Showing results for "The Media Book" in Satire

We've all been there. One minute, you're sprawled out on your bed, minding our own business, and the next, you're lying in the back seat of your best friend's car as she races you to the ER. And not the closest one either. No. You're headed to the one 50 miles farther out, because the one five minutes away is where you start your residency next week. So there you are, lying in cubicle nine, hoping like hell that the doctor about to examine you isn't young, sexy, or male. Of course, he's all three.

When Lexi Blake was 12 years old, a fortune teller gave her the following cryptic message: In your 30th year, once the dog jumps over you, your life will change in the most unexpected ways.

Comic book artist Mike Mason arrives at San Diego Comic-Con seeking sanctuary with other fans and creators - and maybe to reunite with his ex - but when his rival is found murdered, he becomes the prime suspect. To clear his name, Mike will have to navigate every corner of the con, from zombie obstacle courses and cosplay flash mobs to intrusive fans and obsessive collectors, in the process unraveling a dark secret behind one of the industry's most legendary creators.

Faith has a lot on her plate as she attempts to solve a Depression Era murder while trying to clear her husband’s name after he is accused of a heartless theft. Poignant, suspenseful, puzzling, and all-around marvelous, The Body in the Gazebo is cozy culinary mystery at its very best—complete with a resolution that would make Dame Agatha Christie proud.

Since its publication in 1842, Dead Souls has been celebrated as a supremely realistic portrait of provincial Russian life and as a splendidly exaggerated tale; as a paean to the Russian spirit and as a remorseless satire of imperial Russian venality, vulgarity, and pomp. As Gogol's wily antihero, Chichikov, combs the back country wheeling and dealing for "dead souls"—deceased serfs who still represent money to anyone sharp enough to trade in them—we are introduced to a Dickensian cast of peasants, landowners, and conniving petty officials.

Ben who rides dragons is twice a hero. He's defeated all kinds of demons and learned how to transform into a chimera. That's powerful stuff for a mere cat. Oh, how proud his ancestors would be if they saw him today. In fact, he's far too powerful for Astravar, the mighty warlock and Ben's nemesis, who can't stand the thought of being defeated by a mere moggie. But now he has allied with the other warlocks and together they have a plan to destroy the kingdom.

Against all odds, Ben the Bengal cat defeated the demon dragon and sent it back to the Seventh Dimension. Consequently, Ben's nemesis, the evil warlock Astravar, is ever so slightly miffed. A demon dragon was meant to take over the realm for Astravar, while the warlock stayed in a tower with a nice cup of tea and watched the conquest from afar. But it didn't quite work that way . . .

Ninni lives for pranking the crap out of K-Pop. She'd do it with him 24/7 - sorry: Do it to him. As in prank him. Yep, their thing has everything to do with pranks. Nothing to do with an insanity-in-a-bucket attraction. It's not like he's drop-dead gorgeous and has infinite charisma or anything. His brain isn't Donald Duck, Einstein, and Shakespeare in one mischievous swirl either.

Saki has always followed the Blossom girls' house rules: Thou shalt prank the Dudes, thy beautiful fraternity neighbors, all day, every day; thou shalt not lose thy heart to them: no fraternizing with the arch-frat-enemy. Easy enough, right? Minor complication one: Saki gets warm all over whenever she sees Picasso, the dark-haired, hyper-sensual painting student with bright grey eyes, over there in the Dude den. Minor complications two through five: Picasso is head-over-heels for Saki, has an obsessive personality, and craves working her up. He brushes up against her.

Jim and Kram are back in their second hilarious romp around their secluded Southeast Alaskan island. With a serial killer at large (a cereal serial killer, to be more accurate), an unlucky entrepreneur with an out-of-control facial tic, and the nephew of a notorious crime boss setting up shop on the island, Lieutenant Jim Wekle will have his work cut out for him.

Paradise is supposed to be a short-term stop. Until Thor shows up. Okay, not the real Thor. But replace the hammer with a dog who won't stop barking, and Adam Thomsen is definitely long-haired Thor's doppelganger. Too bad for me, he's decided I'm the villain in his story. Too bad for him, his scowl is no match for my super-powered positivity.

D’abord présentées sur les ondes d’Énergie puis de Rouge FM, les chroniques de Rosalie Bonenfant ont conquis des dizaines de milliers d’auditeurs. Tantôt mordantes et cyniques, tantôt intimistes et sensibles, les « humeurs » de Rosalie ne rejoignent pas que les gens de sa génération mais tous les Québécois, de l’adolescent au boomer… à l’exception de quelques « matantes » indignées par son ton direct ou la crudité d’un thème ou d’un mot.

A sexy rockstar walking into your hotel room sounds like a dream come true. When you're in the middle of some serious self-pleasure like I was, it's a freaking nightmare. It gets worse. What I thought was my room...was actually his. I'd just given last year's hottest new talent a performance worthy of my own Grammy. Now everyone is talking about the girl who got her rocks off in Brix Wilson's hotel room. Nobody knows I'm that girl and it's going to stay that way. It's not like I'm going to run into him again, right? Wrong.

Life was going well for 25-year-old repo agent Andrea Sloan. She hadn't stumbled across any more naked dead guys at work, and her love life was pretty much wonderful. When she picked up a part-time job working at the mall for some extra cash as an elf, she never imagined she'd witness Santa gunned down in the parking lot. Just like that, Andi became tangled with friends and foes from her past in a race to find Santa's stolen bag of cash before Christmas.

Ben Riggs says he loves me. He says he hasn't stopped thinking about me since he broke my heart and chased me out of town all those years ago. I say, liar liar pants on fire. And boy, do those bright yellow, flame-resistant fireman pants look good on him. I'm aching to feel those big, rough hands clenching on my hips and to collect on the illicit promises burning in his dark blue eyes. Self-control goes up in flames every time he flashes that arrogant smile. So I give in - because a woman has needs. (Am I right, ladies?) He can have my body, but my heart is off-limits.

Vodka should come with a warning: mixing with karaoke will make you do stupid s--t, like sing that song you wrote when you were 14 about the boy who broke your heart. At least he didn't see it. Oh wait. He did. I should've just stayed home. The only reason I came was to stop Lily from doing something stupid, like crash her ex-boyfriend's wedding. When I open my hotel room door to find Adam standing there, that sexy smirk tells me he's hasn't changed. He's still the same arrogant a-----e who made my childhood hell.

Put your hand up if you've ever moved to a new place and found a wild animal loose in your attic, and your former high school sweetheart shows up, looking just as incredibly handsome as the day he kissed you? *Puts hand up.* Just me? Then I probably don't need to tell you that all I can think about is how I'd like to kiss him right now . . . and that is a big NOPE. Because I'm a single mom, and my whole life is in a state of major renovation right now. Especially since I bought a major fixer upper in the beach town where I grew up and moved in with my daughter.

In The Marching Morons, C. M. Kornbluth delivers a biting science fiction satire set in a future where intelligence has all but vanished. With society ruled by mediocrity and the average IQ plummeting, one cunning man from the past awakens to seize control. A darkly humorous, prophetic tale about ignorance, manipulation, and the cost of cultural decay.