OVERSTATED

The comedian writes that “all state jokes used to be about New Jersey and now half the jokes are about Florida.” Then he disproves it by sending up each of the states in turn.

Quinn returns to and elaborates on a theme of his solo off-Broadway show Red State Blue State: the geopolitical rifts that divide America in the age of social media, Donald Trump, and a polarized citizenry. As the author sees it, everyone’s fair game now that keeping the nation together has come to resemble planning a wedding: “You have to have vegan meals for Oregon and Vermont and bourbon for Tennessee and Kentucky, and you have to make sure Utah is not next to Florida.” With barbs that modulate from rueful to sardonic, Quinn tweaks the states one by one, giving an offbeat view of the history and recent follies of each and interspersing his rundown with musings on federalism in general. Tobacco-rich North Carolina is “America’s Ashtray,” beer-and-bratwurst–loving Wisconsin is “The Diet Starts Tomorrow” state, and filmmaker-friendly Georgia is “Hollywood’s Booty Call.” The author lands his punches when he lampoons topics he knows well, such as U.S. elections: “They’re always held in an elementary school that brings back weird memories for everybody. Why not put them in bars?...Instead of stupid ‘I Voted’ buttons, they give you a drink ticket or rewards points at CVS.” Elsewhere, Quinn displays a too-shaky grip on states to satirize them convincingly—he researched North Dakota partly by looking at “some pictures on Trip Advisor”—and overuses devices like fat jokes, which he lobs at nine states. The problem isn’t that such jokes are unwelcome; it’s that many don’t ring true. For example, government studies show that at least two targets of his fat jokes—Hawaii and Massachusetts—rank among the nation’s 10 thinnest states.

A hot-and-cold roast of the 50 states that spares neither right- nor left-leaning terrain.