Hard upon last year's successful gathering of his television essays, the amiable sovereign of the unimpeachable, real McCoy presents a copious assortment of his newspaper columns. Though less consistently nourishing than its predecessor, it has no lack of palatable little pieces--on matters commonplace and homely, in the plain old first person singular. We get to know Rooney's collection of typewriters, his garage, shoes, socks, foibles, and finances. ""I'd give $10,000 to have had some of the money I have now back in 1956 when I was dead broke."" He thinks we're all going to die someday, and he's entitled to his opinion. As a matter of fact, his opinion is often demonstrably better than the next guy's. He thinks Vince Lombardi was wrong about winning being the only thing. He's noticed that the seasons are becoming a blur on the calendar and that you can, too, tell a book by its cover. Advise Rooney to seek-and-he-shall-find, and he answers that he's looked and it isn't there. Say that patience is a virtue; ""impatience is a virtue, too,"" he replies. ""The fact is,"" he reminds us, ""any time we or someone we love isn't dying, it should be considered a great time in life."" A welcome reappearance.