The Simpsons: An Uncensored, Unauthorized History, by John Ortved.

All it took was a few tantalizing excerpts from The Awl to seal the deal, namely this one:

Also not amused by the knockoffs was one James L. Brooks. One story, which circulated throughout the Gracie Films building, involved Jim in New York City soon after the show had hit it big. Brooks spotted an African-American street vendor hocking counterfeit Bart Simpson T-shirts. Jim accosted him: “You’re taking food out of the mouths of my children!”

The Best American Essays of 2009, edited by Mary Oliver.

This one’s a perennial purchase. I realize I probably could have found it at any nearby bookstore, but it’s raining out and I’m still in my pajamas. Sorry, struggling local bookstores.

Bill Bruford, the Autobiography, by Bill Bruford.

This arrogant British jackass is my second-favorite drummer of all time. He’s also a prime example of the axiom that the more talented a musician you are, the worse the horrible, pun-laden titles you’re going to give your compositions. (This is the same law that compelled Tony Levin to name a song “Not Just Another Pretty Bass.”) Bill Bruford named his first solo album Feels Good To Me and its cover was a shot of him caressing a gong; his method and technique book is called When In Doubt, Roll! So you can imagine my disappointment when he went with such a boring title. Come on, Bill, you can do better than that. How about Tea & Drumpets. That’s just off the top of my head!