Dave Barry Is from Mars and Venus - Couverture souple

Introduction
 
First, a few words about the title.
 
It isn’t easy, coming up with book titles. A lot of the really good ones are taken. Thin Thighs in 30 Days, for example. Also The Bible.
 
Another restriction was that the publisher wanted a title with my name in it. Over the years, most of my book titles have had my name in them (Dave Barry Turns 40, Dave Barry Turns 41, Dave Barry Develops a Nasal Polyp, etc.). I realize this sounds egotistical, but it’s not my idea. I’d be a lot happier if the book titles had a name with more appeal to the mass public, like “Stephen King” or “The Beatles.” If it wasn’t for the potential legal hassles, this book would be called something like Develop Washboard Abs in One Hour with John Grisham and Madonna (As Seen on Oprah).
 
Anyway, the first title actually considered for this book was Another Damn Dave Barry Book. I liked that one, because it was punchy, yet at the same time it said absolutely nothing. But then Crown changed its mind and decided against this title, presumably on the grounds that the word “damn” would offend some people, who would therefore not buy the book. Of course you could argue that this was a good reason to use the title, because people who’d be offended by the word “damn” would probably suffer cerebral hemorrhages if they read the book’s actual contents.
 
But Another Damn Dave Barry Book was definitely out. Instead, Crown wanted to use Dave Barry Exposes Himself, featuring a cover photo of me wearing only an overcoat, which I would be holding open to display my body, with my strategic parts covered by the title (insert your font-size joke here). After a certain amount of hemming and hawing, as well as faxing, I rejected this title. My argument was that the cover concept was a stale old sight gag, but the real reason was that I didn’t want to expose my body I do not have Washboard Abs; I have Stealth Abs, protected from detection by a strategic layer of radar-absorbing flab.
 
For a while my editor at Crown, Betty Prashker, tried to argue me into accepting Dave Barry Exposes Himself.
 
“The way we see it,” she said, “every time you write something, you’re exposing yourself.”
 
This is the kind of thing editors can say, secure in the knowledge that they won’t be appearing on a book cover wearing only an open overcoat.
 
But I was firm in my opposition. And thus began a spate of title brainstorming. My agent, Al Hart, came up with what I thought was a winner—Dave Barry Wants to Chew Your Hair—but Crown was not receptive. Crown also rejected one of mine that I thought beautifully captured the spirit not only of this book, but virtually my entire body of work: Armpit Noises from the Heart. I also had no luck with:
 
Who Are You Calling Immature?
By Dave “Booger” Barry
 
Here are some of the other titles that didn’t make it:
 
While You Were Holding Down a Real Job,
Dave Barry Was Writing This
A Funny Title Goes Here
Dave Barry Lowers His Standards Even More
How to Remain Sophomoric in the Coming Millennium
This Book Is All True
And Other Lies by Dave Barry
This Book Has Nothing to Do with the O.J. Trial
Humor Writers Who Run with Wolves
The Wisdom of Dave Barry
Would Be a Really Short Book, So We Printed This One Instead
 
And of course:
 
Moby Dave
 
But none of these was acceptable to everybody. Finally, just when it was beginning to look as though we’d never come up with a title, and the book would never get published—which would be a tragedy for civilization—we agreed on Dave Barry Is from Mars and Venus. It combines the two most essential elements of a classic book title:
 
Nobody has any idea what it means.
 
I don’t have to get naked for the cover.
 
In addition to a title, this book also has contents, and I’d like to say a few words about them. Mostly what you will find in this book are short essays on a wide variety of important topics that are of concern to the informed, concerned citizen, such as turkey rectums. Because of the breadth of topics I cover in my oeuvre,1 people often ask me what methodology I use in my research and writing. Here it is:
 
After a hearty breakfast, I scan the Miami Herald and other major daily newspapers, looking for important news developments and making mental notes. (“Huh!” is my exact phrasing.)
 
Lunch.
 
I fire up my laptop computer and, after some thought, type out the subject, or “topic idea,” of an essay, such as: “Robot cockroaches.”
 
Nap.
 
I fire my laptop computer back up and start “fleshing out” my topic idea by developing possible themes for discussion and amplification (“Robot cockroaches—a bad idea?”).
 
Lunch.
 
At this point, heeding the old maxim that “all work and no play makes Jack Nicholson try to kill his family with an ax,” I generally knock off for the day, only to return the next day and start the whole “grind” all over again, taking a harshly critical look at my work output from the day before, revising and polishing it, not stopping until the words convey precisely the message that I have formulated in my mind’s eye (“Robot cockroaches—a bad idea? Or what?”).
 
Sometimes I also do field research. For example, in researching the essays in this book, I climbed a giant scary tree in a beaver-infested area; experienced Total Brain Lockup while competing on the TV show Wheel of Fortune; played the role of a corpse in an opera in Eugene, Oregon; got hit by a car; nearly drowned with the U.S. Synchronized Swimming National Team; became the only person I know of to be sent to the emergency room with a laser-tag injury; threw up in an F-16 exceeding the speed of sound; and, of course, set fire to my toilet.
 
I’m not trying to impress you; it’s my job to do this kind of research. I’m no different from other leading columnists such as George Will or William Safire, both of whom set fire to their toilets on virtually a daily basis.
 
Why do we do these things? I can’t speak for Bill and George, but as for myself, I do them because I believe—call me an idealist if you want—that even in this incredibly complex global society, one lone person, using only his mind and the power of information, can make a difference.
 
And I definitely do not want that person to be me.
 

Dave Barry was born in Armonk, New York, in 1947 and has been steadily growing older ever since, without ever actually reaching maturity.  He attended public schools, where he distinguished himself by not getting in nearly as much trouble as he would have if authorities had been aware of everything.  He is proud to have been elected Class Clown by the Pleasantville High School in 1965.
        
Barry went to Haverford College, where he was an English major and wrote lengthy scholarly papers filled with sentences that even he did not understand.  He graduated in 1969 and eventually got a job with a newspaper named, this is the real name, the Daily Local News, in West Chester, Pennsylvania, where he covered a series of incredibly dull municipal meetings, some of which are still going on.
        
In 1975, Barry joined Burger Associates, a consulting firm that teaches effective writing to business persons.  He spent nearly eight years trying to get various businesspersons to for-God's-sake-stop-writing-things like "Enclosed please find the enclosed enclosure," but he eventually realized that it was hopeless. So, in 1983 he took a job at the Miami Herald, and he has been there ever since, although he never answers the phone.  In 1988, he won the Pulitzer Prize for commentary, pending a recount.  His column appears in several hundred newspapers, yet another indication of the worsening drug crisis.
        
Barry is the author of numerous best-sellers, including the recent Dave Barry in Cyberspace (Crown 1996).  He lives in Miami, Florida.