“For reasons that cannot be explained, cats can suddenly read at a twelfth-grade level. They can’t talk and they can’t write, but they can read silently and understand the text. Many cats love this new skill, because they now have something to do all day while they lay around the house; however, a few cats become depressed, because reading forces them to realize the limitations of their existence (not to mention the utter frustration of being unable to express themselves). This being the case, do you think the average cat would enjoy Garfield, or would cats find this cartoon to be an insulting caricature?”

That’s what caused me to interrupt a perfectly calm holiday evening in our household as I failed to quell my laughter. Thank you Chuck Klosterman. That’s an excerpt from his book “Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs,” specifically a section on the 23 questions he asks everyone he meets in order to decide if he can really love them.

So far, everyone I have asked says cats would enjoy Garfield. I think I agree, though there are undoubtedly some really snooty cats that would be offended. I think these cats are the really long-haired ones that seem to think they’re better than other cats and probably you as well as they eat their Fancy Feast. You absolutely must read this book for the other 22 questions, or at least spend the 10 minutes at a bookstore laughing in the aisle as others wonder what is wrong with you.

Ok, I’ll give you one more. This one has a familiar feel to anyone who has gone through the joy of journalism school and lessons on newsworthiness: “Defying all expectation, a group of Scottish marine biologists capture a live Loch Ness Monster. In an almost unbelievable coincidence, a bear hunter in the Pacific Northwest shoots a Sasquatch in the thigh, thereby allowing zoologists to take the furry monster into captivity. These events happen on the same afternoon. That evening, the president announces he may have thyroid cancer and will undergo a biopsy later that week. You are the front-page editor of the New York Times: What do you play as the biggest story?”

Of course, in j-school the hypotheticals are usually more common occurrences about wars, car accidents, plane crashes and fires. Still a valid question though.

Even taking into account a low sample size, this is the only book of the 20 my mom has seen lying around and been befuddled by its title. Or at least the only one that has caused her to ask what the heck it was about.

“Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs” has discussion of all three topics, along with a host of other pop culture essays and other thoughts. Cocoa Puffs come into play in a section about what you can tell about people from the cereal they eat. Klosterman writes that cereals that sell themselves with things like “a laid-back bear wearing a mock turtleneck” (as in Golden Crisp) are for “nonsense people.” That’s in contrast to “no-nonsense” cereals like Grape Nuts, that put a picture of, um, Grape Nuts on the box. “Consequently, we nonsense types spend hours and hours staring at cardboard creatures like the Trix Rabbit and absorbing his ethos.” I’m a Cocoa Puffs man myself.

Of course, perhaps even more important than a discussion of what cereal means to our society is a chapter featuring Saved By The Bell. Klosterman writes about watching the show with a friend in college. He says the friend–a term he uses loosely–would say virtually nothing during the show until one day he burst out in exasperation at the unlikely relationship between Zack and Mr. Belding. Klosterman writes about how odd it was that this instance was the truly unbelievable thing in the show:

“I mean, Bayside High was a school where students made money by selling a ‘Girls of Bayside’ calendar, and it was a school where oil was discovered under the football team’s goalposts. This is a show where Zack had the ability to call time-out and stop time in order to narrate what was happening with the plot. There is never a single moment in the Save By The Bell series that reflects any kind of concrete authenticity.”

I think high school would have been a lot more entertaining if I had the ability to stop time. I would have become a pro at stealing packs of mini chocolate donuts from the vending machine near the gym. Imagine what I could have accomplished by saving those 60 cents every time. That could put an end to world poverty, or at least have netted me nearly two chocolate chip cookies at lunchtime. I bet with stopped time I could also learn how to break into the Veryfine machine and add a fruit punch to my daily time-stop snack. I would certainly have moved things on people’s desks, but only slightly to mess with their heads without giving them any notion that anything concrete was happening.

The last bit of Klosterman-ness I’ll touch on is a more serious portion citing the Oklahoma City bombing. He writes about the newspaper coverage afterward, specifically of the victims. The Chicago Tribune mentioned each of the 168, with a one-sentence bit following their name. “There’s nothing intrinsically wrong with any of those details. However, as I read and reread every little bio on the list, I found myself deflated by the realization that virtually everyone’s life is only remembered for one thing.”

Eli Whitney invented the cotton gin. F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote “The Great Gatsby.” James K. Polk was president of the United States. What will your sentence say?

Next up: Tomorrow I’ll do the grand wrapup of the Year of the Book, including fabulous pictures and perhaps even a graph! Make sure the kids get a good night’s sleep and keep their excitement under wraps (I know it will be hard!)