I wish I can call Damn Good Advice a damn good book of advice, but it’s mostly tailor-made for the advertising industry, nicely illustrated with eye-catching and thought-provoking design.
The introduction gives a clear indication of what you can expect from this book:
In 1951, I was drafted into the army. My first day at Camp Gordon in the deep of Jim Crow South, roll call at 6.00 a.m. went like this: “Jones!” “Right chere!” “Jackson!” “Right chere!” “Longstreet!” “Right chere!” “Lois!” “Yo!” When we were dismissed, a red-faced major confronted me: “Yo’ soldier?” “Well, the Southern boys all say ‘Right chere’ – but I’m from New York, so I say “Yo!” The major leaned in, and between gritted teeth said, “Oh, another Noo Yawk, Jew Fag, Niggah lover!” I braced myself, and my exact reply to him was, “Go fuck yourself, sir!” I was given 14 weeks company punishment, and shipped off to Korea. (Thank you, Abraham Lincoln!)
Be warned. Some of the “advice” sound a tad extreme and are not for the faint-hearted.
But probably not this one: “Oak tress do not produce acorns until they are 50 years old.”
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