Who Let the Dogs In?: Incredible Political Animals I Have Known » (Unabridged)

MOLLY IVINS began her career in journalism as the complaint department of the Houston Chronicle. In 1970, she became co-editor of The Texas Observer, which afforded her frequent fits of hysterical laughter while covering Texas legislature.

In 1976, Ivins joined The New York Times as a political reporter. The next year, she was named Rocky Mountain Bureau Chief, chiefly because there was no one else in the bureau.

In 1982, she returned once more to Texas, which may indicate a masochistic streak, and has had plenty to write about ever since. Her column is syndicated in more than three hundred newspapers, and her freelance work has appeared in Esquire, The Atlantic Monthly, The New York Times Magazine, The Nation, and Harper’s, and other publications. Her first book, Molly Ivins Can’t Say That, Can She?, spent more than a year on the New York Times bestseller list. Her books with Lou Dubose on George W. Bush, Shrub and Bushwhacked, were national bestsellers.

A three-time Pulitzer Prize finalist, she counts as her two greatest honors that the Minneapolis police force named its mascot pig after her and that she was once banned from the campus of Texas A&M.

The dazzling, inimitable Molly Ivins is back with a new collection of withering and hilarious pieces on the worst politics has to offer. This audiobook will feature a rogue's gallery of politicians: everyone from George W. Bush and the Democratic presidential contenders to Arnold Schwarzenegger. This career retrospective contains Ivins's funniest, most outrageous - and outraged - work on "the best of the worst," in a volume sure to delight those on the left and infuriate the right. Containing a new introduction, and following close on the heels of her phenomenally successful BUSHWHACKED, Molly Ivins's latest will appeal to anyone looking for wickedly funny relief from the mess in Washington.

The Washington Post - Edwin M. Yoder, Jr.

Some readers of her pungent prose may be distracted by an occasional unladylike locution, but behind the cornpone pose lurks a keen intelligence, a deadly wit and, not least, a passion for factual reporting.