Dear Andy Kaufman, I Hate Your Guts!

In 1979, Andy Kaufman wrestled a woman on Saturday Night Live as part of his act. Proclaiming himself the "Inter-Gender Wrestling Champion of the World" and taking on a classic villain wrestler persona, he offered to shave his head and pay a $1,000 prize to any woman who could pin him (he later also said she could marry him).

This book collects some of the hundreds of letters sent to Kaufman by women who wanted to take him up on the challenge. Some seem to be in on the joke, others not so much. It's amazing to see the variety of correspondents, from young girls ("I can beat you easily...P.S. I'm only ten") to tough broads to sex kittens, as well as the range in tone, from polite ("If I'm chosen I'll do my very best") to lonely ("It'll probably be the closest I get to a man all year") to vitriolic ("I'll give you a tracheotomy with my bare hands!"). He also received a few letters from men ("I've seen bald women in porno mags and they're kind of kinky!").






I love Andy Kaufman, these letters are hilarious, and the whole book looks awesome. Great stuff all around.

All My Friends Are Dead by Avery Monsen and Jory John

Dave gave this to me as a stocking stuffer for Christmas because it reminded him of the dinosaurs we visited about a month ago. It's a tiny little book, perfectly sized for the aforementioned purpose.

It takes about two minutes to read, but it is a two minute roller coaster ride of hilarity. (Sorry for the lame description.) The back of the book describes it as the "saddest funny book you'll ever read", which is pretty true. At every page I find myself laughing and "ohhh"ing at the same time. See below...




I like the dinosaur end papers.

Saddies by David Stromberg

While interning for Soft Skull Press, I worked their table at the Small Press Book Fair, which more or less consisted of Soft Skull, Akashic Books, and a bunch of self-publishing weirdos. Seriously. The author of this book was tabling nearby and I ended up striking up an awkward conversation with him, which resulted in my buying this teeny little book of scribbled drawings with oddly humorous captions. (Please note that I was not referring to him when I made the remark about "self-publishing weirdos.")

After thumbing through the book again, it's not quite as funny as I remember. (Sorry, David Stromberg.) There is a definite obsession with Elvis wigs, and wigs in general.

This is the best one, I think.

I actually swore that I saw this guy working at Penguin years later. I always meant to stop and ask him if he was the author of Saddies but thought it might come off seeming a little weird, and now that guy, whoever he was, doesn't work there anymore anyway.