You know the kind? — Ryan North, Dinosaur Comics "Joey Comeau's Overqualified is Judy Blume’s Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret as chewed up and spit out by J. G. Ballard... A book whose melancholy is leavened by a surprising hilarity.” — Paul Di Filippo, author of The Steampunk Trilogy and CosmocopiaCover letters are all the same. They're useless. You write the same lies over and over again, listing the store-bought parts of yourself that you respect the least. God knows how they tell anyone apart, but this is how it's done. And then one day a car comes out of nowhere, and suddenly everything changes and you don't know if he'll ever wake up. You get out of bed in the morning, and when you sit down to write another paint-by-numbers cover letter, something entirely different comes out. You start threatening instead of begging. You tell impolite jokes. You talk about your childhood and your sexual fantasies. You sign your real name and you put yourself honestly into letter after letter and there is no way you are ever going to get this job. Not with a letter like this. And you send it anyway.

    Koalas look cuddly, but they're actually irritable, solitary beasts who do not want belly rubs. What kind of mocking god created creatures with poofy ears and big black noses that don't want belly rubs? BOpossums: North America gets one lousy marsupial, and let's just say it's not going to win any beauty contests. Or even not-ugly contests. C−Wombats: "Wombat" is a great name. It's got a "wom" and a "bat," and an "omba." They're kind of nondescript animals, cute in a generic pudgy mammal way, but their name spelled backward is "tabmow," and that makes all the difference. AThe Book of Ratings is hysterically arbitrary and undeniably infectious.

    They’ve tested France’s first guillotines, ridden the NASA Space Shuttle, been crucified in a Parisian laboratory to test the authenticity of the Shroud of Turin, and helped solve the mystery of TWA Flight 800. For every new surgical procedure, from heart transplants to gender confirmation surgery, cadavers have helped make history in their quiet way. “Delightful—though never disrespectful” (Les Simpson, Time Out New York), Stiff investigates the strange lives of our bodies postmortem and answers the question: What should we do after we die?“This quirky, funny read offers perspective and insight about life, death and the medical profession. . . . You can close this book with an appreciation of the miracle that the human body really is.” —Tara Parker-Pope, Wall Street Journal“Gross, educational, and unexpectedly sidesplitting.” —Entertainment Weekly

    While outrageously false, these hilarious “facts” unearth deep truths about Canadians and their culture. For the over 200,000 people already following on Twitter, @stats_canada is a daily source of the funniest Canadian parody. Now, in their first book, Stats Canada satirizes everything from history, culture, and language to sports, entertainment, politics, weather, and much more. With all-new features, graphs, maps, and other illustrations, Stats Canada has all the laughter you’ve come to expect, with only 10% recycled content! 35% of advice given in any Home Hardware does not come from an actual employee 67% of Canadians own summer snow pants 32% of Canadians can’t spell “tuque” but own at least four 56% of Manitobans are convinced they’ve travelled to the future when visiting other provinces 79% of Canadian teens don’t want to wear their winter coat, it’s not even that cold out 100% of Canadian hockey players give it 110% every game 65% of Canadian Instagram accounts include an artsy photo of a Tim Hortons cup Disclaimer: The official Statistics Canada has taken no issue with the content of this book. They were too polite to object.

    Whether David Rakoff's contrasting the elegance of one of the last flights of the supersonic Concorde with the good-times-and-chicken-wings populism of Hooters Air; working as a cabana boy at a South Beach hotel; or traveling to a private island off the coast of Belize to watch a soft-core video shoot where he is provided with his very own personal manservant rarely have greed, vanity, selfishness, and vapidity been so mercilessly skewered. Somewhere along the line, our healthy self-regard has exploded into obliterating narcissism; our manic getting and spending have now become celebrated as moral virtues. Simultaneously a Wildean satire and a plea for a little human decency, Don t Get Too Comfortable shows that far from being bobos in paradise, we are in a special circle of gilded-age hell.

    and I am wide awake because the man of the house has decided that he needs to perform a series of complex manoeuvres that involve him balancing on his left elbow. When I fell asleep last night, there was a baby lying next to me. Her smelly diaper is still wedged on my head but aside from this rather damp clue, I can't seem to find her anywhere. I could ask my mother-in-law if she has seen the baby, but she may just tell me that I need to fast on alternate Mondays, and God will deliver the baby back to me . . . Full of wit and delicious observations, Mrs Funnybones captures the life of the modern Indian woman—a woman who organizes dinner each evening, even as she goes to work all day, who runs her own life but has to listen to her Mummyji, who worries about her weight and the state of the country. Based on Twinkle Khanna’s super-hit column, Mrs Funnybones marks the debut of one of our funniest, most original voices.

    The Major; "Don't mention the war!;" "He's from Barcelona;" Basil the Rat—everyone has a favorite line, moment, or character. In the first biography of the show, Graham McCann holds up to the light each of the unpredictable elements—the demented brilliance of John Cleese, his creative partnership with Connie Booth—that added up to an immortal sitcom, beloved all over the world, even in Barcelona.

     Marvel at the thief who steals electrical wires without shutting off the current. Gape at the lawnchair jockey who floats to a height of 16,000 feet suspended by helium balloons. Learn from the man who peers into a gasoline can using a cigarette lighter. All three -- and many more -- contend for Darwin Awards when their choices culminate in magnificent misadventures. These tales of trial and awe-inspiring error--verified by the author and endorsed by website readers--illustrate the ongoing saga of survival of the fittest in all its selective glory.

    Pure Drivel is a collection of pieces, most of them written for the New Yorker, that demonstrate Martin's playful way with words and his unerring ability to create a feeling of serendipitous improvisation even on the printed page. Here's a passage from a piece that announces a shortage of periods in the Times Roman font: "Most vulnerable are writers who work in short, choppy sentences," said a spokesperson for Times Roman, who continued, "We are trying to remedy the situation and have suggested alternatives, like umlauts, since we have plenty of umlauts--and, in fact, have more umlauts than we could possibly use in a lifetime! Don't forget, umlauts can really spice up a page with their delicate symmetry--resting often midway in a word, letters spilling on either side--and not only indicate the pronunciation of a word but also contribute to a writer's greater glory because they're fancy, not to mention that they even look like periods, indeed, are indistinguishable from periods, and will lead casual readers to believe that the article actually contains periods!" Although some of these pieces flirted with topicality when they first appeared, Martin is most successful when he leaves the real world behind and gives his wit free rein. This collection preserves the best (so far) of his glorious improvisations. --Simon Leake

    With hilarious anecdotes and irreverent observations, Karo captures the twentysomething experience like never before and answers the question, "Is there life after college?" Featuring the very best of his world-renowned email column as well as brand-new material published here for the first time, Ruminations on Twentysomething Life details Karo's evolution from frat boy to manhood and explores the frenzied lives of a generation living in the strange and unique gap between college and marriage. With his trademark acerbic wit, Karo ruminates on everything from your first day on the job to the last call at the bar. Perfect for students about to get their first dose of reality, twentysomethings procrastinating at work, or anyone who wants to relive their glory days, this book is sure to have readers laughing out loud and nodding their heads in agreement that there is indeed life after college.

    Poems, sketches, cartoons, short prose pieces and doctored photos.

    This book goes through all the miserable people you love to hate. Do you hate morning people? How about the guy who doesn’t wipe the ketchup top after using it? Or people who just don’t care? After all, isn’t hating just another form of caring?It's true: Misery does love company. But what kind of company can you keep if you can't stand anyone? This kind. No matter who they are or what they do that sets you off and gets you going, you'll find 'em inside. From rich people who are dicks to guys named Rich who go by Dick to those who are always cold to people who are just hot, no one is safe. But one thing is certain—everyone will find someone they equally despise. And you're gonna love it, period.

    There is a cute and present danger lurking out there–in the wild, in the zoos, and sometimes even in our very own homes. Spurred on by the Cute Industrial Complex, these cuddly animals have taken over blockbuster films, inspirational posters, and computer desktops everywhere, further weakening the innocent civilians who are beguiled by these fuzzy frauds. But you are stronger than them, aren’t you? Those soft bellies and wet noses are no match for you–and their free ride has just come to an end. F U, Penguin is the rallying cry for those who choose to fight these power-hungry cute-mongers. Loaded with color photographs and hilarious commentary, this book will have you laughing out loud while it simultaneously saves you from the tragic fate of tossing yarn with big-eyed kittens and bottle-nursing baby pandas forever. ___________________________ "Finally, a book for the rest of us! Most animals go about our business without playing to the audience like the elitists exposed in these chapters.I wasn't sure how many more times I could hear about those great penguins and pandas and kittens before I started eating people... well, more people, anyway."—Jerry the Shark "Penguins killed my parents, and they would not hesitate to kill me. I thank the Crustacean God for Matthew Gasteier, a true saint and a decent human being in a world filled with heartless penguin accomplices."—Dennis the Krill "It's all true. We're the worst."—Anonymous Penguin "The average dolphin is far beyond this level of vulgarity, but I could see how this would be a very enjoyable book for humans. I should remember to hand these out to some of my slower relatives at the common ancestor reunion."—Edward the Dolphin "Thank you for your submission. Unfortunately, this style of book is not something we are currently looking for. However, we wish you the best of luck with your human publishers!"—Danielle the Bear, Editor-in-Chief, Random Cave Publishing

    In reality, mythology is more screwed up than a schizophrenic shaman doing hits of unidentified. Wait, it all makes sense now. In Zeus Grants Stupid Wishes, Cory O’Brien, creator of Myths RETOLD!, sets the stories straight. These are rude, crude, totally sacred texts told the way they were meant to be told: loudly, and with lots of four-letter words. Skeptical? Here are just a few gems to consider: � Zeus once stuffed an unborn fetus inside his thigh to save its life after he exploded its mother by being too good in bed. � The entire Egyptian universe was saved because Sekhmet just got too hammered to keep murdering everyone. � The Hindu universe is run by a married couple who only stop murdering in order to throw sweet dance parties…on the corpses of their enemies. � The Norse goddess Freyja once consented to a four-dwarf gangbang in exchange for one shiny necklace. And there’s more dysfunctional goodness where that came from.

    The decadent 1920s and 1930s in New York were a time of great experiment and daring for women. For the rich, life seemed a continual party, but the excesses took their emotional toll. In the bitingly witty poems and stories collected here, along with her articles and reviews, she brilliantly captures the spirit of the decadent Jazz Age in New York, exposing both the dazzle and the darkness. But beneath the sharp perceptions and acidic humour, much of her work poignantly expresses the deep vulnerability of a troubled, self-destructive woman who, in the words of philosopher Irwin Edman, was 'a Sappho who could combine a heartbreak with a wisecrack'.Dorothy Parker (1893-1967) was born in West End, New Jersey, and grew up in New York. In 1916 she sold some of her poetry to the editor of Vogue, and was subsequently given an editorial position on the magazine. She then became drama critic of Vanity Fair and the central figure of the celebrated Algonquin Round Table, whose members included George S. Kaufman and Harpo Marx. Her collections of poems included Enough Rope (1926) and Not So Deep as a Well (1936), and her collections of stories included Here Lies (1939); in addition, she collaborated on and wrote screenplays including the Oscar-winning A Star is Born (1937), and Alfred Hitchcock's Saboteur (1942).If you enjoyed The Collected Dorothy Parker, you might like Truman Capote's The Complete Stories, also available in Penguin Modern Classics.'She managed to express her real feelings in stanzas which snap and glitter like a Chanel handbag'Peter Ackroyd, The Times