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Humor Collection


I’d Bark But You Never Listen
An Illustrated Guide to the Jewish Dog

Written and illustrated by Harold Kimmel

Hardcover $11.99
Only $7.99 here

From a top Hollywood humor writer, comes this edgy collection of illustrated jokes revealing the innermost thoughts of independent-minded dogs. What marks the breed is not necessarily a Jewish owner, but a quirky mindset—given both to philosophical debate and picky pragmatism, not to mention personal pride: "I’d fetch but it’s embarrassing."

The Jewish greyhound, foxhound, poodle or chosen mutt always has an excellent and very funny reason for leading his or her distinguished version of a dog’s life. This book comes with endorsements from notable comedians and their pets

Obedience

A dog goes to obedience school. A jewish dog goes to The Milton and Fern Krumholtz building at the Norman and Becky Guttstein Campus of The Lenny and Shirley Zugman Educational Center. In loving memory of Pearl Schwartz. An Inspiration to us all.
Lasser Blurb Lazebnik Blurb
Stone

A Jewish dog will always bury the bone the next day. The stone goes up within a year.


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Outrageous Ads

By Kate Parker

Hardcover $14.99
Only $9.99 here

This hilarious treasury celebrates an age of innocence (or idiocy) when advertisers could tell us any old thing. These ads present the possibly true but strangely presented: a gal combing her sleeping guy’s trousers in search of war-bond dollars, a wife in love with cutlery. Unhealthy claims include soda pop promoted as a baby drink, and bone-crushing corsets urged for little girls. Among other dubious propositions are the chin-reducing head cage and “bile beans” as the key to physical fitness. Outrageous Ads reminds us not to believe everything we’re sold.

From Outrageous Ads:

knives ad

sunlamp ad

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Wisdom & Wack for the Graduate

Compiled by Kate Barth
Illustrations by Neil Shapiro

Hardcover, $14.95
Only $7.99 here

FINALIST FOR FOREWORD MAGAZINE’S BEST HUMOR BOOK OF 2007

Each commencement season has its pearls of wit and weirdness. Here, in handy hard-cover form, are true gems of guidance for the new graduate.

Neil Shapiro’s brilliant and hilarious illustrations guarantee that the new high school or college grad will absolutely take notice—and thank the book giver for this wickedly, wonderful gift.

From Wisdom & Wack:


"Wear comfortable shoes. You never know when you may have to run for your life."
—Callie Khouri
Scriptwriter, Thelma & Louise
Sweet Briar College, May 22, 1994
"There's no guarantee you will ever again spend each day surrounded by so many intelligent people."
—Samuel L. Jackson
Actor
Vassar College, May 23, 2004


"Everyone has a weird roommate. If you don't have a weird roommate, then you're the weird roommate."
—Conan O'Brien
T.V. Talk Show Host
Stuyvesant High School, June 26, 2006

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SLOTH: Ode to Disarray & Delay

by Dale Burg

Hardcover $21.95
Only $14.99 here 

"If God had intended me to bend over, He'd have put diamonds on the floor" - Joan Rivers

Humor writer Dale Burg's narrative is great fun. Spinning off the Chaos Theory of universal evolution, she "scientifically proves" that we're meant to relax and let life take its course. Includes such goodies as The Sloth Style Guide, illustrated by the little-known Picasso costume-series watercolors.

SLOTH: Ode to Disarray & Delay will reform absolutely no one, save those capable of having a good laugh at the rat race. It's the perfect present for overachievers who secretly yearn to relax.

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GLUTTONY: More is More

By Nan Lyons

Hardcover $21.95
Only $14.99 here

From the author of the best-selling Who is Killing the Great Chefs of Europe, comes this high-spirited tour de force of food history and dining extravagance, accompanied by glorious dining art from the world over.

Table of Contents

Ch. 1: Separation of Church and Fate
Ch. 2: Fabulous Feasts
Ch. 3: Haute Bloat
Ch. 4: Bacchus to the Future
Ch. 5: Custard's Last Stand
Ch. 6: Food Fetishes from Rome to Nome
Ch. 7: A Quiche in the Dark
Ch. 8: Cinema Gastronomique
Ch. 9: Toques Off to Dreamers


Excerpts from GLUTTONY:





"The prospect of an irresistible dessert made it possible to eat the meat that had been hanging around the larder long enough to apply for Social Security."



"The voluptuous quality of chocolate, with its satiny, melt in the mouth enticement, might be the closest thing to making love that a lonelyheart has on a cold winter's night. Now, doesn't that make those calories worth it?"


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Never Kiss a Frog
A Girl's Guide to Creatures from the Dating Swamp

By Marilyn Anderson

Paperback $14
Only $8.99 here

Single women can’t afford to believe in fairy tales. Frogs don’t turn into princes—men don’t change—no matter how tenderly they’re handled. Some are adept at hiding their reptilian views while others seem oblivious to their inner slime. Even an astute, Sex-and-The-City type of gal can be fooled. That’s why every lady hoping for a princely mate needs Never Kiss a Frog.

Marilyn Anderson’s zippy, illustrated guide reveals frogs and toads in their many guises. The author hilariously plumbs the romantic misadventures of herself and her friends for the early (but overlooked) signs that a plausible Mr. Right is Mr. Wrong. Armed with Never Kiss a Frog, a gal can tell who should be tossed back into the pond and who might be a keeper.

Ms. Anderson, who has written for several TV sitcoms, including Murphy Brown and FAME, has also been a stand-up comedienne at New York clubs. She lives in Los Angeles.

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        Meet . . . .
        

Count Frogula


Any guy who drains the life out of you--sucks.

        



        Meet . . . .
        

The Godfrogger


It was a hot steamy night. I had this noisy air conditioner that was blowin' heat. And my landlord wouldn't fix it. But I had to get some Zs.

        It was a losing battle. I was tossing and turning like flapjacks in an earthquake. So I figured, what the heck? I got up and put on this cute little black number. Then I headed over to Guido's, a cool Italian place with a hot piano bar.

        I sauntered up to the bar to get a martini. Then I spotted him: the guy at the microphone. He was singing "Strangers in the Night." He sounded like Sinatra and looked like Antonio Banderas. (The Italian Antonio Banderas.) And he was staring straight at me. Burning his big brown peepers into my soul. Boom! I'm smitten. "Tony" is for me!

        So I'm trying to be cool, chewing on my olive. But I stab my lip with the toothpick. I scream and drop my purse, spilling the contents. I bend down to scoop up my stuff. But by the time I cram everything back inside the purse, and climb back on my perch, the song is over. Tony is gone. My heart falls.

        Suddenly, there's a tap on my shoulder. I turn around. Tony is standing right there at my side--with a cocktail napkin. He blots a drop of blood from my lip.

        "Should I kiss it and make it better?" He smiles.

        "Maybe later," I answer.

        Then I compliment him: "I like your pipes."

        "I like your gams."

        "I like your suit."

        "I like your hair."

        "I like your-"

        He interrupts. "So whattaya say we have dinner?"

        "I thought you'd never ask."

        We get a table. I order chicken cacciatore. He orders broken leg of lamb. That should've been my first clue. But I'm too gaga to notice.

        


        He takes my hand. It's not raining, but I hear thunder and see lightning. As it flashes, I imagine a big Italian Wedding. The band is playing our song. Hundreds of guests surround us. They fill my wedding purse with checks and cash. Suddenly, I hear a clink and I'm back to Guido's.

        Tony is toasting me with a glass of Chianti: "To us!"

        He tells me, "Singing's just a hobby. I'm a businessman--in construction. Cement."

        That should've been my second clue. But right now, the only thing I'm trying to solve is the problem with my heart. It's beating a hundred times a minute. (My brain cells aren't functioning at all.)

        We make small talk over dinner. I tell him about the difficulty I'm having with my landlord.

        He squeezes my hand comfortingly. "If you want, I'll pay him a visit and break his kneecaps."

        I laugh, thinking it's a joke. Then, seeing the seriousness in his deep, dark eyes, I ask, "You wouldn't really do that?"

        "Nah, of course not," he says. "Not me--I'll have one of my boys do it." He points to a bruiser at the bar. "Bruno's broken more noses than Mohammed Ali. Ba-da-bing, ba-da-boom!"

        Holy olive oil, I think to myself, he's serious. This is an offer I can refuse. I shake my head, "That's okay. I'm moving next week, anyway."

        I finish my dinner at triple speed. Then I tell him it's been a blast meeting him. But I'm going out of town. On a cruise. With my great aunt. Around the world. For three years.

        I give him a peck on the cheek, and leave. You see, even though I love movies about the mob, I don't want to be married to it.

        That night I have a dream. Tony and I are making out. You think it's hard for guys to remove a bra? You should try removing a bulletproof vest!

        I never saw Tony again. But I saw his picture in the newspaper. It turned out he was the one going away: for five to ten--at Sing-Sing.

        Wart Warning

If he's a wiseguy, be a wise girl--Frogeddaboudit!

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