Job Jabs
by
Book Details
About the Book
Wicked job cartoons. Penetrating parodies and delicious illustrated jokes. The jabs and jeers of hilarious office humor. Snooty sneers and snotty jeers. Sophisticated spoofs. Amusing caricatures and satires. Job Jabs takes a riotous romp through follies, foul-ups, and daily frustrations of the corporate world. It’s both fun and funny. The extra-large cartoons will almost certainly trigger memories that will make you chuckle, chortle, smile broadly, and grin wickedly, as you recall wild, wooly, and wacky happenings on the job – to say nothing of the outrageous stuff that was sometimes so stupid or laughable it took your breath away. It will help you vent your frustrations on your current job, too, and tickle your funnybone in the bargain (from the humerous bone to the humorous bone to funny bone – that’s the way it developed).
The Job Jabs
cartoons are illustrated by some of the greatest drawings ever produced by
master artists of the past. Many are
comic masterpieces in their own right.
A few classics of the “office humor” are also included, usually edited
or updated.
An interesting warning: do not expect to laugh out
loud when you read Job Jabs by
yourself! Laughter is 99% a social
event, almost a reflex, and demands the presence of at least one other
person. Huge inner amusement at the
ribbing and roasting of idiotic corporate buffoons is all that you can expect
when you read Job Jabs by yourself, but that should be more than enough. As Sigmund Freud observed: “an inner smile
will suffice.” And he should know,
because – surprise, surprise – he wrote more on humor than he did on
sexuality. So, if Job Jabs does not
produce a lot of entertaining amusement and a great big bunch of inner smiles,
you may need to see a therapist. Just
be sure to buy him a copy to analyze before your first session!
About the Author
Bill Parker was born in Akron, Ohio (so long ago it’s downright embarrassing). Within three weeks he rebelled and instructed his parents to move to Boston, since the smell of burning rubber was getting to him. He left his third-grade school one day to go home, get his birth certificate, and prove to his teacher that his name was not William, but BILL. ("Bad Day at Black Rock."). He missed becoming an Eagle Scout by one Merit Badge, for cooking, because his baked potatoes always had sand clear through them. So much for childhood stuff. He joined the Marines ten days before the end of World War II. He was shot at in anger only by a Marine guard at the gate of the Marine Recruit Depot in San Diego, because he was on the back of a motorcycle being driven through the gate without stopping, by a drunken sergeant. It was two rides in one: first and last. Bill graduated from Nebraska Wesleyan University in Lincoln, Nebraska, only after the school authorities threatened to withhold his diploma until he and his cohorts on Senior Skip Day had removed a goat from the third floor of the Administration Building. This was hard to do, since you can lead a goat "up" anywhere--but it is almost impossible to lead him "down" (We did not find this out until the issue of "down" came up, so to speak.) He worked for some large companies: Parents magazine and Bantam Books in New York; Capitol Records in Los Angles; he ended up slaving for a number of advertising agencies in L.A. as a copywriter. Bill won a contest on the early "Dating Game," and lost on a national quiz show, NBC’s "Sale of the Century," but had fun on both. He is a member of MENSA, and his cartoons appear regularly in "ToteMs," their Pacific Northwest newsletter. He is married to Valentina, (a Russian teacher of English who knows more about formal English structure than he does), and lives in Lynnwood, Washington, a suburb of Seattle. On the Web at