I’ll Mature When I’m Dead: Dave Barry’s Amazing Tales of Adulthood
Where to buy I’ll Mature When I’m Dead: Dave Barry’s Incredible Tales of Adulthood books online?
- ISBN13: 9780399156502
- Condition: NEW
- Notes: Brand New from Publisher. No Remainder Mark.
Product Description
A brilliantly amusing exploration of the treacherous state of adulthood by the Pulitzer Prize-winning humorist.
Some people may marvel what this theme has to do with Dave Barry, since Dave’s struggled hard against growing up his entire life-but the result is one of the most amusing, warmest, most pitch-perfect books ever on that bewildering territory we call “adulthood”.
In hilarious, brand-new pieces, Dave tackles everything from fatherhood, new fatherhood (“Over the next five years, you will spend roughly 45 minutes, total, listening to songs you like, and roughly 127,000 hours to songs exploring topics such as how the horn on the bus goes* [*It goes: 'Beep! Beep! Beep!']“), self-image, the battle of the sexes, celebrityhood, equipment, parenting styles, certain unthinkable medical procedures (“There is absolutely no reason to be worried of a vasectomy, except that: THEY CUT A HOLE IN YOUR SCROTUM.”), and much more. It is a book of pure delight from the man one newspaper claimed “could become the most vital American humorist since Mark Twain” (South Florida Sun-Sentinel)…though, frankly, we reflect they were indulging in some adult beverages at the time.
Amazon.com Review
Jen Lancaster is a ex- vice president at an investor relations firm and a New York Times bestselling leader. Her books include My Honest Bone idle, Pretty in Plaid, and Bitter is the New Black. She replaced Dave Barry as writer for Humor Hotel, a nationally syndicated humor column. 
Read on to see Jen Lancaster’s questions for Dave Barry, or turn the tables to see what she questioned him.
Jen: The Pulitzer Prize looks a lot like persons gold-colored one-dollar Sacagawea coins. Do you still have yours or did you accidentally use it in a parking meter?
Dave: I really lost my Pulitzer Prize for several years. I place it in a safe place, then I forgot where that was. My wife eventually establish it and place it an even safer place. But your question disturbs me, because it’s NOT a coin: It looks more like a middle-school diploma. So now I’m wondering: Is it really a Pulitzer Prize? Maybe I was the victim of an elaborate practical joke wherein Columbia University gave me a middle-school diploma and just TOLD me it was a Pulitzer. That would make sense, because (a) nobody ever really believes I won a Pulitzer, and (b) in university circles Columbia is known as a huge prankster.
Jen: Does it indeed take a village?
Dave: I really grew up in a village, specifically the village of Armonk, New York. Everybody in Armonk knew everybody else back then, which meant that if, as a high-school student, you (and here I am using “you” in the sense of “I”) experimented a tad (and here I am using “a tad” in the sense of “way”) too heavily with adult beverages one night in the fall of 1964 and passed out on a lawn that—of all the lawns you could have selected in Armonk—was the lawn belonging to Chief of Police Hergenhan, you would not be arrested; as a replacement for, Chief Hergenhan, upon learning you drooling facedown into his crabgrass at 1:30 a.m., would call your dad to come get you, because he knew your dad, and he also knew that you would spend approximately the next two weeks retching, which was punishment enough. So I would say yes.
Jen: If X = Agent Jack Bauer and Y = shooting a name in the thigh, how many perimeters need to be set up to bring Edgar back to life?
Dave: It depends on how long it takes Chloe to get a visual on the satellite and upload the schematics.
Jen: Children seem to be more delicate than when we were kids. Do you advocate encasing them in Lucite until their eighteenth birthday?
Dave: These kids today don’t know how simple they have it, with their iPhones and their iPads and their atmosphere consisting of 21 percent oxygen and 78 percent nitrogen and 1 percent various additional gases. When I was a youngster we didn’t have ANYTHING. We didn’t even have HAIR. We sat around naked in the cold, sucking on rocks for nourishment. But you never heard us complain, and by God we licked the Fantastic Depression and won World War II. No, wait, that was our parents’ generation. But we faced challenges of our own. Junior year abroad, for example. That was no picnic. So you don’t even want to KNOW what I reflect.
Jen: Shirts or skins?
Dave: You permanently want to be on the skins team, because that way you’re guarding a guy on the shirts team, which means if you touch him you’re touching his shirt, which is an okay way to touch another guy (for very a brief period). If you’re on the shirts team, you have to guard a guy on the skins team, which means you might come into contact with his actual skin, which is incorrect on several levels, not the least of which is that he will be discharge perspiration slime, like a giant eel with b.o. This is the main reason why guys turn to golf.
Jen: Will men use GPS or do they consider this the modern-day equivalent of stopping to question for directions at the gas station—which is to say, an affront to their masculinity?
Dave: It’s acceptable to use a GPS because it is an incomprehensibly complex electronic contrivance and therefore manly. But it is NOT acceptable to use the same GPS for long periods of time. Every six months or so you must buy a newer model with more features that you don’t need and a larger screen. Screen size is the vital thing. Your goal is to eventually have a GPS with a screen so large that you can’t see out your windshield; when you drive you’re just looking at this humongous GPS screen. But you are still wondering, deep inside, when they’re going to come out with a larger one.
Jen: Bret Michaels’s fans still throw their panties onstage when he performs. What do Rock Bottom Remainders groupies toss?
Dave:We have had panties thrown at us. But they were labeled “MAXIMUM OCCUPANCY 30 PEOPLE.”
(Photo of Jen Lancaster © Jeremy Lawson)
(Photo of Dave Barry © Raul Ribiera/Miami Indication)
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Well , I can go one further. I can give this 5 stars and I havent even read it yet. At last an all new Dave Barry book. I represent the sad Scottish Barry fan club. I read all the 24 Blogs and even buy at least one of the Christmas gifts each year.
Just a few questions:
PLEASE Could we have another novel? Huge Distress is a fantastic book and movie. Not Dave’s fault that his movie about a rogue nuke came out on 9/11 and got buried.(Note the use of capitals!!)
Is the book tour just an excuse for a drunken road trip? Its obviouly not needed as the book is already at #4..
Why does the schedule include all the usual New York and dreary California towns? Why not the Baltic Shoe and Book shop, Stornoway, Isle of Lewis, Scotland ?
Will the additional band members be writing fantastic reviews, in the same way they have greeted the new Scott Turrow ?
Where can I buy this book?
Reader’s Rating: 5 / 5
Whenever I read a Dave Barry book I know I’m going to be laughing. This book was no disappointment. Even though he is a Pulitzer Prize winner Mr. Barry still comes off as a regular guy in his writing. The tales in this book are all new with the exception of the tale concerning his colonoscopy which still makes me laugh so hard it hurts. It’s hard enough to choose to have a colonoscopy but to have the doctor be a friend has to really be hard. I don’t reflect it was really a coincidence that his doctor was playing “Dancing Queen” when he went into the procedure room. There is also several parts where he doesn’t want to ‘toot his own horn’ but does so anyway. One time he was recognizable at the airport. Sorry to say they thought he was Carl Hiaasan. I frequently comment on his blog under the moniker nursecindy, and remember him asking some of us lady bloggers a few months ago to question questions which did show up in the chapter titled, “If You Will Just Shut Up, I Can Clarify” A Man Answers Questions From Women. He did answer most of them. Sort of. I like the tales about his dog Lucy and he has several in this book. His tips for visiting Miami are fantastic and I don’t know why the Miami Tourist Bureau has not adoped his slogan, “Come Back To Miami! We Weren’t Shooting At You.”
All in all this is a very amusing book and is much longer than his previous books which really made me pleased. Buy this book but be warned that if anyone questions if they can borrow it from you it will be hard to say no. Especially if it is your spouse or one of your children asking to borrow it. This would also make a wonderful Fathers Day present.
Reader’s Rating: 5 / 5
Here’s an excerpt from the NYT review: “I’ll Mature When I’m Dead” isn’t a quickie: there are 18 humor pieces here, and all but the one about the colonoscopy are new. Second, this isn’t a book to take on trip; it is a trip. Simply consider that the entire “Twilight” series seems to have been written for the prompt purpose of giving Mr. Barry the chance to make fun of lousy writing.”
This is perfect beach reading, or just unadorned “I need to laugh” reading. Dave is one of the few humor writers who has a thinking dimension to his humor. He slyly pokes fun at favorite topics, such as government ineptitude, terrible Hollywood scriptwriting, etc. His parody of a television speech is one of the best things I’ve read in years. Tiny sample — the President is replying to a question in the White House Situation Room. “I’ll let the FBI Director, played by a fading movie star such as William Hurt or Gene Hackman, answer that.” And he has a devastating critique of the English major-run newspaper business which is closer to the mark than anything I’ve read. Oddly, I just finished a book of Mencken’s writings that had a similar critique, only newspapers were successful then. Highly recommended.
Reader’s Rating: 5 / 5
It’s not his best work /
but Dave Barry is amusing /
so it was worth it.
Reader’s Rating: 4 / 5
Are you down in the dumps from reading too many tales about serial killers and dysfunctional families? Is following the calamity du jour in the newspaper or on the Internet building you depressed? Are your kids, spouse, mother-in-law, and boss driving you up the wall? Dread not. There is a cure for what ails you–Dave Barry’s new compilation, “I’ll Mature When I’m Dead.” Warning: Do not read this on the bus or subway. You will laugh until you weep, causing your fellow passengers to stare and/or call 911.
The subtitle is “Dave Barry’s Incredible Tales of Adulthood,” although calling Dave Barry an adult may raise a few eyebrows. Barry is both a Baby Boomer and an overgrown adolescent who offers a fresh and witty take on such diverse topics as the health-care crisis, the high cost of weddings, dance recitals, teenage Vampire novels (watch out Stephenie Meyer, you have competition!), aggressive parents, male-female relationships, fatherhood, and our obsession with social networking. People of a certain age will tell to Barry’s evocative look at the fifties, when cell phones were a distant dream. In fact, “household[s] had one telephone, which weighed eleven pounds and could be used as a murder weapon.” Barry also skewers well loved culture, offering up a speech for “24,” in which Jack Bauer spouts gibberish, shoots a variety of people (even persons who are not his enemies), and recovers quickly from decapitation. Even more hilarious is the leader’s takeoff on “Twilight,” by the aforementioned Meyer, in which a narcissistic but clueless femme fatale brags about how alluring she is to the local vampires and werewolves.
“I’ll Mature When I’m Dead” is not all frivolity. Mixed in with the silliness are valuable life lessons, such as: “Get a colonoscopy, you idiot.” Sure, some of the humor is jejune, but overall, Barry is devastatingly amusing lacking being really moronic. Don’t be surprised if, after finishing this book, you have an irresistible urge to foist it on your friends so that you can guffaw together.
Reader’s Rating: 5 / 5