when I say without Satan and his many evil minions, we wouldn't have such a wealth of great targets to aim at. I also must thank Patrick Campbell for his fabulous artwork that will make you laugh out loud later on. But I can't thank Patrick without mentioning his wife Kerry and their son Wyatt, who stopped by the apartment and my office many times when Patrick and I were working. I must also thank Wyatt for puking on the kitchen floor instead of the living room rug. And last but not least I'd like to thank my editor Josh Kendall for his bright advice and deft suggestions and all the lively and lovely girls from Penguin who first came into the offices at Apostle-my production company-and said "you gotta write a book." They sparked my interest. I have to thank two key people at Apostle as well-Bartow Church and my assistant Anna Urban, both of whom I drove nuts with requests for celebrity post-autopsy toxicology results and lists of political trivia etcetera etcetera. And I must thank the one man in particular who made this whole thing happen: my production partner Jim Serpico. After the Penguin girls had pitched their idea and left, Jim said "if you're ever gonna write a book, this is the time and these are the people." Then he kept kicking my ass to make my deadlines and reading drafts and telling me what made him laugh and what didn't and telling me time and time again that I only had such and such a number of months left and why don't you push that subject a little further and when are you gonna have that chapter done and you only have eight weeks you only have three weeks you only have four more days and I think this cover is the best cover and I'll tell you why. He's the hardest-working guy I have ever met and he's funny and he's sharp and he's really really really smart and he's made every project we've ever worked on better simply by being involved and God how I hate him. Thanks, Jimmy. You slave-driving sunuvabitch. I'd also like to thank my recently departed Irish Wolfhound Clancy-the biggest dog in the history of the world. Let's put it this way-when I had a cup of coffee in the morning, so did he. THAT'S how big he was. And I gotta give kudos to my new dog Lulu-she picked up right where Clancy left off. Only she doesn't drink coffee. But she did sit at my feet under the desk each day and look up at me yearningly with her big brown eyes, as if to say-when the fuck is this book gonna be done, asshole?
It's done, Lu. Let's go get us some squirrels.
PROLOGUE
Put this book down.
Right now.
Do not buy it.
Stop reading.
Now.
Why are you still reading this?
Okay.
I warned you.
Now I will beg you, beseech you-in short, do everything possible in the limited format of this medium to get you to buy any other book within reach right now (if this book was a gift and you are at home or on a plane or sitting in a hotel room somewhere I would suggest grabbing a newspaper or a magazine or even your laptop) because this book is going to piss you off.
If you are a woman, you will soon be livid.
If you are a man, you are going to be filled with a burning rage.
If you are a kid-meaning anyone under the age of eighteen-you will soon be filled with shock and awe.
Scratch that.
If you are under the age of twenty-five you will soon be filled with shock and awe.
If you are a fan of Oprah-good luck.
If you hate Oprah or Oprah tends to drive you insane-you too will need some assistance.
This is not a book for the faint of heart or the politically correct or the weak or the extreme right wing or the left of center leftist Democrat or nuns or any other members of any organized religion or New York Yankee fans.
I am warning you-I am not here to make you feel all warm and fuzzy or superior to everyone else or all soft and gooey inside. I am here to debunk and declassify and otherwise hold up a brutally honest mirror to our fat, ugly, lazy American selves.
I am here to explain how we can and must thin the herd and extricate the stupid and eradicate the obese and take Rush Limbaugh's head and make a bong out of it.
Senators,