By HOWARD BERGER
LOS ANGELES (Aug. 14) – You need not be a hockey fan to laugh uproariously while reading the new book I HATE EVERYONE… STARTING WITH ME by comedienne Joan Rivers. If you’re a parent, however, keep it away from children less than 16 years of age. Those that have seen Rivers do her shtick live will know that she could embarrass a deck-full of sailors. An overwhelming distribution of her book’s 243 pages would – if read aloud – turn the air blue. As planned, all portions of the manuscript are offensive; no ethnic group, gender or sexual inclination is spared.
Rivers is the personification of the 1970s sitcom ALL IN THE FAMILY, though Archie Bunker never took such dead-aim at himself. Anyone familiar with the 79-year-old will acknowledge her gift of self-deprecation; she can carve Joan Rivers better than a world-renown chef standing over a turkey on Thanksgiving. It provides her the licence to eviscerate any group or subject – no matter how pious. Heck, she even assails daughter Melissa, the renowned Red Carpet hostess, without a shred of restraint.
JOAN RIVERS (LEFT) AND DAUGHTER MELISSA.
I nearly suffered a hernia reading the damned book, I laughed so hard. Being as selective as possible, I’ll now share with you some of Joan’s phenomenal put-downs. Please understand these are in the spirit of amusement and are intended – as with each episode of ALL IN THE FAMILY – to flaunt their absurdity.
THIS BOOK IS X-RATED, YET HILARIOUS BEYOND WORDS. IT IS AVAILABLE AT AMAZON.COM VIA: http://www.amazon.com/Hate-Everyone-Starting-Me-Joan-Rivers/dp/0425248305/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1344902981&sr=1-1&keywords=JOAN+RIVERS
Near the beginning of the book, Rivers talks about how apparently fat she was as a kid:
“Fat wasn’t a condition, it was a way of life. I considered M&Ms one of the food groups. A rapist grabbed me, took a look, and said, ‘Maybe we could just be friends.’ My boyfriend needed a Sherpa to climb on top of me. I was the only person who ran with the bulls carrying a bottle of A-1 Steak Sauce. My husband used to dress me with his eyes. I sat shiva when my neighborhood Arby’s closed.”
Then, the “hate” began…
“I HATE IT WHEN WOMEN BREAST-FEED THEIR CHILDREN IN PUBLIC. I was on a bus and sitting across from me was a woman who was breast-feeding. There was the woman; there was her breast, and there was a face attached to it. The face belonged to a 41-year-old dermatologist named Lenny, but whatever.”
“CAN I MENTION THAT I HATED DENNIS THE MENACE? What’s with the mawkish rhyming? The kid was a bratty little boy, so they called him Dennis the Menace. If he was a gay Jew they would have called him Schlomo the Homo.”
“I HATE OLD BODIES. Which is why I’ve had mine renovated 600 times. I’ve undergone more reconstruction than Baghdad. I keep a crane in the bedroom to make sure my ass doesn’t hit the floor.”
THE WORDS “OLD PEOPLE” AND “SEX” SHOULD NEVER BE PART OF THE SAME CONVERSATION. When I hear Granny use the word “multiple”, it better be followed by “vitamin” and not “orgasm”.
“I LOVE FUNERALS! TO ME, A FUNERAL IS JUST A RED CARPET SHOW FOR DEAD PEOPLE. I love to write nasty things about the dead person in the condolence book and then sign their grandchildren’s name.”
“I HATE ‘LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT’. Unless you’re Stevie Wonder, there’s no such thing. Stevie can walk up to a woman, feel her face, and shriek ‘Isn’t she lovely.’ But, for the rest of us, love is a process – like filing taxes or doing monthly colon cleanings.”
“I HATE WOMEN WHO DATE MUCH YOUNGER MEN. I don’t ever want to wake up in the morning and wonder, ‘Is this my date or did I give birth last night?'”
“I HATE WHEN THEY THROW RICE [AT WEDDINGS]. If you want to throw rice, put the children of Darfur on the guest list.”
“I HATE FAT BRIDES. A fat girl in a white-satin gown doesn’t look beautiful; she looks like an avalanche. First they throw rice, then they throw gravy.”
“I ALSO HATE UGLY BRIDES. I went to one wedding where the bride was so hideous, her mother whispered to the groom, ‘Don’t be a schmuck. Take the maid of honor. It’s not too late.’ Her father was in such a hurry to get her married, he tried to give her away on the way to the church.”
“I HATE THAT PEOPLE ARE SO CRUDE AND DON’T HAVE MANNERS. The last time a man leaned over and opened a car door for me, we were on the freeway. And, the last time a man pulled out a chair for me, I was in Aspen and we were on a ski lift.”
“I HATE BAD TABLE MANNERS. For example, according to etiquette, you’re always supposed to leave something on your plate. Unlike Kirstie Alley, who doesn’t even leave the pattern.”
“I HATE MEN WHO DON’T PULL OUT A LADY’S CHAIR AT THE TABLE. Unless it’s a wheelchair. Yes, watching a helpless paralytic wriggle around on the carpet is sure funny, but helping her back into the chair is a huge pain in the ass.”
“I HATE PEOPLE WHO DON’T KNOW HOW TO HANDLE A FART IN THE ELEVATOR. If you’re the owner of the offending tush; you’ve let loose with something more noxious than Zyklon B and you can’t ignore the watering eyes of helpless passengers, at least have the manners to quietly acknowledge the horror. While there may be nothing you can say to make restitution for their collapsed lungs, you can certainly try to look apologetic and make an excuse.”
“I HATE PEOPLE WHO TALK TO ME FROM THE NEXT STALL IN PUBLIC RESTROOMS, ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY’RE MOVING THEIR BOWELS. I’m not an English professor, but I’m pretty sure grunting isn’t part of sentence structure. If you’re going to chat me up – stall to stall – then the only words coming out of your mouth better be, ‘Oh my God, I think I just lost the fetus!'”
“I HATE WHEN DINERS ASK, ‘HOW IS THAT PREPARED?’ Like the waitress showed up an hour early to watch the chef cook. Just once, I’d like to hear her say, ‘Well, once the rats are done crapping on it, the chef kicks it across the floor and then I pick it up and reheat it under my armpits.'”
“I HATE TIPPING. After every meal, there is the moment when the waiter brings the check to the table. It’s for $9.47; you put down a $100 bill and he says, ‘Would you like some change?’ Hmm… let’s see. The bill is $9.47. You know what, I don’t need any change. I always tip eight-thousand percent.”
“I HATE HAPPY MEALS. McDonald’s seems to think that eating these meals will make you happy. It won’t. It may make your cardiologist and his accountant happy, but all it will make you feel is fat and bloated.”
“I HATE NEW ORLEANS, but I respect it. You’ve got to respect a city that doesn’t want to hear about building above sea level. Grandpa dies and he’s buried over you. New Orleans is filthy and dirty; it’s the only city that looked better after it was hit by a Category-5 hurricane.”
“I HATE WINNIPEG. It’s cold all the time. No matter when you go there, the people are shivering and shaking. It’s like being at a detox center on intake day.”
“I HATE AIRLINES THAT MAKE YOU PAY FOR EVERYTHING. Which is pretty much all of them except for Southwest. On Southwest, the amenities are free but you have to pay for their pilots’ rehab stints at Betty Ford.”
“[ON A PLANE], THE ONLY THING I HATE MORE THAN SOME MORBIDLY-OBESE SLOB WADDLING DOWN THE AISLE LOOKING FOR HIS SEAT… is praying that the seat he’s looking for isn’t next to mine. If it is, I encourage him to rethink sitting there by saying something like, ‘Do you know how to change a colostomy bag?'”
“I HATE THAT THE ACADEMY AWARDS CEREMONY CALLS ITSELF ‘THE NIGHT HOLLYWOOD HONORS ITS OWN’. These people have more award ceremonies than Mia Farrow has children. Other professions don’t carry on like this. When was the last time you saw a TV awards show for proctologists? And the winner of Best Supporting Finger is… Dr. Murray Weinstein, for his fine work in Marvin Shissel’s ass.”
“BILL CLINTON AND MONICA LEWINSKY. They’d still be together if she’d found a one-hour dry cleaner.”
“I HATE PEOPLE WHO YELL AT THE [WORKERS] IN FAST-FOOD RESTAURANTS. If something goes wrong with an order, they scream, ‘What are you, an idiot?’ Of course he’s an idiot. He’s a 47-year-old man making $1.50 an hour and wearing a paper hat. What are you yelling at him for?”
“I HATE PEOPLE WHO FAIL AT SUICIDE ATTEMPTS. If you can’t even kill yourself, what good are you to the rest of us? Try a sure-fire method: Jump under a train or hop off a bridge. Date Sammy the Bull.”
“I HATE PEOPLE WHO HAVE LITTLE TEETH AND GIANT GUMS. Like my neighbor in Apartment 8C. She has eight inches of pink gums and then tiny ivory pegs at the bottom. Her smile looks like an elephant’s foot.”
“I HATE HAVING TO BE PATIENT WITH PEOPLE WHO HAVE EARLY ONSET OF ALZHEIMER’S. It’s exhausting. How many times can I say, ‘Yes, we ate lunch already, Ruthie’ or ‘No, it’s me… Joan. Uncle Bernie’s been dead since 1964.'”
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There’s more in this book… lots more – most of which renders the above examples ‘child-appropriate.’ My only disappointment is that Joan Rivers doesn’t know Brian Burke. What a splendid collaboration that would be!
FACEBOOK: HOWARD BERGER [THORNHILL ON]