In a windowless room beneath a kosher Chinese take-out (the one on Pico — not the one you’re thinking of; the one by the fish place), N. Troyer crouches over his keyboard, illuminated only by the blue cast of his 2007-era laptop monitor and the blinding radiance of his own genius. He deeply believes that a friend — a true friend — tells you when you are making an ass of yourself. And he is committed to being the best friend you ever had.
