>Laurie challenged me to write about Tucker Max for BlogHer for Blog Day later this month. I thought that was a brilliant idea, once I realized that she didn't mean Tucker Carlson. (It took me a few hours.) My usual clueless self had no idea who this Tucker Max character was until Husband told some story about his book. It seems that he turned down some publishing deal because he thought he should get more money since zillions of people read his dating/sexcapade stories on his website.
"The publisher didn't think that frat guys buy books," Husband said. Long story short, Max wound up selling the book to frat boys out of an RV he rented and drove around the country.
"Serves him right, I said and folded my arms across my chest, satisfied at his failure. The stories, I was told, were very misogynistic tales of fucking whores and all that good stuff.
I never bothered going to his website and checking them out myself until yesterday when I was desperately trying to do anything but write up three months of work that I did for the city so that one day, they might actually pay me. When I read the first story, something unexpected happened: I couldn't help but like the asshole. Is he a drunkard? Totally, and I am not too keen on slobbering drunks. Is he a shithead? For sure. Are his stories not flattering to women? Absolutely. Would he probably rate me on his vile "Tucker Max Female Rating System" as "a common stock pig?" Likely, although on a good day, I might make "Respectable pig," neither of which I particularly appreciate being called. Is he a good writer? Now that I am learning about what makes good writing, I also think he is a terrible writer.
So what won me over? The man wrote a story about how he accidentally got his own jizz in his eye. Damn, that is funny. He also makes himself look every bit as bad as the women dumb enough to consort with him. (He admits that he got his own jizz in his eye! Someone crapped on him! That is funny, funny shit!) Also poetic justice is meted out in almost every story. Not that he learns any lessons per se, but he degrades himself genially along with others. And, he sort of reminds me of my friend the Big O., which scares me.
It's not like I want this dude to be a role model, which he inevitably is to the lamer portion of the male population. (Those guys will always find some douche bag to look up to, anyway.) Stories about jizzing in one's own eye will always amuse me to no end. Call me a self-loathing misogynist and take my feminist card away if you must; I can't help it.