Bob Deaton takes a whimsical look back at the hazards of growing up clueless in Indiana in the 1950s. It is a gonzo take on a time and place in which vomiting in a grade school cafeteria is a political act, prom dresses are impenetrable fortresses of taffeta and rebar, and a cigar-smoking dentist favors conspiracy theories but not anesthesia. Zealous summer camp chaplains routinely recruit Manchurian Candidates for Jesus, but basketball reigns supreme as the real state religion. Even churches field teams, but at their own peril, for a defeat on the court is not without serious theological consequences: "St. Marys 55 First Methodist 49, Meatless Fridays Commence for Methodists on March 3!"Everyone burned their trash in fifty-five gallon drums out in the alley, and any kid with a quarter could score a pack of unfiltered Luckies from a vending machine. Dogs roamed free to forage and fight and copulate and form packs and establish hierarchies, and aside from TV and retirement plans, they were just like everyone else in Middle America, navigating life without a map."Never Say Excuse Me Louder Than You Burp" lives in that sweet spot where Jean Shepherd, Garrison Keillor and David Sedaris come to play and it wont put our eye out!