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This is the most apropos
title for a book I've ever seen. It explains exactly what happens
to our protagonist, Toby Young, as he tries to make his way through
the world that is America and Condé Nast. I devoured every page
wondering what wacky, self-destructive, purely idiotic thing Mr. Young
was going to do next. He was the most clueless character I'd ever
seen. The ineptitude, the crassness, the alcoholism, the puerile drivel
that flowed from his mouth on a daily basis... How could anybody be
so clueless about how things work? While Mr. Young had created a thoroughly
entertaining and memorable character, I thought over and over again
how it was funny, but ultimately unbelievable. Then I remembered that
this was a true story. This happened to me every five pages or so.
Every time he did something like hiring a stripper for a colleague's
birthday at Vanity Fair on bring your daughter to work day,
or starting snorting lines of coke in the middle of a photo shoot
for the magazine, I just shook my head in disbelief. Anybody that
has ever worked in magazine publishing, or dealt with the hideous,
trust fund fahsionistas that dominate the industry will absolutely
get a kick out of this book. Anybody that has seriously fucked his
or her career by doing something really fuckin' stupid will love it
as well. Toby Young says and does all the things we wish we could
have. He does all the things we are afraid to do. He is the crash
test dummy for all of us white collar assholes who thought going to
college, coming in on time and performing to the best of our abilities
might actually entitle us to some loyalty from our employers. Now
we know we could have screwed off every day, drank until our uvulas
fell out and the end result would have been exactly the same--without
the rich book contract, of course.
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