Class Clown

by Dave Barry

Subtitled—The Memoirs of a Professional Wiseass: How I Went 77 Years without Growing Up

Over the years, I have enjoyed reading Dave Barry’s humor columns occasionally and some of his books. Class Clown takes the reader through Barry’s childhood and professional life. He has had a lot of detours—rock band, “precision parade maneuvers with lawnmowers and brooms,” and communication instructor for business people. He was even a traditional journalist for a while, but his trademark was doing anything outside the norm, the quirkier the better! 

I enjoyed most of Class Clown. Some of it was “laugh out loud” funny. When I got to Barry’s section on politics, however, I was disappointed. He claimed that people in his parents’ generation were able to argue politics and leave as friends. Unfortunately, this is not a skill that Barry picked up from them. In one chapter of this book, which reflects his views on politics, he did not roast both sides equally. The reader is left with no doubt as to which “side” is right and which “side” is wrong. There is no humor in that.

So…funny, yes, in part. Divisive, yes, in part. Barry has retired from his work as a humor columnist. He has given a lot of people chuckles over the years, and I hope he enjoys his retirement.

I received a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. Opinions expressed in this review are completely my own.

Rating: 4/5 

Category: Memoir, Humor

Publication:   May 13, 2025—Simon & Schuster

Memorable Lines:

It wasn’t that our parents didn’t care about us: I think it was mainly that they didn’t view the world as a fundamentally dangerous place. They grew up in the Depression and had recently been through a world war. To them, the 1950s weren’t so scary.

At the end of the night everybody hugged everybody, because they were friends, and they understood that they could disagree about politics without believing the other side was evil. Mistaken, maybe. Evil, no.

One time he was upset about two things: (1) He couldn’t find his pipe, and (2) his car wasn’t running right. After listening to Bob complain about these things for several days, his wife, Beth—a saintly woman—had an idea, and was able to locate Bob’s missing pipe. It was under the accelerator pedal.