Description

Book Synopsis
From the Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist comes a celebration of the aging process. Not just Dave's, but that of the whole Baby Boom Generation--those millions of us who set a standard for whining self-absorption that will never be equaled, and who gave birth to such stunning accomplishments as Saturday Night Live!, the New Age movement, and call waiting. Here Dave pinpoints the glaring signs that you've passed the half-century mark:

- You are suddenly unable to read anything written in letters smaller than Marlon Brando.
- You have accepted the fact that you can't possibly be hip. You don't even know if 'hip' is the right word for hip anymore, and you don't care.
- You remember nuclear-attack drills at school wherein you practiced protecting yourself by crouching under your desk, which was apparently made out of some kind of atomic-bomb-proof wood.
- You can't name the secretary of defense, but you can still sing the Mister Clean song.

So pop open a can of Geri

Dave Barry Turns Fifty

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RRP £17.00 – you save £1.70 (10%)

Order before 4pm tomorrow for delivery by Thu 15 Jan 2026.

A Paperback / softback by Dave Barry

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    View other formats and editions of Dave Barry Turns Fifty by Dave Barry

    Publisher: Random House USA Inc
    Publication Date: 31/08/1999
    ISBN13: 9780345431691, 978-0345431691
    ISBN10: 0345431693
    Also in:
    Humour

    Description

    Book Synopsis
    From the Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist comes a celebration of the aging process. Not just Dave's, but that of the whole Baby Boom Generation--those millions of us who set a standard for whining self-absorption that will never be equaled, and who gave birth to such stunning accomplishments as Saturday Night Live!, the New Age movement, and call waiting. Here Dave pinpoints the glaring signs that you've passed the half-century mark:

    - You are suddenly unable to read anything written in letters smaller than Marlon Brando.
    - You have accepted the fact that you can't possibly be hip. You don't even know if 'hip' is the right word for hip anymore, and you don't care.
    - You remember nuclear-attack drills at school wherein you practiced protecting yourself by crouching under your desk, which was apparently made out of some kind of atomic-bomb-proof wood.
    - You can't name the secretary of defense, but you can still sing the Mister Clean song.

    So pop open a can of Geri

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