Bo Burnham
Autore di Egghead: Or, You Can't Survive on Ideas Alone
Sull'Autore
Bo Burnham was born in Hamilton, Massachusetts on August 21, 1990. He is a comedian, songwriter and actor. Comedy Central Records released three of his albums - Bo Burnham in 2009, Words Words Words in 2010, and what. in 2013. In 2013, he created, wrote, directed, and starred in the mockumentary mostra altro Zach Stone Is Gonna Be Famous on MTV. His first book, Egghead: Or, You Can't Survive on Ideas Alone, was published in 2013. (Bowker Author Biography) mostra meno
Opere di Bo Burnham
INSIDE (The Songs) [2 LP] 2 copie
INSIDE (The Songs) 2 copie
Eighth Grade [Blu-ray] [2021] 2 copie
Eight Grade 1 copia
Opere correlate
Etichette
Informazioni generali
- Nome canonico
- Burnham, Bo
- Nome legale
- Burnham, Robert Pickering
- Data di nascita
- 1990-08-21
- Sesso
- male
- Nazionalità
- USA
- Luogo di nascita
- Hamilton, Massachusetts, USA
- Luogo di residenza
- Los Angeles, California, USA
Utenti
Recensioni
Egghead: Or, You Can't Survive on Ideas Alone di Bo Burnham
Hmmm. I honestly thought I was going to enjoy this more than I did. I enjoy Bo Burnham's comedy, and I'm well acquainted with the frequently dark nature of it, but this...well, he did credit George Carlin and Shel Silverstein in the end, and honestly, the book was exactly that: an amalgam of the two of them, with the occasional "Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey" thrown in on top. I never felt quite like the voices meshed into a single one, though, so I found myself skimming through to the ends of the poems, just to find out whether it was going to be a Silverstein or a Carlin.… (altro)
½A ribald Seuss. Pseudo-Shel Silverstein. Silly snippets with no pretense or ambition except to elicit rolling eyes and chuckles. Written with the intensity and insight of a snarky adolescent scribbling on a bathroom wall.
The poems are accompanied by simple line drawings.
Sometimes inane and obscene, but recommended if you like funny poems.
The poems are accompanied by simple line drawings.
Sometimes inane and obscene, but recommended if you like funny poems.
Delightful and occasionally insightful. It's like a mix of George Carlin and Shel Silverstein (whom Bo Burnham actually mentions in the acknowledgments) with a dash of Roald Dahl for good measure.
Bo Burnham es un humorista que comenzó su andadura grabando para Youtube en el ático de sus padres. Tiene un tipo de humor que a veces me encanta y iotras me deja diciendo "esto no, así no", pero en general me gusta. Aquí hay un número suyo entero.
Además de ser monologuista ha escrito un libro de poesía, con un montón de poemas rarunos, entre los cuales hay incluso alguno bello. Mi favorita:
Les dejo mi selección por si no piensan coger este libro:
A Dog’s Poem
Roses are grey,
violets are a different shade of grey,
let’s go chase cars!
The Squares
The Squares lived happily, in their square houses, in their square yards, in their square town. One day, a family of Circles moved in from the west. “Get out of here, roundies!” shouted one of the Squares. “Why?” asked one of the Circles. “Because this is a metaphor for racism!”
Convenience
I would do anything for you, if convenient.
I would move a mountain for you if that mountain could be moved with a button or with a lever
that wasn’t too cold to the touch.
I would give you the moon if I could.
You would love the moon. You would show it off to everyone and not give a fuck that you’ve now severely damaged our ecosystem by disrupting the tides.
Maybe a nice look in the mirror is in order, Missy.
Anteater, Blender, Butthole
Anteater, blender, butthole: these words know what they’re doing.
What does a blender do? Blend. What does an anteater do? Eat ants. What’s a butthole? A hole in your butt.
Carpet, manslaughter, folklore. These words suck. What is a carpet? No idea. What is manslaughter? It’s actually slaughtering men or women. Misleading. What is folklore? A bunch of folk doing lore? What the fuck is lore?
Absolute nonsense. We need more words like toothbrush.
My Rabbit’s Foot
I’ve got a rabbit’s foot and I feel lucky that I have it, but I still know that it must’ve come from one unlucky rabbit.
Incomparable
You’re incomparable like a… Shit. Like a…
Touch Me Back
“Touch me back,” you said, like a pirate talking to a masseuse.
“Right away, Captain,” I replied, forgetting that you couldn’t hear that connection that I made in my head.
Above and Below
You little perfect thing, you. At once, I stand in awe and condescend, my puppy, my goddess.
Sharks
You’re afraid of sharks? Really? They don’t even have bones! They have cartilage.
Are you afraid of ears too?
Perfect
I love you just the way you are but you don’t see you like I do.
You shouldn’t try so hard to be perfect.
Trust me, perfect should try to be you.
Clowns
Most people fear the evil clown, squeaking his big red nose in a dark barn.
I fear the off-duty clown, out of his costume, impossible to spot, sitting next to me on a bus.
Her Eyes
Her eyes were like fire. They weren’t red or anything. Not particularly warm, either. They didn’t glow or “appear to glow,” whatever that means.
But they had that same strange blend of familiar and miraculous— and they were always nice to look at after a long day of doing things. … (altro)
Además de ser monologuista ha escrito un libro de poesía, con un montón de poemas rarunos, entre los cuales hay incluso alguno bello. Mi favorita:
Magic
Read this to yourself. Read it silently. Don’t move your lips. Don’t make a sound.
Listen to yourself. Listen without hearing anything. What a wonderfully weird thing, huh?
NOW MAKE THIS PART LOUD! SCREAM IT IN YOUR MIND! DROWN EVERYTHING OUT.
Now, hear a whisper. A tiny whisper.
Now, read this next line with your best crotchety-old-man voice: “Hello there, sonny. Does your town have a post office?”
Awesome! Who was that? Whose voice was that? It sure wasn’t yours! How do you do that? How?! Must be magic.
Les dejo mi selección por si no piensan coger este libro:
Roses are grey,
violets are a different shade of grey,
let’s go chase cars!
The Squares
The Squares lived happily, in their square houses, in their square yards, in their square town. One day, a family of Circles moved in from the west. “Get out of here, roundies!” shouted one of the Squares. “Why?” asked one of the Circles. “Because this is a metaphor for racism!”
Convenience
I would do anything for you, if convenient.
I would move a mountain for you if that mountain could be moved with a button or with a lever
that wasn’t too cold to the touch.
I would give you the moon if I could.
You would love the moon. You would show it off to everyone and not give a fuck that you’ve now severely damaged our ecosystem by disrupting the tides.
Maybe a nice look in the mirror is in order, Missy.
Anteater, Blender, Butthole
Anteater, blender, butthole: these words know what they’re doing.
What does a blender do? Blend. What does an anteater do? Eat ants. What’s a butthole? A hole in your butt.
Carpet, manslaughter, folklore. These words suck. What is a carpet? No idea. What is manslaughter? It’s actually slaughtering men or women. Misleading. What is folklore? A bunch of folk doing lore? What the fuck is lore?
Absolute nonsense. We need more words like toothbrush.
My Rabbit’s Foot
I’ve got a rabbit’s foot and I feel lucky that I have it, but I still know that it must’ve come from one unlucky rabbit.
Incomparable
You’re incomparable like a… Shit. Like a…
Touch Me Back
“Touch me back,” you said, like a pirate talking to a masseuse.
“Right away, Captain,” I replied, forgetting that you couldn’t hear that connection that I made in my head.
Above and Below
You little perfect thing, you. At once, I stand in awe and condescend, my puppy, my goddess.
Sharks
You’re afraid of sharks? Really? They don’t even have bones! They have cartilage.
Are you afraid of ears too?
Perfect
I love you just the way you are but you don’t see you like I do.
You shouldn’t try so hard to be perfect.
Trust me, perfect should try to be you.
Clowns
Most people fear the evil clown, squeaking his big red nose in a dark barn.
I fear the off-duty clown, out of his costume, impossible to spot, sitting next to me on a bus.
Her Eyes
Her eyes were like fire. They weren’t red or anything. Not particularly warm, either. They didn’t glow or “appear to glow,” whatever that means.
But they had that same strange blend of familiar and miraculous— and they were always nice to look at after a long day of doing things.
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- Opere
- 9
- Opere correlate
- 3
- Utenti
- 474
- Popolarità
- #52,001
- Voto
- 3.8
- Recensioni
- 13
- ISBN
- 7