"When Milo loses his job, then gets a chance to have it back if he can
reel in a big fish — a major gift from an old college friend who’s now a
Machiavellian tech millionaire — he starts down a grim and spiraling
path. Manipulated and degraded by the millionaire, Purdy; frozen out by
his quite friendly yet unapologetically adulterous wife, Maura; even
disrespected by his penis-obsessed preschooler, Milo thrashes around
trying to stay afloat while he luxuriates in his growing despair and
resentment. To make matters worse, Purdy has an illegitimate son, Don — a
viciously angry Iraq war amputee — who turns out to be Milo’s homework:
to get the donation, Milo has to keep tabs on Don and funnel hush money
his way." (NY Times)
BIIB? No.
"She pulled out the piece of hotel stationery “that’s gonna make me look crazy.” She hesitated and said she couldn’t understand why she was so nervous. I interrupted to say I was nervous too. For the first time, she looked at me. Her eyes were huge and green, like mint chocolate chip when it melts. “That’s very” — she laughed — “mirror neuronal of you.” I asked what mirror neurons were. She said they’re what “make you feel empathy.” Here, she began reading rapidly, furiously, from the small piece of paper:" (NY Mag)
But is it boring? No.
"The only good thing about Yoko Ono was 'Oh Yoko!'"
"Aw, man. I'm a, I'm a Yoko Ono fan."
"Aww, man? Really? I'd always get bummed out when I saw her eat at Honmura An, and she'd eat soba there and I'd be like, 'Fucking...that's fucking Yoko Ono.'"
"Yoko Ono ruuuules!"
But is it boring? No.
