I Hate Everyone… Starting with Me

July 9, 2012
Irreverent comedienne Rivers (Men Are Stupidâ¦And They Like Big Boobs: A Woman's Guide to Beauty Through Plastic Surgery) is back with this sometimes funny and frequently offensive treatise on everything she hates, and as the title promises, she spares nothing and no oneânot even herself. Victims of her vitriol include "women who think that giving birth is some unique achievement," "ugly children," Christian Bale (though she insists it's "nothing personal"), Annie Oakley, nudists, men without manners, and plenty others. She even takes on interfaith marriages, misleading state superlatives ("For example, New Jersey is nicknamed âThe Garden State.' Really? Have you ever smelled New Jersey?"), the Boy Scouts of America, and "people who complain that âJoan says "fuck" too much.'" Taken in very, very small doses, Rivers's aggressively acerbic wit can be hilarious, but the unbridled cynicism will likely wear on anyone who isn't Joan Rivers. Photos.

May 15, 2012
A humorous tirade on nearly everything and everyone. Rivers (Men Are Stupid...And They Like Big Boobs, 2008, etc.) is back with an entertaining rant on how she hates nearly everything and everyone, especially herself. Nothing is sacred to Rivers as she delivers one-liners on the whole shebang of human existence. From birthing a child, having sex, getting married, growing old and dying, to living in cities, eating in restaurants and travelling to foreign lands, the author gives readers her unusual perspective on each scenario. On manners: "I hate people who blow their nose at the dinner table and then look in their hankie. What do they think they're going to find?" On dating younger men: "I'll never be a cougar. I don't like 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?" On cities: "I hate San Francisco because I not only left my heart there but my hairdresser." Show business, nature, even the slogans each state uses to promote itself...none are immune to Rivers' often-caustic jesting. Relentless in her pursuit, the author is sure to offend everyone at some point in this book, regardless of the comedic intent. The only thing missing is the sound of a drum roll and cymbals to feel as though one is sitting in a nightclub watching a live comedy marathon. The book is best read in small, random batches, with a large martini in hand. A raucous, biting look at life.

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