Possibly the best jewel of wisdom I’ve ever received was that “The best laid plans don’t always get you laid the way you planned.” Sage advice when you consider that execution is absolutely critical to carrying out good ideas. Such is the case in books.
Millions have come to love the “Chicken Soup for the Soul” book series, which has sought to inspire and uplift any who would pore through the tales of love, warmth and achievement. And then there’s “Chicken Poop for the Soul II: More Droppings,” a parody of the series which offers the bold guarantee to entertain the cynic in all of us.
Unfortunately, this Pocket Books release by author David Fisher won’t get anybody what they were seeking because the humor is hackneyed, pedestrian and underachieving. And bad. Not good.
The book is split up into 50 vignettes theoretically designed to make the reader laugh due to sarcasm and today’s brand of misguided and uneducated irony.
For instance, the work entitled, “My First Date,” is the story of a 16-year-old girl’s first date and the overprotective father who questions the date’s ability to take proper care of the girl. The story, in a pitiable attempt to mock the rite of passage, descends into a mangled mess of father posing such possible circumstances as terrorist hostage-takers, a fire in a movie theater with no escape and carjackers stealing the young woman.
The far-fetched story is so far outside the realm of anything a normal person can relate to it loses its appeal. But the ill-fated date story was not the only egg laid by this chicken.
The recipe for the “Ultimate Fat-Free, Low-Cholesterol, Low-Sodium Diet,” is so banal it makes a Louis L’ Amour book look like “The Hunt for Red October.” The prescription “was discovered thousands of years ago and has been proven to work through the annals of recorded history,” including the ancient Egyptians. Obviously the book refers to starvation, which has its own place in comedy lore, but fails to pull off the feat because the joke simply isn’t funny, thought-provoking or new.
All this disappointed criticism is not to say the book doesn’t have its moments. “The Seven Secrets of Highly Rich People,” is somewhat amusing. The simple methods of attaining riches apparently is as follows, in order. “1) Don’t tell anybody anything about anything; 2) Especially don’t tell the IRS anything; 3) Never respond to writers’ questions for interviews about how you earned your money; 4) If the writers call, have your secretary tell them that you’re out of the country and she doesn’t know when you’ll be back; 5) Don’t let your relatives know anything about your financial situation; especially your husband or wife; 6) If Donald Trump wants to take credit for it, let him; and 7) Remember, there is no such thing as a secret if more than one person knows about it.
But in the end, “Chicken Poop for the Soul,” is a sad attempt at a promising idea. No series deserves more mocking, parody or sarcasm directed at it — except, maybe Oprah’s book club — than the “Chicken Soup for the Soul” series. But this just doesn’t cut it.
The best laid plans? Perhaps, but you know the rest.