From the author: In what universe must you live to be that which you are not?
The Weston H. Dawley who is worse off than the rest lives alone, and has been unemployed for four years.
He begins each day in a shitty apartment, moaning "Christ on toast," as he awakens. (Other Westons say this too, but with those Westons it is because the Q3 reports look bad, or because a girlfriend has frolicked inappropriately where the press can see.) Our Weston rubs his eyes (as another Weston in a separate Beijing kicks back with a beer) and wobbles to the bathroom, where he ignores...