I am in a unique position to comment on this book as I was the copyeditor on it. Previous to this I could not reveal my opinions, but I am no longer employed by the company I worked for at that time, and ever since I read this piece of puke, I've wanted to tell somebody--anybody!--how horrific it is. Thom Weisel is a royal b**tard with an equally king-sized ego, and about 99% of the book is him bragging on himself. Don't think Brandt is the author--Thommy boy had his hands firmly on the reins the whole way through, BELIEVE ME BECAUSE HE MADE FIFTY THOUSAND CHANGES AT EVERY STAGE OF THE PUBLICATION PROCESS!!! Note also that almost every one of these changes was to make the book even more self-aggrandizing than it started out. If you love reading the inflated-headed ramblings of a narcissistic egotist, this one is for you, but if bloated self-smooching turns you off the least bit, prepare to never stop throwing up.

And now, for my final question: Why doesn't he just sleep with Lance Armstrong and get it over with?

I feel so much better now!

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