Rating: 
Summary: Funny! Funny! Funny!
Review: As we've come to expect from "The Master of Booger" Humor, this book is hilaroius! This book along with Debbie Farmer's "Don't Put Lipstick on the Cat!" And Bruce Cameron's "8 Simple Rules" makes a perfect life survival package.
Rating:
Summary: A Highly Entertaining and Insightful Book
Review: Dave Barry is a silly man. He's a silly man with a Pulitzer. He's a silly man whose Miami Herald column is syndicated in 500 newspapers. His silly work has been transformed into a so-so sitcom and a better-than-average movie. He's the author of 25 silly books, the most recent of which is BOOGERS ARE MY BEAT, a silly title if there ever was one.But none of this is news to the legions of Dave Barry fans, a group to which I will unrepentantly proclaim membership. Silliness, you see, is gold, a rare and desirable commodity, especially now as the world cycles through one of those historically inevitable periods in which pretty much everything stinks. Dave Barry's inspired silliness is a reliable antidote to the virus of bad news, news that is often the result of a different, darker kind of silliness on the part of people who, for reasons that often defy both logic and credulity, occupy positions of power --- political, economic, or otherwise. It's a credit to Barry's skill as a writer that the silliness never overtakes the accuracy of his observations and never obscures the brain behind the gags. Barry twists familiar social, cultural and political issues into funny balloon animals and then smacks them with a length of barbed wire, giggling all the while. To Barry, family life, fatherhood, jobs, marriage, politics, business, and whatever else falls under his gaze is a piñata waiting to be punctured. Barry's columns are consistently funny, but he is truly in the zone when he's on assignment, as demonstrated in BOOGERS ARE MY BEAT with his coverage of the Republican and Democratic conventions in 2000 and bizarre end to that year's presidential election. His coverage of the 2002 Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City made me laugh out loud several times while on a city bus, much to the alarm of the other passengers. There have been occasions in his career when Barry has revealed his serious side, and this new collection includes two such examples: a column written the day after the terrorist attacks in September 2001, and another written on the first anniversary of that event. These columns demonstrate his understanding that there is no light without shadow. It is this understanding, perhaps, that drives the relentless silliness of his humor columns. Dave Barry is indeed a silly man, and for that we should be grateful. --- Reviewed by Bob Rhubart
Rating: 
Summary: Solid collection of Barry humor
Review: Dave Barry is the king of quirky and funny. And with a title like "Boogers Are My Beat: More Lies, But Some Actual Journalism," you know it's gotta be worth looking at. While it's not Barry's strongest collection (it feels a little fragmented), it's still the sort of stuff to split your sides. In this book, Dave starts off with some older columns from the presidential election that will live in infamy (if the mention of dimpled chads make you twitch, these chapters will make you have a seizure). Then he proceeds to spoof, lampoon and chuckle over such things as belligerent turkeys, the Oscars, the perils of fatherhood (and having a birthday party for a two-year-old), determining what the Lone Ranger was saying to his horse (even consulting Stephen King on that), an RV in a Wal-Mart parking lot, moving to a new house (his windows have some sort of window leprosy), using the GOOD TOWELS, being subjected to post-terrorism airport security, and having a sewage station in North Dakota named after him. He finishes up with two nonhumorous columns about September 11th. The "actual journalism" is mostly confined to A) making fun of the Republican and Democratic conventions, and B) covering a swingers' convention. Yes! They do have conventions! Not at the same place as the Dem and Rep cons, though. Sprinkled through it is the same gleeful bathroom humor, gender jokes, anagrams, and weird names for rock bands that he is famous for.The only exception is the final two columns, sensitive, serious, and more or less pinpointing what the average person feels. (These are put at the end, so they won't ruin down the burp-humor before it) One of the big changes is that for "hapless humor," he now focuses on his baby daughter rather than his dogs. The only problem with this collection of columns is that it feels kind of patched together -- first we have election humor from a few years back, then ordinary humor on a variety of topics, then serious stuff. It's more than a little jarring, and makes the book seem shorter than it is. I was a little surprised to see at the end that it was as long (or even longer) than his other works. "Boogers Are My Beat" is a great new serving of Barry humor, even if it has three different flavors and one of them isn't funny. So admire the tasteful cover and settle in to read. A reliable source (defined as "a source wearing business attire") told us to say so!
Rating:
Summary: Solid collection of Barry humor
Review: Dave Barry is the king of quirky and funny. And with a title like "Boogers Are My Beat: More Lies, But Some Actual Journalism," you know it's gotta be worth looking at. While it's not Barry's strongest collection (it feels a little fragmented), it's still the sort of stuff to split your sides. In this book, Dave starts off with some older columns from the presidential election that will live in infamy (if the mention of dimpled chads make you twitch, these chapters will make you have a seizure). Then he proceeds to spoof, lampoon and chuckle over such things as belligerent turkeys, the Oscars, the perils of fatherhood (and having a birthday party for a two-year-old), determining what the Lone Ranger was saying to his horse (even consulting Stephen King on that), an RV in a Wal-Mart parking lot, moving to a new house (his windows have some sort of window leprosy), using the GOOD TOWELS, being subjected to post-terrorism airport security, and having a sewage station in North Dakota named after him. He finishes up with two nonhumorous columns about September 11th. The "actual journalism" is mostly confined to A) making fun of the Republican and Democratic conventions, and B) covering a swingers' convention. Yes! They do have conventions! Not at the same place as the Dem and Rep cons, though. Sprinkled through it is the same gleeful bathroom humor, gender jokes, anagrams, and weird names for rock bands that he is famous for.The only exception is the final two columns, sensitive, serious, and more or less pinpointing what the average person feels. (These are put at the end, so they won't ruin down the burp-humor before it) One of the big changes is that for "hapless humor," he now focuses on his baby daughter rather than his dogs. The only problem with this collection of columns is that it feels kind of patched together -- first we have election humor from a few years back, then ordinary humor on a variety of topics, then serious stuff. It's more than a little jarring, and makes the book seem shorter than it is. I was a little surprised to see at the end that it was as long (or even longer) than his other works. "Boogers Are My Beat" is a great new serving of Barry humor, even if it has three different flavors and one of them isn't funny. So admire the tasteful cover and settle in to read. A reliable source (defined as "a source wearing business attire") told us to say so!
Rating:
Summary: Barry reminded me how funny last presidential election was
Review: I almost forgot how funny the last Presidential election was
until I read David Barry's latest collection of columns, BOOGERS
ARE MY BEAT . . . he included several of his best pieces from
that period, as well as others on a wide range of topics, including the
scientific search for the world's funniest joke, RV camping in the Wal-Mart
parking lot and the Olympics (where people from all over the world
come together to accuse each other of cheating). I've read just about every book by Barry, and each time it seems I
find myself laughing out loud at his observations . . . as I've said
before, my only regret is that his work does not appear in my
local newspaper. In BOOGERS, there were many hysterical passages; among them:
* To win Florida, both candidates needed the support of our 398 million
elderly residents, all of whom vote. Voting is one of their major forms
of entertainment, along with eating dinner at 4:30 p.m. and failing to
notice green lights while sitting behind the wheels of their 1986
Oldsmobiles. To win the votes of these people, both Al Gore and
George W. Bush promised that, if elected, they would have the
government give the elderly huge quantities of drugs. So one definite
outcome of the election is that, for the next four years, our seniors,
God bless them, will be stoned out of their gourds. This will probably
improve their driving. Don't get me wrong: I'm all for these recounts. I agree with the thousands
of out-of-state lawyers currently clogging every Holiday Inn in the
state: We must discern the intent of EVERY VOTER. In fact, I think
we should count people who had planned to vote, but, for whatever
reason, never got around to actually go to the polls. I think we should
count people who failed to register, but have a good excuse, such as they
forgot. I think we should count people who live in less-dramatic states
such as Delaware, but would have moved to Florida and registered if
they had known how exciting this election was going to be. * "Mr. Barry," they'll say, "this is just a courtesy call to do you the
courtesy of interrupting your dinner so I can ask you this question:
Would you like to save fifty percent more on your long-distance
phone bill?" I always say no. I tell them that I WANT a big long-distance bill,
and that I often place totally unnecessary calls to distant continents
just to jack it up. I tell them that if my long-distance bill is not high
enough to suit me, I deliberately set fire to a pile of cash. Then I
hang up. But of course this does not stop them. The next night,
they call again. That's how courteous they are. * Here's a similar bonehead error that guys often commit in guest
bathrooms: They see soap on a soap dish, and they use it to
wash their hands. This of course ruins the guest soap, which
is defined as "soap that guests are not supposed to use." Its
purpose is to match the guest towels. In this letter to me, Dick criticized this kind of thinking by comparing
it to a hypothetical situation involving guys. Suppose, he wrote,
that a guy is working on his car, and he asks you to hand him a
9/16 wrench. You go over to some wrenches hanging on the wall,
and you start to take one, and the guy yells, "NOT THOSE! THOSE
ARE FOR DECORATION!"
Rating:
Summary: Barry reminded me how funny last presidential election was
Review: I almost forgot how funny the last Presidential election was
until I read David Barry's latest collection of columns, BOOGERS
ARE MY BEAT . . . he included several of his best pieces from
that period, as well as others on a wide range of topics, including the
scientific search for the world's funniest joke, RV camping in the Wal-Mart
parking lot and the Olympics (where people from all over the world
come together to accuse each other of cheating). I've read just about every book by Barry, and each time it seems I
find myself laughing out loud at his observations . . . as I've said
before, my only regret is that his work does not appear in my
local newspaper. In BOOGERS, there were many hysterical passages; among them:
* To win Florida, both candidates needed the support of our 398 million
elderly residents, all of whom vote. Voting is one of their major forms
of entertainment, along with eating dinner at 4:30 p.m. and failing to
notice green lights while sitting behind the wheels of their 1986
Oldsmobiles. To win the votes of these people, both Al Gore and
George W. Bush promised that, if elected, they would have the
government give the elderly huge quantities of drugs. So one definite
outcome of the election is that, for the next four years, our seniors,
God bless them, will be stoned out of their gourds. This will probably
improve their driving. Don't get me wrong: I'm all for these recounts. I agree with the thousands
of out-of-state lawyers currently clogging every Holiday Inn in the
state: We must discern the intent of EVERY VOTER. In fact, I think
we should count people who had planned to vote, but, for whatever
reason, never got around to actually go to the polls. I think we should
count people who failed to register, but have a good excuse, such as they
forgot. I think we should count people who live in less-dramatic states
such as Delaware, but would have moved to Florida and registered if
they had known how exciting this election was going to be. * "Mr. Barry," they'll say, "this is just a courtesy call to do you the
courtesy of interrupting your dinner so I can ask you this question:
Would you like to save fifty percent more on your long-distance
phone bill?" I always say no. I tell them that I WANT a big long-distance bill,
and that I often place totally unnecessary calls to distant continents
just to jack it up. I tell them that if my long-distance bill is not high
enough to suit me, I deliberately set fire to a pile of cash. Then I
hang up. But of course this does not stop them. The next night,
they call again. That's how courteous they are. * Here's a similar bonehead error that guys often commit in guest
bathrooms: They see soap on a soap dish, and they use it to
wash their hands. This of course ruins the guest soap, which
is defined as "soap that guests are not supposed to use." Its
purpose is to match the guest towels. In this letter to me, Dick criticized this kind of thinking by comparing
it to a hypothetical situation involving guys. Suppose, he wrote,
that a guy is working on his car, and he asks you to hand him a
9/16 wrench. You go over to some wrenches hanging on the wall,
and you start to take one, and the guy yells, "NOT THOSE! THOSE
ARE FOR DECORATION!"
Rating:
Summary: Still a Dave Barry Fan
Review: I've been a Dave Barry fan since he was writing columns about his (now twenty-something) two-year old son doing embarassing things in public places. Now Barry is on a new wife and has a brand new two-year old to write columns about. And he still thinks the word (and presumably the concept of) "booger" is funny. I picked up this book with mixed feelings. He seems to rely more and more on silly humor (boogers, exploding toilets, hilarious names for rock bands) rather than the classic columns of Dave Barry's Bad Habits (my favorite Barry book). And the jackets of his books always have him in some ridiculous pose. I keep saying, "This will be my last Dave Barry book." But Dave Barry always comes through. I read this latest book cover to cover. His comments on the Republican and Democratic conventions were scathing, his observations at the Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City were deadly, and the serious columns at the end reveal that there is more to Barry than adolescent humor. (His essay from an earlier collection, written after the death of his mother, is a masterpiece.) So I will ignore the goofy cover photos, the inane titles, and the wacky cartoons, and just read what Barry writes -- solid, mostly humorous, essays.
Rating:
Summary: Dave is still funnier than anybody
Review: Most Dave Barry fans will have read the contents of this book in the weekly columns, but the stuff is as funny on rereading. The guy is just wonderfully perceptive and has a real knack for anagrams and a genuine concern for rock-and-roll. Replacing his two dogs with his new daughter Sophie brings a refreshing dimension to his work. But I hope he cuts back on Sophie stories about the time she and her playmates learn to read, so that she doesn't become an unwilling celebrity. The book ends with two longer pieces about 9/11 that are quite effective.
Rating:
Summary: Dave is still funnier than anybody
Review: Most Dave Barry fans will have read the contents of this book in the weekly columns, but the stuff is as funny on rereading. The guy is just wonderfully perceptive and has a real knack for anagrams and a genuine concern for rock-and-roll. Replacing his two dogs with his new daughter Sophie brings a refreshing dimension to his work. But I hope he cuts back on Sophie stories about the time she and her playmates learn to read, so that she doesn't become an unwilling celebrity. The book ends with two longer pieces about 9/11 that are quite effective.
Rating:
Summary: 21st Century Satirical Humor in Barry's "Boogers"
Review: No less a resource than Barrett "Dr. Demento" Hansen once said you could tell much about a country by its satirists. Week after week in more than 500 newspapers including the Miami Herald (motto, according to Dave, "Serving a Vibrant Community of Two Million People of whom 23 speak English"), humor columnist Dave Barry manages to be clever and funny, at times hilarious. Yet he provides running commentary on little and large American events and foibles within them. "Boogers Are My Beat" is appropriately titled as Barry finding humor in the first, most surreal and undignified events of the new millennium. He covers (while trying to find a beer) 2000's Salt Lake City Olympics with its controversial figure skating judgement ("Don't Trust Any Judge With Two First Names"). He finds protestors and parties in that year's political conventions (featuring a cute column on sharing more than TV time with Rev. Jerry Falwell and daily scatalogical updates on that year's Gore-Leiberman ticket). That year's historic George Bush election, with its infamous focus on Barry's South Florida backyard, results in a series of funny yet prescient columns. Barry also finds kinder humor at smaller events in smaller towns. He visits Grand Forks, ND and attends a special dedication ceremony, a trip to a different type of mountain with an author who'd climbed Everest, then does everything from park an RV at Wal-Mart to attend a Miami swingers convention (creating a funny essay without resorting to offensive humor, a neat trick.) Barry's infant daughter also inspires columns on everything from her favorite music and movies to planning extravagant birthday parties to getting her (and himself) through airport security. (His column about trying to swat a butterfly, featuring a trusted guest corroborator, is hands down the book funniest piece.) Two Barry columns conclude the book somberly. His piece written the day after 9/11 is confused yet seethes with righteous anger, addressing what most people still feel to this day. His column from Gettysburg and Shanksville, PA (where Flight 93 crashed while its passengers bravely fought the terrorists) allows Barry to use his gifts of character observation and detail, the strength of his humor writing, to moving, dramatic effect. Barry has his humor trademarks: rearranging letters to spell a rock band or odd phrase, chronicles of his concerts featuring a rock band made of famous authors. These are touchstones in a weekly column but a tiring in essay after essay. Nonetheless, "Boogers Are My Beat" is a fine, fresh addition to Barry's catalogue and a worthwhile timepiece for the first years of this century. For more, check out some of Barry's theme collections (Guide to Guys, Dave's Book of Bad Songs) or his Greatest Hits essay collection.
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