I own a paperback copy of this book. As far as joke books go, it's a genuine relic, stuffed with the material I'm guessing was stale by at least a decade or two when the book was published in 1975. With that said, the collection consistently creates a cultural atmosphere, like a museum diorama of a circa-1961 lounge where men in carefully-considered suits smoke cigars and avoid pain.
- I'm a stooge to no one man. I free-lance.
- The room they gave me was so small every time I bent over I rearranged the furniture.
- You can tell the age of a horse by the teeth. But who wants to bite a horse?