Tony Kornheiser's Books

I'm Back for More Cash

A Tony Kornheiser Collection (Because You Can't Take Two Hundred Newspapers into the Bathroom)

By: Tony Kornheiser

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I'm Back for More Cash

A Tony Kornheiser Collection (Because You Can't Take Two Hundred Newspapers into the Bathroom)

By: Tony Kornheiser

I think it’s really cool to be on a jury. Take the O.J. jury—the people on that jury got book deals, and they got on Nightline, and some of them even got to meet Greta Van Susteren! They were always being written about in the newspapers: “Juror No. 1, a thirty-six-year-old Caucasian male with a master’s degree who works for a high-tech corporation.” Throw in a line about how “he likes to hunt and fish,” and you’ve got The Dating Game. I wonder what they’d write about me. “Juror No. 4, a fat, bald, old, whiny Caucasian man who dresses like a vagrant and has complained incessantly about the texture of the toilet paper in the jury lavatory.” I try to diet, but unfortunately I’ve come to the point in life where nearly everything disgusts or disappoints me except food. And so I eat all day long. If I had a family crest, at this point it would be a man with a chicken breast in one hand, a cheeseburger in the other, and a garland of sour-cream-and-onion potato chips around his head. Tony Kornheiser is back. The celebrated Washington Post columnist and ESPN radio and TV personality relates his experience as an OnStar user, a proud new owner of the Ronco Showtime Rotisserie & BBQ, and a “phone-a-friend” on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. And in between, he dishes out political commentary on Monica and Bill and Al and George W. Read all about his quest to fit into size 36 Dockers and his struggle to buy holiday gifts. And know that in the process you’re handing this Kornheiser guy the dough for these columns twice. I got into the stock market late. I was deep in my forties and I still had all my money in the bank, earning 2 percent, like it was low-fat milk. My friends laughed at me. Even the people at the bank laughed at me—they had all their money in the market. So I gave my money to a financial adviser, who promised me he would get me a greater return than the bank. A baboon could do that, Tony. Yes, but would a baboon give me steak knives? —from I’m Back for More Cash

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