Oh hey, it's another entry into the pantheon of clever, self-conscious books by middle-aged white guys. How's this one, you ask? Full of existential angst, thanks for asking - but leavened with witty word play! Oh, you say, so...just like the other ones? Well, yes, pretty much.
Man, I'll tell you. Middle-aged white guys. It's not that they're not clever, but they're just so aware
of it all. Is it possible to be self-deprecating while simultaneously patting yourself on the back for how self-deprecating you are?