There are two types of clubs: those that bring like-minded people together for a shared purpose and the other type. The Dipshits' Club is the other type.

Members of the Dipshits' Club are appointed by the general public who mutually agree that the person is in the club. Interestingly enough, while appointment to the Dipshits' Club can be initiated by a single individual, it must be verified by others who, in turn, recognize the potential members' traits and validate the said appointment (e.

g. , "Oh, for sure he's in the club.

We have a member in our town that acts just like him"). The Dipshits' Club has no structure, salad bars, or lapel pins.

The Dipshits' Club has no quarterly newsletters that are published by Ed, the club secretary, who also keeps track of attendance and annoys other members. There are no national conventions or regional conferences where dipshits can mingle with others like themselves.

No, club members blissfully go about their lives, oblivious to the fact that they have been identified as part of an exclusive group of people who the average person finds uniquely peculiar. It is the peculiarity that we find so intriguing.

Finally, author and Dipshits' Club charter member Jeff Andresen swings wide the door and shares the type of authentic, hilarious, and relatable stories which will make you proud to be a member of the club. .

. or think about joining.

The more you read, the more it will occur to you that you are not alone. It is actually liberating to know that there are others out there who wonder if it's okay to squirt their neighbor's obnoxious child in the face with a mustard packet or purposely misplace their mother-in-law's readers right before pill-taking time.

There is something to be said about a read that makes you start smiling in anticipation as you find yourself hoping it will go where you think it might. The Dipshits' Club takes you on that headshaking journey that fills you with wonderment, and you find yourself thinking, My God, that could have been me.

. .