The CEO of the Sofa FROM OUR EDITORS
The Barnes & Noble Review
In his bestselling Eat the Rich, smart-mouthed Republican commentator P. J. O'Rourke gave a slap in the face to the American economy. In Parliament of Whores, he took a long, hard look at our government, wagging his finger at its inadequacies. Now fans and foes alike can find out what it's like to live with a self-proclaimed "political nut," in his latest, The CEO of the Sofa.
Readers inclined to the political left, beware. With a sharp supporting cast of characters featuring his assistant, Max; his teenage godson, Nick; his wife, two kids, and their teenage babysitter, O'Rourke is at the top of his game, rambling and ranting on every topic from the United Nations to childcare, from Social Security to India -- all the while attempting not to offend his Democrat neighbors, especially "when they own a snow blower that I'm going to need to borrow." From the living room to the bedroom, the garage to the kitchen, O'Rourke explains why managers should refer to baby books in dealing with everyone from the regional sales director to the president of the United States (" 'You control him,' says Your One-Year-Old, 'by controlling the surroundings and by just not having too many things around that will get him into difficulty...' Interns for one."); and spreads the truth about how Social Security works ("There is no money in the Social Security trust fund, and there never was. Money is a government IOU. Government can't create a trust fund by saving its own IOUs anymore than I could create a trust fund by writing 'I get a chunk of cash when I turn 21' on a piece of paper").
With hallmark acidity, O'Rourke spares no rancor for Hillary Clinton, whom he calls a "she-ape from New York State," analyzing the arguments for why she may or may not be a dunce (Argument Contra Stupidity: "Partner in most prestigious law firm in Arkansas" / Argument Pro: "Examine phrase 'Most prestigious law firm in Arkansas' "); and tearing into her book, It Takes a Village ("Nearly everything about It Takes a Village is objectionable, from the title -- an ancient African proverb which seems to have its origins in the ancient African kingdom of Hallmarkcardia -- to the acknowledgements page where Mrs. Clinton fails to acknowledge that some poor journalism professor named Barbara Feinman did most of the work").
In a section divided into months from September 2000 to August 2001, readers are treated to a look at the humble home life of a political nut -- with glimpses of wine tasting with Chris Buckley, driving lessons with his godson, and his assistant Max's itemized update on current celebrities ("Just Between Max and PJ: [Will] Smith is talented, has a sense of humor, and you would, in fact, even like his music. Do not let this get out or it will ruin his career"). But while The CEO of the Sofa will give even the liberal a belly laugh at times, O'Rourke is not for the faint of heart, advising his readers, "It's important to remember that Democrats aren't just crazy, they're evil." In other words, if you can't take the heat, stay out of P. J. O'Rourke's kitchen. (Elise Vogel)
FROM THE PUBLISHER
P. J. O'Rourke's reporting has taken him to all the troubled corners of the world. Now, in his most challenging adventure, he journeys to the heart of that truly harrowing place -- his own home. After years of ranting to anyone who will listen, America's preeminent political humorist fearlessly turns to those who won't. He teaches his godson about the UN: "A nice enough place until it was discovered by foreigners." And he teaches his daughter not to use dirty words (especially "junior senator from New York"). Ensconced on the throne of the domestic board room -- but not allowed to put his feet on the cushions -- the CEO bravely exposes everything from the dirty secrets of the New Economy to the similar mysteries in the new baby's diapers. Uproarious and incisive, The CEO of the Sofa chronicles a year in the life of America's funniest writer as he fights evil, injustice, and absurdity with the kid gloves off ... and the oven mitts on.
SYNOPSIS
P.J. embarks on a mission to the most frightening place of all�his own home, where he faces a toddler who wants a cell phone, a freelance career writing articles like �Chewing-Mouth Dogs Bring Hope to People with Eating Disorders,� and neighbors who smell like democrats.� Undaunted, P.J.
FROM THE CRITICS
Publishers Weekly
Not content to rest on his laurels, the bestselling humorist O'Rourke (All the Trouble in the World, etc.) instead settles back on his caustic couch to offer a wide-angled worldview from his own living room, his salon of sarcasm. He introduces readers to his assistant, friends, family and smart-aleck babysitter, as he reflects on such topics as cell phones ("People are willing to interrupt anything, including hiding under the bed, to answer a cell phone"), Christmas catalogues, Instant Messaging, MP3s, Nasdaq, toddlers, TV and how the "Gettysburg Address" would have turned out if written on an iMac. On a serious note, he praises the "philosophical legerdemain" of Hunter Thompson's Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. He also reviews the "profound cogitations" of Hillary Clinton's 1995 It Takes a Village ("Some kinds of stupidity cannot be faked"), compares Vegas's Venetian resort to the real Venice ("Will video poker ever inspire a novella by Thomas Mann?") and contemplates the results of bias-free language ("What a piece of work is person!"). For "senior-management types," one hilarious chapter explains youth culture and current celebs, including Moby, Eminem, Carson Daly, Hilary Swank and Beck: "Beck dropped out of school after junior high so we can't blame the dot-com mess on him personally." Though his vitriolic wit is couched in humor that elicits the gamut from giggles to guffaws, O'Rourke never cushions its impact. The comedic crescendo is his centerpiece, a summary of mankind's achievements at millennium's end. This insightful (yet also funny) essay alone is worth the price of admission. (Sept.) Forecast: The 150,000 first printing is backed up with an appealing cover photo, a $150,000promotional budget, a national ad campaign, an 18-city author tour plus online promotion. O'Rourke will undoubtedly find himself on the bestseller list again. Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information.
Library Journal
In The CEO of the Sofa, O'Rourke shows that while he may be having trouble remembering the story of his life, he certainly hasn't lost one iota of his wit. He uses this book to point out, with heaps of sarcasm, the horrors of the cell phone, the UN, MP3 files, and childbirth. When his alterego, the political nut, takes over, you know which way the chad will fall as he discusses the absurdities of recent political history. O'Rourke has a gift for taking a mundane assignment and turning it into the funniest story you've ever heard and he does this nonstop. His tale on traveling through India is worth the price of the program. And who else would think of doing an essay on blind-drunk wine tasting? The author's humor works on both sides of the political aisle, and to make it even better, Dick Hill's performance is perfect. Highly recommended for all libraries we can all use a laugh these days. Theresa Connors, Arkansas Tech Univ., Russellville Copyright 2002 Cahners Business Information.
AudioFile
"This brings me to the other little problem I'm having with the story of my life . . . remembering it." So remarks the last proud martini-swilling, cigar-chomping, wife-baiting Republican alive in the world today. O'Rourke's combination of arrogance and self-deprecation is funny on the page; Dick Hill makes it choicer still. Hill won an Audie for serious nonfiction, but his AudioFile Golden Voice is best suited for humor. The man could render a phone directory hilarious. Some of the magazine essays collected here are slightly dated, as when O'Rourke jokes about Pakistan's nuclear weapons. Often enough--as in his discussion of legalized drugs--the arguments presented are not just amusing, but also truly provocative. Who says thinking can't be fun? B.H.C. Winner of AudioFile Earphones Award (c) AudioFile 2002, Portland, Maine
Kirkus Reviews
O'Rourke (Eat the Rich, 1998, etc.), sharpest of the right-wing comic writers-not a populous gang, to be sure-this time stays at home to deliver his caustic, frequently malevolent commentary. The stock characters who help the this domestic Republican Dagwood launch miscellaneous brickbats at "dupes," "bakeheads," "nooky-moochers," "hair farmers," "bird-brains," and a "hay-breath" include a clever spouse, assistant Max, a couple of offspring, and a teenage neighbor. There are a dozen chapters with monthly headings, though there's little relation to monthly events, in which O'Rourke unloads on disparate topics. Of course, there's the UN, Social Security, and Third Way Economics (with help from the Cato Institute). There's much ad hominem about the Clintons. (He alludes to the distaff Clinton as "that she-ape from New York State.") There are digressions regarding drugs, booze, art, and business management as well as connubial and parental matters. For no special reason, there is also a long, patently recycled piece about India. Venice as presented in Las Vegas is preferred to the Italian original. He proposes a campaign for a politically correct cause ("Slogan: �Alzheimer's-Fergedaboutdit!' ") and waxes kind of enthusiastic about cigars (though a beat behind the craze). Throughout, O'Rourke is as self-assured as any New York mayor, grandly dissing any ideology insufficiently libertarian. Sometimes it's quite funny and sometimes, like the wine-tasting parody, it has no nose, no legs-it's simply jejune. One natural target for any other professional political japester, George W. Bush, is never approached-but no surprise there. By the final entry, for August 2001, the rant is no more thanbile. Conservatively speaking, O'Rourke's current patchwork is not up to his previous entries. But as Dave Barry's goofy, evil twin, he's still funnier than Pat Buchanan or Arianna Huffington. First printing of 150,000; $150,000 ad/promo; author tour
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