Look, the dude was a successful whatever and then at a relatively young age he started looking like shit so instead of hiring a personal trainer or retiring early he sold his Ferrari (not a Pagani Zonda, McLaren F1 or even a Buggatti Veyron but just a frigging Ferrari, as the folks at top gear will attest, so much for your hypothetical past "success" Mr Monk) and goes in search of Shangri La and after weirdly gay time there returns looking ripped. End of the goddamn story. Why this book sold more than twenty copies is beyond me.So, if getting felt up by a rabidly violent person in a dark and smelly alley is your kind of thing, look no further, read this book. It's that dangerously gay.
