Erik Moe admits that his cartoon novel is somewhat autobiographical, though he claims to be less of a loser than its hero. People who know him say otherwise. His alter ego, the clueless protagonist of 'The Moe Chronicles', just can't get ahead. His superb Cary Grant imitation is wasted on unappreciative women. While he languishes in a dank cubicle at work, he watches utter cheeseballs rise through the ranks to claim the coveted window offices. His efforts to follow in the footsteps of Ernest Hemingway and become a tormented artiste land him no royalties but only a black eye. He may be a loser, but he always loses big. With hilarious and terrifying accuracy, Erik Moe's artistically rendered narrative captures the extraordinary pathos of his generation - the couch-ridden, microbrew-swilling, glued-to-the-boob-tube masses. Like no other work of its time, 'The Moe Chronicles' speaks to the unemployed, underemployed, and unwillingly employed, as well as to anyone who has gone for 237-plus days without a date or who secretly believes that, with just a bit of luck, they could have been a rock star.