It began as a mystery blog that unexpectedly swelled into an Internet sensation. Someone was posting a scathingly hilarious fake diary of Apple CEO Steve Jobs online, and a tech-savvy audience ate it up. When the blog’s author was revealed to be Daniel Lyons, a senior editor of Forbes, Lyons was far from apologetic. He wrote a 248-page satirical novel narrated by Fake Steve Jobs, an exaggerated parody of the eccentric computer wiz who built a multi-billion dollar company from scratch.

Although “Options” is absurd in its farcical extremes, the plot revolves around actual events in the life of Steve Jobs. It takes place in the very recent past, well after Jobs struck gold with the release of the iPod. But, although he is worth $5 billion (much more if you consider the market value of his company), he is beset with legal problems that rival Martha Stuart and Enron.
Wrapped up in a scandal involving illegally backdated stock options, Jobs is skewered in the press and hounded by bigwig prosecutors with personal agendas. As Jobs attempts to dodge attorneys, Apple board members and disgruntled shareholders, he halfheartedly devotes his attention to his next groundbreaking invention—the iPhone.

Lyons, who previously authored a novel and a book of short stories, paints an unflattering portrait of Jobs. Insanely unflattering. The CEO is a self-obsessed narcissist, an extreme liberal, a Vegan health-nut and a pseudo-Buddhist who spends much of his time meditating, doing yoga or “going Zen” on people.

Although he has no problem throwing friends under the bus to save his own hide, exploiting cheap labor and firing loyal employees for no reason, Jobs considers himself a gift to the world—a brilliant artist who improves millions of people’s lives by providing them with beautiful products. He likens himself to such historic figures as Nelson Mandela, Picasso, Hemingway and Jesus. He also strictly forbids anyone to speak to him without permission or to place things on his desk. (Literally, nothing has ever sat on the surface of his desk.)

The implications of Lyons’ satire stretch well beyond Jobs to paint a stark picture of the ultra-rich culture surrounding California’s Silicon Valley. This is a world where men relax by doing things like kite-surfing or riding around in hot air balloons or having parties on 300-foot yachts. Steve gets his kicks from firing people at random, prank calling wealthy adversaries and taking bong hits with his top crony, Oracle CEO Larry Ellison. The group regularly throws extravagant, multi-million dollar galas in the name of human rights and environmental causes, which are really just excuses to schmooze and booze with fellow billionaires.

As the book progresses, Jobs begins to experience brief moments of remorse for his tyrannical and shameless money grubbing. It starts in China, where he is stung by the betrayed look of a teenage sweatshop worker who earns a few dollars a week to assemble iPod parts. It gets even worse when, in a scheme to get permission to put Beatles songs on iTunes, he causes Yoko Ono to break down sobbing after he threatens to re-record every Beatles album with Paul McCartney singing the vocal parts instead of John Lennon.

Everything comes to a tee toward the end of the book, when El Jobso has a complete breakdown while tripping on ayahuasca with a group of wealthy celebrities. (Sting curls up and spoons with Jobs to comfort him during the psychedelic episode.) That same night, Jobs makes a seriously life-altering decision.

Of course, nearly all of the events that transpire in the book have been fabricated. Did Steve Jobs really tell Hillary Clinton she had a big, fat, lumpy ass that looked like two garbage bags filled with oatmeal? Doubt it. Did Hillary, in response, actually key his Mercedes? Probably not. Did Steve, in fact, fire someone for taking a day off to go to his mother’s funeral? Maybe. Who knows? Point is, Lyons has taken tremendous license with his fiction to give us a window into the world of the decadent elite. The resulting storyline delivers little in the way of a moral message, but much in the way of laugh-out-loud hilarity. 
Taking aim mainly at renowned liberal Democrats, Lyons uses caustic satire to illustrate some rather obvious points: Many of the people who make the most noise about global warming, AIDS in Africa and world peace are the same rich misers who engage in the most profligate and ignoble behavior. In fact, these affluent public figures are truly passionate only about themselves and their money. Although he does not undergo a complete transformation in the book, Fake Steve Jobs does begin to swallow an inkling of his own hypocrisy and question the true value of his contributions to the world.
But, don’t read this book for a philosophy lesson. Read it because it’s funny as hell.

Lyons takes sidesplitting digs at everyone from Bono to Al Gore to Bill and Hillary (a.k.a. the “Clintstones”). Jobs’ personality is characterized by extreme hatred of Republicans, meat-eaters, engineers, lawyers, Windows-users and, especially, reporters. He has a handful of arrogant trademark phrases, foremost among them: “I invented the friggin’ iPod. Have you heard of it?” He also has a penchant for using words like “frigtard” to describe anyone he deems less intelligent than himself, which is just about everyone. Other preferred insults include “fuckwit” and “asshat.”

All Fake Steve Jobs really wants is to create beautiful products that make the world a better place. You may not agree that iTunes, iPods and iPhones have achieved this end, but you’ve got to hand it to Jobsy, he’s got ambition. And, it turns out, he has feelings, too. Steve Jobs may be the 132nd richest person in the world, but he’s also a human being.