I'm too stupid to write a book review. My friend George Snyder has written a fabulous new book entitled Down the Garden Path, and I'd love to be able to recommend it. But I have absolutely no idea how.

First, I question people who recommend things put out by their friends. I mean, it's a slippery slope. Today you're exaggerating slightly, and tomorrow you're Jimmy Fallon telling 14 million people that Jack and Jill is the best thing ever put on film.

Second, I don't regularly review books here. If I had exactly one chance to tell you to buy a book, in fact, I'd say pick up Pride and Prejudice, and George can go fuck himself. Which I'd rather not say, since I'm one of those folks who prefers nice surprises in the mail.

And last, I don't know your circumstances. I don't know if you have $13.95 to spend on something that isn't an electric bill. I'm still peeved at a PBS pledge break telling me that the $120 annual membership was less than I'd spend for lunch. I sat there with my mouth open thinking, "What, has somebody really ordered 84 burritos at Taco Bell?" I'm constantly irritated by those clueless boobs who claim, as a recent Broadway reviewer did, that Hugh Jackman's smile alone is worth a $150 ticket. Because we had more than a few of these scenes while I was growing up:

ME: Mommy, I'm starving. What's for dinner?

MOM: Sweetie, we can't afford food today. (WAVING A PHOTO IN FRONT OF MY FACE.) But get a load of those dimples!

So, here's what I'll say. George and I became friends because I loved his writing; I don't love his writing because we're friends. If I reviewed books regularly, I'd tell you to go buy Down the Garden Path, because it's smarter and funnier than anything I've read in years, recalling everybody from Evelyn Waugh to Paul Rudnick. It's self-assured and effortless and I get a little sadder with every page I turn, knowing I'm a year away from his next book.

And if money's an object, well, cut back on food.

Hey, it worked for me.