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The fourth book in my series, Lather, Rage, Repeat is the biggest yet, and includes dozens of my very best columns from the past six years, including fan favorites “Bass Players”, “Sex Robots”, “Lawnmower Parents”, “Cuddle Parties” and many more. It makes a killer holiday gift for anyone who loves to laugh and has been feeling cranky since about November, 2016.

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Also available at Chaucer’s Books in Santa Barbara, and of course Amazon.com

‘Unpregnant’: Born of Political Rage

Talking with Authors of New Abortion Road-Trip Comedy Novel

It was 2011, and writer Jenni Hendriks was in her car, creeping through Los Angeles traffic, when a news story on NPR enraged her. South Dakota was imposing a 72-hour waiting period for any residents seeking an abortion — and that was in a state, mind you, where there was only one clinic providing the service in the first place.

“I just thought, these women are already driving hundreds of miles to get access to this! I was super pissed off,” said Hendriks. She called her writing partner Ted Caplan and blurted, “I know what we’re writing next! It’s a road trip — a road trip with your best friend.”

Continue reading ‘Unpregnant’: Born of Political Rage

My Crisis of Comedy

In unfunny era, comedian talks me off the Ledge of No Laughter

All I ever really wanted to do was to make people laugh: Strangers in the PTA meeting at my son’s new school. Colleagues in a supposed-to-be-serious work meeting. The poor lady doing my mammogram. I especially love it when readers tell me they snorted so abruptly at the local café while reading this column that latte foam spewed from their nose. Propriety be damned, I sincerely believe it’s always the right time for humor.

Except … maybe … right now?

Continue reading My Crisis of Comedy

The Bullet-Proof Backpack

It’s the Tactical Assault Accessory All the Cool Kids Are Wearing

Aaaaand that was “Pumped Up Kicks” by Foster the People, followed by the classic Boomtown Rats ballad “I Don’t Like Mondays.” We’re just two songs into our Calamity-on-Campus 3 o’clock joyride here on K-I-D-Z FM, where the fear — haha! I mean the fun! — never ever stops. We’ll be back, faster than a bullet, with Pearl Jam and “Jeremy” right after a word from our sponsor. Don’t touch that dial! …

[Fade in ad spot.]

“Parents, remember back in your day, when all you needed for a successful start to the school year were some sharpened No. 2 pencils, a bitchin’ Trapper Keeper, and a brown paper bag that you could origami into sweet textbook covers?

“Well, those days are over, my friends.

“Ours is a dangerous world today where your adorable grade-schooler is as likely to be stung on the playground by a 9mm brass jacketed hollow point* as a common honeybee.

“Mass shootings are up — way up — as the people in Dayton, El Paso, and Gilroy will tell you. School campuses are no longer the safe, innocent spaces they used to be. That makes parenting tough. We get it! I mean, when you usher your nervous child into their classroom on the first day of school, hug them, and promise them it’ll be okay … and that you’ll see them at 3 o’clock … dammit, you want to mean it.

“And now you can! Thanks to the Bulletproof Backpack™.

Continue reading The Bullet-Proof Backpack

My Crisis of Comedy

In unfunny era, comedian talks me off the Ledge-of-No-Laughter

Pictured: Katie Goodman

All I ever really wanted to do was to make people laugh: Strangers in the PTA meeting at my son’s new school. Colleagues in a supposed-to-be-serious work meeting. The poor lady doing my mammogram. I especially love it when readers tell me they snorted so abruptly at the local café while reading this column that latte foam spewed from their nose. Propriety be damned, I sincerely believe it’s always the right time for humor.

Except … maybe … right now?

Continue reading My Crisis of Comedy

Pink Tax Got You Blue?

For Many Products, Women Pay More than Men

What could I do with $64, 843?

I could buy an all-wheel-drive Performance Model 3 Tesla — it’s the cheap kind, but still. I could sponsor 133 kids at the border for a year through Save the Children. I could get a massage at a fancy spa every week for nearly a decade, or have PoopSenders.com mail 1,666 gallons of steaming elephant excrement to the White House — any of which would give me nearly pornographic pleasure.

I’m told $64,843 is about what I’ve handed over so far in my lifetime to the Pink Tax — the upcharge added onto goods and services that are marketed specifically to women. From toys to clothing to grooming products, a 2015 study by the New York City Department of Consumer Affairs showed that women pay 7 percent more than men do for similar items.

Continue reading Pink Tax Got You Blue?

My columns are collected in three lovely books, which make a SPLENDID gift for wives, friends, book clubs, hostesses, and anyone who likes to laugh!
Keep Your Skirt On
Wife on the Edge
Broad Assumptions
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