Sometimes I just can’t stand it anymore, tracking the slow murder of our civilization by its leaders and sages.
In this outing, Freddy the pig–poet, detective, banker, newspaper editor, football star, traveler, magician–learns how to fly an airplane. In fact, he learns it just in time to use this new skill to save Boomschmitt’s traveling circus from the evil Watson P. Condiment, whose unrequited passion for the circus’s star performer has moved him to hire a plane to buzz and bomb the circus’s performances.
Yes, the whole thing’s totally daft. That’s the beauty of it. Freddy books are billed as children’s literature, but I’ve found they work even better for adults. Brooks’ humor operates on many age levels.
If you’re too old for Freddy the pig, see your doctor. You may be dead.