“Increasingly painful” is a pretty apt description of this week’s arc. Crazy Harry doubles down on the imaginary CEO concept, and is compelled to give the old heave-ho to a raft of brilliant authors, any one of which, on his worst day, could write circles around Tom Batiuk.
It’s unseemly enough to have a suddenly unemployed adult decide to sell his books instead of searching for another job. But this whole transference thing, with the displaced worker assuming the role of CEO in his mind, and summarily issuing “walking papers” to his prized possessions, is just weird. Funky had best break down right now and offer him that Montoni’s gig, because this is getting to be re-God-damn-diculous.
Yes, it’s an acronym all right. “…although I’m sure there’s an app for it.” Oh, you’re sure? I’m not sure you know what an “app” is; neither do you know that Apple’s tagline for the iPhone (note capitalization and lack of hyphen) is “there’s an app for that” (unless TB’s trying not to infringe on 

You just lost the only job you ever had. Is getting another job not an option for you? Sure, you look and act like a septuagenarian, but you have a wife, a house, and one or three children. I really doubt that selling a few books, or imagining that you’re a CEO, is gonna supplant your lost income.