amazing, too funny, lots of laugh out loud moments and no need to read start to finish, can pick any chapter and enjoy ( )

Folks often tell me I remind them of Woody Allen.... But as I'm over six-feet tall, and have a huge black beard Moses or Karl Marx might have envied, and don't wear glasses, I'm hardly a dead ringer, the spittin image, or whatever.
Woody's ambition was always to be somebody else, and I can relate to that. Mine was always to be HIM (at least while he was loved by Mia Farrow).
The really big difference between us, however, is that he's very talented, and this comes across in this trilogy of titles, as well as in films like "Love and Death".
(For what it's worth, I do make people laugh a lot, but never intentionally... there's the rub!)
Anyhow, these excerpts, hopefully, may amuse you:

Should I marry W.? Not if she won't tell me the other letters in her name.
Today I saw a red-and-yellow sunset and thought, How insignificant I am! Of course, I thought that yesterday, too, and it rained. I was overcome with self-loathing and contemplated suicide again - this time by inhaling next to an insurance salesman.

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Look at me, he thought. Fifty years old. Half a century. Next year, I will be fifty-one. Then fifty-two. Using this same reasoning, he could figure out his age as much as five years in the future. So little time left, he thought, and so much to accomplish.

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Gossage:
How curious your last letter was! Well-intended, concise, containing all the elements that would appear to make up what passes among certain reference groups as a communicative effect, yet tinged throughout by what Jean-Paul Sartre is so fond of referring to as "nothingness."

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Notes from the Overfed
(After reading Dostoevski and the new "Weight Watchers" magazine on the same plane trip)
I am fat. I am disgustingly fat. I am the fattest human I know. I have nothing but excess poundage all over my body. My fingers are fat. My wrists are fat. My eyes are fat. (Can you imagine fat eyes?) I am hundreds of pounds overweight. Flesh drips from me like hot fudge off a sundae. My girth has been an object of disbelief to everyone who's seen me. There is no question about it, I am a regular fatty. Now, the reader may ask, are there advantages or disavantages to being built like a planet? I do not mean to be facetious or speak in paradoxes, but I must answer that fat in itself is above bourgeois morality... For what is fat after all but an accumulation of pounds? ...No, my friend, we must never attempt to distinguish between good fat and bad fat. We must train ourselves to confront the obese without judging...

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Understand that you are dealing with a man who knocked off Finnegan's Wake on the roller coaster at Coney Island... And yet , with this much perception dripping from me, like maple syrup off waffles, I was reminded recently that I possess an Achilles' heel culturewise that runs up my leg to the back of my neck.