appears, I held great interest in this article, and it did not disappoint. How could it, keying off of the man’s marathon with Atari’s JOURNEY ESCAPE cartridge? He played for 85 hours and 46 minutes straight, before passing out.

Elsewhere, Nester buys a bunch of the penile enhancement pill ExtenZe and has his buddies test it out. It doesn’t really work, although one subject gets an erection while on the treadmill. (Disturbingly, another cops to having his mom measure his member once before.)

Many pieces are more conceptual in nature, with varying success. On the plus side, “Queries” is page after page of questions and comments Nester marked on students’ papers during his time as a professor. Stripped entirely of context, their absurdity is heightened: “Why is it so important he picks the stakes casually?,” “Does the protagonist eat the entire thorax of the little girl?” and “Would a person named Gunter with a German accent really say, ‘You sho nuff weezing an’ hollerin’ now, ain’t ya, mama?’”

On the flip side, Nester takes the transcript of the heated encounter between KISS front man Gene Simmons and NPR personality Terry Gross, and replaces all of Simmons’ dialogue with an imagined robot. Does not compute.

Luckily for Nester — and you, dear reader — missteps are few. This guy is intelligent and funny, and so is his book. —Rod Lott

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Stephenie Meyer’s TWILIGHT is ripe for parody. No, let me rephrase that: It deserves to be parodied, with no mercy shown. But I’m afraid that beyond the cover design, NIGHTLIGHT isn’t it.

It comes from those fellows over at THE HARVARD LAMPOON. Their alums write awfully funny TV shows, but the yuks don’t translate to novels. One of the first books I ever bought was their J.R.R. Tolkien parody, BORED OF THE RINGS. Like this, it was better in theory than in execution.

There’s a strange stylistic choice at the start of NIGHTLIGHT that I never got over: While emo vampire Edward is rechristened with the “funny” name of Edwart, his romantic partner Bella becomes just Belle. MAD magazine would never let that slip by.

Part of NIGHTLIGHT’s real trouble is that it hews perhaps too closely to Meyer’s simple sentences. It feels like it could have been written by her, but unfortunately, that goes for its sense of humor, too. Attempts at jokes are leaden. For instance, Belle performs a Google search of the word “vampire” and the results spit back “Kristen Stewart’s Onset Romance” and “Robert Pattison Excellent Blues Singer.”

Laughing yet?

NIGHTLIGHT won’t take you but maybe an hour to read, but it’s an hour better spent elsewhere. —Rod Lott

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Even if you loathe the genre like I do and avoid such stations as if you could contract H1N1 through the airwaves, you’re bound to get a kick out of Aye Jay’s COUNTRY MUSIC FUN TIME ACTIVITY BOOK. After all, how many words can you make out of Kris Kristofferson?

While some of the book contains actual, workable, straightforward puzzles and games, much of it is parodic, with challenges like “Draw Billy Ray Cyrus’s Mullet” and “Finish Drawing Dolly Parton’s Body.” There’s even a maze titled “Help Brooks Find Dunn!”

One also must connect the dots to form Lyle Lovett’s hair; apply the MAD LIBS formula to the lyrics of Hank Williams’ “Move It on Over”; and color Toby Keith, but using “red, white and blue crayons only!” Funny stuff, for the two minutes it’ll take you to read before passing on to your child to deface at will. —Rod Lott

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After spending a year reading a set of encyclopedias, and then another living biblically, what does A.J. Jacobs do for an encore? Well, for the most part, repackage a bunch of his ESQUIRE articles into THE GUINEA PIG DIARIES: MY LIFE AS AN EXPERIMENT.

That’s not to say the collection is bad, but if you’ve already read several of the nine “stunt articles” here, you may feel shortchanged. In these journalistic adventures, Jacobs poses as his hot nanny online to find her a boyfriend worthy of her; outsources his everyday duties (including communication with his wife) to an assistant in India with an imperfect grasp on the English language; and adheres strictly to the “Radical Honesty” movement, in which you say exactly what you mean.

He strips down to pose naked for ESQUIRE at Mary-Louise Parker’s urging; spends some time living life according to George Washington’s rules; trades multitasking for unitasking; and pays back his long-suffering wife for putting up with all of the above by acting as her personal slave.

All of these make for amusing reading, save for one titled “The Rationality Project,” in which Jacobs aims to become the most logical man alive; ironically, it lacks focus. But the rest are funny showcases— sometimes laugh-out-loud so — of his self-deprecating humor, i.e. “I haven’t logged a lot of hours at Bally Total Fitness. And it shows. My chest has an indentation where you could store a half cup of flour.” —Rod Lott

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“So a few days later, I find myself in a cab on the way to the studio with the magazine’s design director, who keeps assuring me that there will be nothing edible on my solar plexus and no Mapplethorpian whips in my orifices.”

OTHER BOOKGASM REVIEWS OF THIS AUTHOR:
• THE YEAR OF LIVING BIBLICALLY: ONE MAN’S HUMBLE QUEST TO FOLLOW THE BIBLE AS LITERALLY AS POSSIBLE by A.J. Jacobs

If there’s ever a blog that truly deserves getting the print treatment, it’s PeopleofWalmart.com. But that hasn’t happened yet.

Good news, though: Second on my list would be Failblog.org, and it’s made that jump from pixels to pages with FAIL NATION: A VISUAL ROMP THROUGH THE WORLD OF EPIC FAILS, by Sonya Vatomsky and Ben Huh. While I’m as tired as you hearing people use “fail” as a noun — both on the Internet and in real life — there’s something inherently funny about the photos that prompt such usage.

So what passes for an epic fail? A kitty cat in a cage affixed with a sign that says you can “adopt this dog.” A cheap motel marquee offering “FREE CUNT BREAKFAST.” A steep stairwell marked as an entrance for the handicapped. A furnace with the brand “Penis Safe.” A grocery store tub of hummus marked “Garlicky Homos.” A talent scout’s application that asks, “Do you have any experience raping?”

The fun goes on and on, with nearly 200 photographic examples. Rather than just throw some photos together and collect their check, Vatomsky and Huh try to wrap a narrative theme around them, as if the book were a promo piece for tourists visiting Fail Nation. Yeah, that’s flimsy, but it works just enough to group these things in neat, easy categories.

You won’t laugh at every page, but you will laugh. —Rod Lott

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Behold the power of Twitter! The ever-popular microblogging site is great for finding out when celebrities die and learning what people had for lunch. But what it does best is add levity to your day with people’s amusing thoughts and links. Short of being on Twitter itself — and you can find us at @bookgasm — the best way to experience the fun is through David Pogue’s book THE WORLD ACCORDING TO TWITTER.

Well, it’s kind of Pogue’s book. He came up with the questions and challenges, posted them to his Twitter account, and let his followers provide the answers and responses that comprise the collection. Whether you’ve been on the site or not, the results are sure to make you smile.

It’s the kind of humor title that can be read by opening to any page. Some examples:
• For “Make up a new Internet rumor that sounds just real enough to catch on,” @EShahan wrote, “Increase in home robberies attributed to Google Map street views.”
• For “Write a brilliantly gripping first line of a new novel,” @pumpkinshirt wrote, “Chelsea St. Dean was the kind of cop who gave 100%, leaving no room for romance. Fortunately, Dirk Xander always gave 110%.”
• For “Describe your Most. Embarrassing. Moment. Ever,” @ctrly wrote, “Sent letter to our biggest client, included heading: ‘Your account’ (secretary left out the O). Tricky meeting followed.”

That kind of jump-around approach makes THE WORLD ACCORDING TO TWITTER terrific for toilet reading, whether Pogue is asking his virtual friends about the best bumper sticker they ever saw, having them caption a photo, or challenging them to compose a haiku. Since Twitter only allows for entries of 140 characters or less, one really has to boil down a thought to its very essence, which is why many of the jokes work. They hit their target because they are precise and unfussy. —Rod Lott

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It’s only seeing my co-workers’ reactions to LOLcats that I — perhaps the biggest non-cat person on the planet — get what all the fuzz is about. I still don’t want the real deal in my house, but if these LOLcat books keep getting made, I’ll certainly read each and every page without viewing it as a job.

HOW TO TAKE OVER TEH WURLD: A LOLCAT GUIDE 2 WINNING is the second book to come out of the überpopular website icanhascheezburger.com, and once again, its authorship is credited to one Professor Happycat. (Hmmm, maybe it’s just me, but I smell a nom de plume …)

For, those unfamiliar with the Internet phenomenon, here’s a crash course: A LOLcat is a photo of a cat with a funny (at least in theory), lowercase phrase superimposed. That phrase purposely misuses verbs and misspells most words. The very things that make them what they are used to bug the hell out of the editor in me; now they just irk me a little. I’m not fully won over by their charms, but hey, I’ve made progress.

From the same web family comes GRAPH OUT LOUD, an extension of graphjam.com, which graphs phrases from popular songs and movies. ¿No comprende? Well, imagine if the times the words “yes,” “no,” “goodbye” and “hello” were uttered in The Beatles’ “Hello Goodbye” were charted in a handy bar graph.

Or, hell, don’t imagine at all; it’s right there on 40. Eight times out of 10, the results are rather clever. The other two times, either it’s a stretch or the concept goes over my head. (And for the last instance, there’s a handy index in the back that at least gives its origin.) One thing’s consistent: Ben Gibson’s designs for all are extremely awesome. —Rod Lott

Buy them at Amazon.

OTHER BOOKGASM REVIEWS OF PROFESSOR HAPPYCAT:
• I CAN HAS CHEEZBURGER? A LOLCAT COLLECKSHUN by Professor Happycat

Jeff Martin is not famous. But that need not stop him from writing his autobiography — albeit an entirely made-up one — in MY DOG ATE MY NOBEL PRIZE: THE FABRICATED MEMOIRS OF JEFF MARTIN. In it, the Tulsa-based writer (and recent editor of THE CUSTOMER IS ALWAYS WRONG anthology) recounts a 30-year life fantastic … and fake.

His journey is quasi-Forrest Gump-ian, with Martin appearing at key events in history, such as Ronald Reagan’s inauguration or the museum theft of Edvard Munch’s THE SCREAM. He’s responsible for Disney releasing THE BLACK CAULDRON, for M*A*S*H‘s finale being a monster ratings hit, for Sinead O’Connor’s ripping up the Pope’s photo on SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE. He also gets to have sex with Scarlett Johansson.

Martin’s work is more “amusing” than “funny.” In other words, it won’t have you laughing out loud, or even on the inside, but it’s all too easy to read, with each page containing just a few sentences for each momentous date. Besides, it’s hard to top the cover quote from James Frey, who writes (presuming it’s really him), “Jeff Martin is a first-class liar. Even better than me.” —Rod Lott

Buy it at Amazon.

OTHER BOOKGASM REVIEWS OF THIS AUTHOR:
• THE CUSTOMER IS ALWAYS WRONG: THE RETAIL CHRONICLES edited by Jeff Martin

A McSweeney’s piece is turned into one big book in Sarah Schmelling’s OPHELIA JOINED THE GROUP MAIDENS WHO DON’T FLOAT: CLASSIC LIT SIGNS ON TO FACEBOOK. It’s a rather deft parody of the Internet’s current social-media powerhouse, as well as works of great literature.

The idea plays upon the anachronistic, “what if?” idea of those now-dead authors joining Facebook. How would their profiles read? What games would they play? What would they say on their status updates? And dear God, what would they “throw” at one another?

The more you’re acquainted with the authors and their classic titles, the funnier the chapters. Each is structured exactly like someone’s Facebook page would be. For instance, Edgar Allan Poe’s relationship status is listed as “Incessant Woe,” and he receives a LOLcat that reads “iz in ur wall (wit ur ded wife).”

Franz Kafka’s THE METAMORPHOSIS is one of the best, with man-cum-bug protagonist Gregor Samsa receiving an “Involuntary Profile Change” and becoming a fan of Garbage. Ditto for Dr. Frankenstein, Holden Caulfield, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

And, yes, many of them play Scrabulific. —Rod Lott

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I think someone’s trying to pull a fast one over on me. THE CATERER #3 purports to be a reprint of an ahead-of-its-time comic book from the ’70s, except that it feels too ahead of its time, know what I mean? Jeff Lint is credited as its creator, supposedly a cult sci-fi author, albeit one who doesn’t show up on the excellent Fantastic Fiction database. So I’m officially calling BS on it.

That said, whether it’s the hoax I strongly suspect it to be, it’s still absolutely hilarious — a silly, subversive work and Pop Art parody. It doesn’t make a lick of sense, but nor does it need to, as being one long non-sequitur is all it aims to achieve. Somehow, it surpasses even that.

The title refers to our “hero,” a college student named Jack Marsden, aka The Caterer, even though we never see him catering anything, unless someone ordered a knuckle sandwich. He rants and raves, visits a graveyard, eludes a sheriff, hallucinates about goats, captures some hens, battles a bear, crashes a car, attracts gunfire and becomes — in his mind, at least — the scourge of the vampire classes, all within 26 pages under the story title of “Dial I for Inconvenience.”

Lint — whoever he is — has nothing if not crack comic timing. The sheriff wonders what The Caterer is doing now, and the very next panel is void of words, showing a smilin’ Jack present a coiled snake in the palm of his hand to an attractive young lady.

Jack’s dialogue is so weird, so off that a red flag was immediately raised. On page 1, he’s ordering a coffee pot in the shape of a severed head. Hell, that’s just the first panel. Consider these later lines: “Udders ain’t so bad, professor. You should try ‘em sometime, if your friends will let you. Know the fun. Know the fun. Know the fun,” or “Pete! I’d like you to meet Carol. She’s my hostage for Christmas.”

He’s not the only one who gets off good lines. Quoth blonde babe Kate, “Christ! Sheriff, did you kick me in the face? I feel terrible.” Or said sheriff: “Sit down young lady, and begin your education. We’ll learn about corn fries today.” Even the comic’s narrator, who writes during an intense scene of action in which many bullets are exchanged, “Nothing of interest occurs for the next hour.”

With a pull-out poster, a cover template ripped off from the Marvel era, and (fake) ads touting chintzy toys and T-shirts, THE CATERER certainly did its homework in appearing to be an actual comic from the ’70s. But — y’know — one that actually makes you laugh out loud. I don’t even think HOWARD THE DUCK could do that today. —Rod Lott

Buy it at Floating World Comics.

In her debut graphic novel, BINKY THE SPACE CAT, children’s author Ashley Spires tells the four-color tale of a football-shaped kitty who dreams of going to outer space, despite having never left the confines of his human owners’ house.

As the book begins, Binky receives his space-cat certification in the mail, and visions of intergalactic adventures dance in his head. But how to get out into the far reaches of the galaxy? And, more importantly, how to save his humans from an alien threat?

That alien threat is an influx of bugs in the home. Binky eats as many as he can, even though some give him gas (thus providing a sure-fire laugh-getter of a panel for kids in which Binky lets loose a “poot”). He trains for space missions via a flight simulator (i.e. the ceiling fan) and zero-gravity chamber (i.e. the washer).

It’s a cute work that adults won’t mind reading to their younger children, and those kids who are newly independent readers will find a fun, amusing story that tweaks their imagination without taxing it. I’m a bit put off by the computer-generated font instead of hand-drawn letters, but the little ones aren’t going to notice or care. —Rod Lott

Buy it at Amazon.

With SKIN DEEP, Fantagraphics has reprinted Charles Burns’ weird, wonderful, three-tale anthology first published in book form in 1992. It’s no BLACK HOLE — how could it be? — but if you’re into him, you’re already into this.

It opens with “Dog Days,” which was the first Burns story I ever read. At first, it appears to be about two creepy boys spending the night in a fort they’ve built the backyard, but is actually about something strange they encounter: a guy who acts like a dog, meaning he digs in the dirt, barks and licks bones.

He got that way because he needed a new heart, but couldn’t afford a human one. So he opted for the much cheaper canine ticker, and now he pays for it with a severely hampered social life. Seems people don’t cotton to men who chase cats and sniff butts.

This segues into “Burn Again,” the longest and best story of the bunch. (While all three stories stand alone, the end of one loosely flows into the start of the next.) Here, Burns skewers religious nutjobs with everything he’s got, as dope addict Bliss Blister is presented as some sort of miraculous healer, due to the burn on his chest that looks like the face of Jesus. He’s not, but money talks, and he builds a temple he calls the gateway to heaven, declares the exact date the world will end, and sells tickets to his new digs.

Finally, “A Marriage Made in Hell” showcases our writer/artist at his most deviously perverse, with a parody of a melodramatic romance confessional containing one heck of a twist. I can’t spoil it, but let’s just say there’s a mighty good reason its newlywed couple isn’t destined to live happily ever after.

Needless to say, I love the streak of darkness that permeates Burns’ work. I mean that both figuratively and literally, as his one-of-a-kind illustration style is at-a-glance recognizable because of his heavy use of black ink. There are no grays in his panels — either something’s black or it’s white. That starkness emphasizes the cruel features on the faces of his characters — deep wrinkles, harsh teeth, beady eyes and unflattering noses, to say nothing of the occasional freak.

Like the look of his characters, Burns is one of a kind, and SKIN DEEP is a good introduction to the man’s singular vision — a good way to get your toe wet before diving in. —Rod Lott

Buy it at Amazon.

OTHER BOOKGASM REVIEWS OF THIS AUTHOR:
• BLACK HOLE by Charles Burns

I knew that reading those classic novels in high school and college would pay off someday. Because I was able to get most of the jokes in R. Sikoryak’s MASTERPIECE COMICS collection. Although it’s not the New York-based artist’s only gig, he’s made a name for himself marrying modern-day cartoon characters to the plots of literature’s most famous works, and the result is brilliant, brainy parody.

Having read several here and there over the years, I was pleased to see them all collected in a sturdy, handsome hardback from Drawn and Quarterly. One need not have a degree in English Lit to enjoy the contents, but those with no familiarity with the books being spoofed will be unable to grant it the deep appreciation it deserves.

“Blondie” is the first target, with Dagwood Bumstead and his lovely wife recast as Adam and Eve, with Mr. Dithers playing God, in “Blond Eve.” In the book’s first true stroke of genius, the bubble-gum groaners of Bazooka Joe are reimagined into an eight-strip journey into Dante’s INFERNO.

Hell comes to Garfield, too, in “Mephistofield,” with Jim Davis’ fat cat sprouting horns and a master who studies black magic. Old fuddy duddy Mary Worth becomes “Mac Worth” in a soap-opera version of Shakespeare’s MACBETH, and Ziggy gets the Voltaire treatment in a greeting-card-ready tour of sins titled “Candiggy.”

“The Crypt of Brontë” is unearthed next, with WUTHERING HEIGHTS turned into a dead-on EC horror tale in two parts. Little Lulu becomes Hester Prynne in the most adorable adaptation of THE SCARLET LETTER ever, while Batman is the guilty party of CRIME AND PUNISHMENT, here turned into an issue of DOSTOYEVSKY COMICS. This story is perhaps the book’s masterstroke, with near-equals to follow when Charlie Brown becomes METAMORPHOSIS‘ Gregor Samsa (“Happiness is a pest-free home,” thinks Snoopy), and Superman is portrayed as THE STRANGER in a series of ACTION CAMUS covers.

No matter what the work being parodied — and on either side, book or comic — Sikoryak hits the bull’s-eye. It’s absolutely amazing how he’s able to ape each property. Not only does any given story capture its overall look and style, but the characters are dead ringers, and even the lettering is pitch-perfect. He has the fine points of parody down to an exact science.

So that’s how they look. Bonus: They read as funny as they are smart. I can imagine only the stuffiest of literature professors not finding this savage dressing-down of the classics at least amusing. Whether you love the big books or despised them, you’re apt to glean pleasure from Sikoryak’s tastefully twisted takes. —Rod Lott

Buy it at Amazon.

BONE creator Jeff Smith aims for the funny bones of really young readers with Toon Books’ latest comic for kids, LITTLE MOUSE GETS READY. The title pretty much says it all: Invited by his mother to go with her to the barn, Little Mouse struggles to get ready, buttoning buttons and figuring out which way his underwear goes.

There’s a punchline to it that makes my 4-year-old laugh aloud every darn time — followed by a demand I read “that part” again — so one can say Smith certainly hits his target. His illustrations are cute and charming as ever. —Rod Lott

Buy it at Amazon.

Another website becomes a book in Pamela Redmond Satran’s HOW NOT TO ACT OLD: 185 WAYS TO PASS FOR PHAT, SICK, HOT, DOPE, AWESOME, OR AT LEAST NOT TOTALLY LAME. It does just what it says, with advice dished on everything from Facebooking to pop-culture references that instantly date you.

Whether these tips are to be considered purely practical or taken with grain a salt, I’m unsure, because Satran writes with admirable wit. Each topic is handled quickly, sometimes with a fun list as accompaniment. If you don’t know that SEO stands for “Search Engine Optimization,” you’re exactly the target this work seeks.

The editor in me disagrees with her assertion that e-mails shouldn’t be written with proper capitalization and punctuation. Nor do I see why bringing donuts to share with co-workers makes you old; in mine, it makes you a friggin’ hero! But the one directed at women telling them not to save sex for the weekend — now there’s a piece of advice I could get behind. And on top. And … —Rod Lott

Buy it at Amazon.

In Monsterville, every day is Opposite Day. Kids are encouraged to disobey their parents, run away from home, play in the street, and throw bricks through the neighbors’ windows. But there’s one child who instead dares to act like an angel, even though his cheery disposition and curious nature get him into a different kind of trouble, all chronicled in MELVIN MONSTER, VOLUME 1: THE JOHN STANLEY LIBRARY.

This delightful collection from Drawn and Quarterly is comprised of the first three issues of Dell’s MELVIN MONSTER title from 1965, written and illustrated by the late, great Stanley. Today, his work is mostly forgotten beyond a core group of devotees, but hopefully, this book — and other planned volumes in D&Q’s series — will give that narrow audience the Opposite Day treatment.

True to his name, Melvin is green-skinned, like every good Frankenstein creation should be. He has a half-moon mouth and pointy hair, and lives in a massive, multistory haunted house with his “Mummy” and “Baddy,” as well as a pet alligator named Cleopatra. Some pet — the reptile is always attempting to hide somewhere inconspicuous, in hopes that Melvin will stumble into its hungry, open jaws.

In the misadventures on display here, often told in a style that feels freewheeling and even improvisational, he attempts to go to school, despite the efforts of the witchy teacher to boil him; gains a guardian demon; ends up in a cage as a living trophy to a rich guy; encounters untold terrors in the cellar; becomes the temporary property of monster hunters; and accidentally falls into more mischief than most “human beans” his age.

Other than this year’s Free Comic Book Day offering from D&Q, Stanley’s work has come across my mitts in woefully short supply. That’s too bad, but there’s nothing like the joy of catching up, and Stanley is one who deserves it. Put simply, these are kids’ comics at their peak: simple, but not stupid; innocent, yet not insipid; creative, without having to convince you of its cleverness; and, above all, timeless. Get one for your children … and one just for you.

As good as Stanley was at visual gags and imaginative plots that sometimes veered toward the surreal (and one wished this volume didn’t lack an introductory essay to clue readers in on his story), the success of the book isn’t completely due to him. D&Q has assembled MELVIN MONSTER into one handsome package, with covers, endpapers and assorted pages provided by renowned indie-comics giant Seth. Transitionary pages show Melvin in near-black shades against a completely black background, but with the whites of his eyes popping in stark contrast.

Yours may do the same. —Rod Lott

Buy it at Amazon.

I’m not sure what I expected in reading THE ENTHUSIAST by Charlie Haas, but I expected more than I got. Haas’ novel has had heaps of praise, including a total rave in REASON magazine and other trusted sources, and its subject matter is something I hold near and dear: enthusiast or hobby magazines.

The protagonist, Henry Bay, is an associate editor who flits to and from small niche publications devoted to specialized pursuits like a fly on a window pane, from KITE BUGGY magazine to CROCHET LIFE to ICE CLIMBING and to tons of other publications that are supported by a small knot of avid readers. Haas definitely gets this culture and explains the appeal of it to Henry in a marvelous paragraph, of which this book is filled:

“On the plus side, being in the enthusiasm business let me see people being happy, doing what their bumper stickers said they’d rather be doing, what they braked for. For a long time I was able to coast in the wake of that happiness. Winning the prize for biggest geode or scariest wipeout changed their faces, and I was there, writing down the shop talk of the work that’s not for money. It was a country of fevers, and I only had to deal with the harmless ones.”

That’s a beautiful paragraph, beautifully written. And the writing quality here is high. This is Haas’ debut novel, but he is a successful screenwriter, having penned MATINEE, GREMLINS 2: THE NEW BATCH and OVER THE EDGE. He knows pacing and he knows character. But this wryly comic novel — more wry than comic — is a little underwhelming in the story it has to tell. It’s because Henry is so satisfied with the banality of his life, that his dynamism is understated.

Perhaps that is the point. Subtlety is a lost art, and if Haas is anything, his writing is subtle. In an afterword, he lists some of his influences as Charles Portis, Walker Percy, Julie Hecht and Nicholson Baker. I can see the Baker in his work — minus Baker’s micro-observations — and I think that Henry’s eventual fulfillment tracks along with some of Baker’s character work, a slow realization that one has achieved fulfillment, although it is not what the character or others thought it would be.

Maybe I wanted more for Henry, but he got exactly what he wanted in the end. This is a lovely work that should stay in your head for some time — not perfect by any means, but certainly worth the time it takes to read and reflect on its messages. —Mark Rose

Buy it at Amazon.