You either worship the ground he walks on, or wish to file a lawsuit against him. Tucker Max is easily one of the most simultaneously despised and admired authors of our generation.
Max’s first book, “I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell,” is a #1 New York Times Bestseller and has scored the alcoholic player a movie deal and a book sequel. The narcissist released a series of 25 true short stories in his second installment of drunken stupors titled “Assholes Finish First.” Following the September 28, 2010 release is a nation-wide book tour running through the end of the year.
“Assholes Finish First” attempts to pick up where “IHTSBIH” left off, with an outrageous compilation of sex and alcohol-saturated stories. Max writes of sleeping with every type of female imaginable, his fame and getting into legal trouble. The real question that looms over his drunken escapades is: at what point does the once-unique idea that made you famous run stale?
A graduate of the University of Chicago and Duke Law School, Max’s writing comes as naturally as a fish to water. Though the idea of getting inebriated and womanizing much of the population has somewhat expired, the witty writer shines with much of his diction.
Bordering wildly inappropriate, Max’s humor must be perceived with an open mind. When referring to a portly girl in one of his stories, he writes, “On a scale of 1 to 10, she should have hung herself. Her body looked like a nesting doll made of owl pellets.”
Max’s analogies strike as comical yet offensive, especially when discussing what he and his crew have dubbed “Thug Passion,” a mix of two different types of cognac.
“It is Special Olympics in a bottle,” he says describing the after effects of the beverage.
The self-proclaimed ladies man exposes his insecurities in “The Midget Story,” stating he experienced a foreign feeling upon entering the Little People Convention: nervousness. Though Max successfully sleeps with his “midget princess,” it took him hours of courage-building drinking and a sturdy wingman to help seal the deal.
For the same reasons he receives hate mail from little people, Max isn’t favorable among all women. Why, aside from taking advantage of and verbally abusing them?
“Sounds counterintuitive, illogical, and borderline retarded? Welcome to women, enjoy your stay,” states the smug Max regarding the female gender.
In many respects, it is no surprise that the ill-famed author “grew up in a broken home with an unstable mom, an abusive, alcoholic grandmother, and an absentee father.” Max’s best friend and common guest star in his works, Slingblade, is just as hostile towards women, if not worse. Slingblade is quoted at a college Halloween party saying, “I know why God gave women mouths…but I am not sure about why they got vocal chords.”
In another of his short stories titled “The Tucker Max Experience,” Max is asked by the board of the Dallas Heart Ball to participate in an auction for charity, where the highest bidder wins a dream date with him.
Max responds to the email offer with several conditions and warnings for the winner, including, “Depending on how many beers I’ve had, I may repeatedly point to my crotch and nod approvingly. This is what I call ‘a hint.’”
In closing, Max promises the recipient, “I’ll give you a night so memorable, it’ll help you reach a place addiction specialists refer to as ‘the bottom.’”
“Assholes Finish First” surely makes for an interesting and sometimes humorous read, but lacks in depth and creativity. In short, the witty writer should have quit while he was ahead. There is nothing story-worthy about passing out in a bathtub on your 21st birthday, since many in his audience have surely been there before him. With Max’s attitude growing increasingly cockier, “Assholes Finish First” won’t be finishing first on the New York Times Bestseller list any time soon.
Kate Evans can be reached at [email protected].
