Dang, Amazon—that's a LOT of books!

Via.

I love Amazon reviews!

That's because Amazon customers really sink their teeth into analyzing purchases in a thoughtful way.

Like this review for the Audioquest K2 terminated speaker cable:

Me again. Of course, it's kind of narrow-minded to only go to Amazon.com for reviews. I mean, I could check different reviews for products in OTHER countries. Let's see what users at Amazon.co.uk (the United Kingdom version) have to say about The Big Book of Boy Stuff:

As I said, I love Amazon reviews!

Snarkiness Up, Snorkels Down

Author John Burningham’s first children’s book was Borka: The Adventures of a Goose with No Feathers (1963). And I read it! (Not in 1963, though.)

So I sat up and took notice when Mr. Burningham spoke up (here, in The Independent) about how kids’ lives have been getting progressively worse. In his words:

“I was lucky in that I did experience a hell of a lot of stuff. That's the terrible thing about being young in 2009. There are so many restrictions. All that running wild, and playing, and doing dangerous things, you can't do it, you really can't do it. It's 'Don't go out in the field [it might be risky.]”

This article came to mind because I recently got an e-mail from an adult who was shocked (SHOCKED!) to find that there is a reference to matches in The Pocket Guide to Boy Stuff. Among this person’s questions: “Was this book scrutinized by fire safety experts, pediatric professionals, burn unit emergency doctors?”

I was able to respond that the passage in question had been vetted by a state fire safety expert and a police officer who does safety training with kids. Further, I was able to provide review blurbs like this one from FamilyFun Magazine: “The author, a seasoned middle-school teacher, puts a premium on safety and common sense (the chapter on explosives, for example, has the most thoroughly convincing lecture on firework safety we've ever read).”

To no avail; a one-star reader review by the person in question was promptly meted out on-line. Ouchie! You see, the pocket guide also included a recipe for “hand-grenades.” These use baking soda and vinegar, a potent combo generating all the raw power of plastique explosives! (Oh wait, they only fizz over. But still.)

So at the moment, I’m nodding along with John Burningham. Perhaps it’s only a matter of time before all family households are equipped with the device to the left. It’ll make accidents less likely, and the pain won’t hurt as much if they do occur! PediSedate product description follows:

PediSedate is a medical device consisting of a colorful, toy-like headset that connects to a game component such as the Nintendo Game Boy system or a portable CD player. Once the child places it on his or her head and swings the snorkel down from its resting place atop the head, PediSedate transparently monitors respiratory function and distributes nitrous oxide, an anesthetic gas. The child comfortably becomes sedated while playing with a Nintendo Game Boy system or listening to music.

Three Wolf Moon

As earlier noted, the odd item on Amazon.com can suddenly start generating customer reviews at an impossible rate.

Enter the Three Wolf Moon T-shirt. It's got over 700 customer reviews at the moment, and is currently Amazon's best-selling apparel item. As you can see from the design, it has kitsch appeal, unlike other unlikely products (like Tuscan Whole Milk). But the tripartite lupine design aside, let's get a sampling of those reviews:

“[Buying this shirt] was the best decision I’ve ever made, including the decisions I made to go to college, to marry my husband and to continue taking A.D.H.D. medication.”

“Pros: Fits my girthy frame, has wolves on it, attracts women.
Cons: Only 3 wolves (could probably use a few more on the ‘guns’), cannot see wolves when sitting with arms crossed, wolves would have been better if they glowed in the dark.”

“When I opened the package, the focused radiance of the shirt actually burned my shadow onto the wall.”

“As soon as I put this shirt on the Bank called to apologize about trying to foreclose on my home.”

“I have been wearing this shirt for about 15 weeks and I have not needed to wash it! You don’t put this shirt on your torso you put it on your soul.”

Thanks to Peter Applebome for parsing the reviews!

"Signs Point to... Oddness"

Yes, I sometimes find on-line user reviews of obscure products entertaining and thought-provoking. Not all of them; it’s usually the most vehement or adulatory reviews that make me crack a smile or scratch my head.

Enter the Magic 8 Ball. In the course of researching (don’t ask) the fortune-telling device, I was struck by these “one star” reviews on Amazon. Exhibit A: Arthur, a self-identified "skillful reviewer":
Although Arthur is Australian, there may be a second-language learning issue here. Nonetheless, following the train of thought in that last paragraph alone is sort of fun... until you get lost in the rough. Here's another Australian incensed by the 8 Ball.
This review is interesting because the reviewer seems to have the rare 8 Ball that asks questions. And that last sentence is awe-inspiring: "If a robotic company invented a talking 8 ball with no random questions and can be your pal as a lie detector, than that one I like."

Admittedly, it's possible these reviews are rigged... that is, knowingly written to be off-the-wall by some irony-drenched hipster. It's happened before; witness what happened to Tuscan whole milk on Amazon, e.g.:

America's Worst Writer (Who Also Happens to Be President)

Since time immemorial, savants have picked the winners of presidential elections based on Amazon.com’s bestseller rankings. Currently, Barack Obama’s book, The Audacity of Hope is ranked #52, while John McCain’s family memoir, Faith of My Fathers comes in at #2,822.

For the sake of non-argument, let’s assume that both of these candidates can write well. But who was the worst writer of any American president? Warren Harding is generally thought to be the worst president of the twentieth century. Journalist H. L. Mencken wrote of him, “No other such complete and dreadful nitwit is to be found in the pages of American history.” But was Harding's writing as bad as his administration? Mencken thought so, maintaining that it was “so bad that a sort of grandeur creeps into it.”

Of course, it was hardly Harding’s fault if he was a bad writer. First, his middle name was “Gamaliel.” Second, his mother nicknamed him “Winnie.” And thus Harding’s doom was assured.

What is odd is that Harding was a former journalist and newspaper owner who should have known his way around a prepositional phrase. To his credit, Harding wrote his own speeches. To his discredit, the results could sound like this: "I would like the government to do all it can to mitigate, then, in understanding, in mutuality of interest, in concern for the common good, our tasks will be solved."

Mencken again:

“He writes the worst English that I have ever encountered. It reminds me of a string of wet sponges; it reminds me of tattered washing on the line; it reminds me of stale bean soup, of college yells, of dogs barking idiotically through endless nights. . . . It drags itself out of the dark abysm of pish and crawls insanely up the topmost pinnacle of posh. It is rumble and bumble. It is flap and doodle. It is balder and dash.”

You’d think that would be the final word, but when Harding died, E. E. Cummings snarkily lamented, “The only man, woman or child who wrote a simple declarative sentence with seven grammatical errors is dead.” Man, that's cold. (My sources are here.)