Ĺ·±¦ÓéŔÖ

To the point: I am going to be in Anchorage, Alaska on January 6th, for one night only, and I'm throwing a party for some friends of mine, and all my fans in the area are invited as well.

So why the fuck am I going to be in Anchorage? And why only one night? Well, it's a stopover point to my final destination:

The city of Unalaska, out on the Aleutian Islands. Which is the home to Dutch Harbor. Which is where they film one of my favorite TV shows, The Deadliest Catch. And where I will be spending a week, during crab season, hanging out with the crew of the Time Bandit.

How the fuck did I become good enough friends with Jonathan Hilstrand, Mike Fourtner et al, that they invited me and my friends to come hang out with them in Dutch Harbor and ride around on the Time Bandit during crab season? It's a really good story…but I'm saving it for the next book. Assuming I make it back alive, of course.

To the point: If you are in Anchorage feel free to come out and meet me, the entire Time Bandit crew, as well as Drew Curtis (who runs Fark.com), and my friends Nils and Bunny.

Details:
When: Thursday January 6th, starting around 8pm and going to whenever
Where: Chilkoot Charlies [2435 Spenard, Anchorage AK]
Attending: Tucker Max, the crew of the Time Bandit, Drew Curtis, Nils Parker, and Bunny.
Who's invited: Everyone

[BTW--This post is not a fucking joke at all, not in the least bit. If you don't believe me, email Brad Erickson ([email protected]), the morning show DJ at KFAT 92.9, he set the whole party up (and he'll be there), he'll confirm it for you.]

This is the first story in my second book, . Buy it on , or get .

I went to law school at Duke, and as you may know, basketball is huge there. The demand for tickets, even for grad students, far outstrips the supply. In order to solve this problem, the people in charge make grad students camp out in a field to get into the lottery for the chance to get tickets. They expect you to spend a weekend sleeping in dirt and checking in every time they blow their whistles, like a fucking homeless kindergartener. You think I'm exaggerating, don't you? This is taken directly from the Duke grad student website:

"Welcome to Duke! Let's get right to the most important issue on your mind: How can YOU get season tickets to this year's men's basketball games in Cameron Indoor Stadium? Eligibility to purchase tickets is determined via the Graduate and Professional Student Council Basketball Ticket Campout. Campout for Duke Men's Basketball season will be held starting at 7:00pm on Friday, September 8, and runs through Sunday, September 10, at approximately 7am. The rules are simple: make it through the weekend without missing two attendance checks and your name is entered in a lottery. Lottery winners are then drawn and each of these lucky individuals is eligible to buy one of the 700 graduate and professional season tickets� But Campout isn't just about basketball tickets. With almost 2000 students representing nearly every program and department at the University in attendance, this is also the premier graduate and professional student social event of the year. Campout is an excellent opportunity to bond with your students in your own program and make friends in other programs."

The bolding is theirs, not mine. Not only do they want grad students to spend their limited free time toiling in a parking lot, they are condescending about it. Either that, or they're just fucking retarded—do they really think that being stuck in a parking lot with 2,000 nerds is "the premier graduate and professional student social event of the year"? Not going to a bar or to a party with your friends, or, God fucking forbid, ACTUALLY GOING TO THE GAMES. Nope, to them, the coolest thing a grad student can do is to root around in filth. I want tickets, so I have to go.

OK, fine. But if those Duke basketball tools are going to make me sleep outside for two nights, I'm going to make them pay. And not just by getting drunk and fucking their ugly girlfriends. It took me a few days, but I finally figured out how to completely ruin the event for everyone who sucks, while concurrently making it awesome for me and my friends. About two weeks before the grad student campout was to start, I was in the law library, intently focusing on my computer screen when my buddy Hate walked up.

Hate "What are you up to?"
Tucker "Ordering something online."
Hate "What, a Russian mail-order bride?"
Tucker "Better. ."
Hate "What for?"
Tucker "For Campout. Look at this one, dude: It has a one-mile range! And a 110-decibel siren! It's made for police use!"
Hate [ten-second blank stare] "Jesus have mercy on our souls."

I paid extra for 2nd day delivery. When the day of arrival came, I was so excited I stayed home from class. Waiting for the delivery guy felt like Christmas, except without the part where your parents drink all the present money and wrap up things from your room as your gifts. Credit and Hate stayed home that day too, not because they were excited about the bullhorn, but because they are dicks. They wanted to taunt me until it arrived, knowing the anticipation was slowly killing me. (That, and none of us ever went to class anyway because law school is ridiculously easy.)

Credit "Max, I haven't seen you this excited since Brad Pitt took his shirt off in Fight Club."
Tucker "Credit, you're Jewish, your best friend is black, and your girlfriend is a cheating whore. Even if I were gay, I'd still have it better than you."

When the FedEx truck finally showed up, I sprinted to the front desk. I scribbled my signature, ran back to my room, tore open the package, loaded the batteries I already purchased, then cautiously put the bullhorn up to my lips and whispered:

"Hello."

My voice boomed out of the bullhorn so crisp and loud it shocked me. I felt a strange new power surge through me. It was like I drank from the Holy Grail. I took a deep breath and bellowed:

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! CREDIT, I AM THE GREATEST MAN ALIVE!! HATE, I'M FUCKING INVINCIBLE!"

I ran out of my room into the living room. Hate was jolted forward in his recliner, white-knuckling the armrests with a look on his face like he'd just seen the devil. Credit had the same exasperated expression he got when he learned the student parking lot was a full mile away from the law school building.

Tucker "Holy shit! The volume's only at 6! It goes up to 10!"
Credit "Everyone is going to hate us."
Hate "Max, you aren't really taking that thing to Campout are you?"
Tucker [into the bullhorn] "We are friends and roommates, and yet� I feel like you don't know me at all."

I turned it down to 2—loud but still a manageable indoor volume—and spoke to everyone exclusively through the bullhorn for the next week. It became a part of me, a natural extension of my arm. I put it down only to shower and masturbate.

You know how when you pine after something really badly, like a cool toy or a new car or whatever, once you get it, it's never as good as you imagined it would be? This was the opposite. This was so much better than I could've ever dreamed. No possession of mine, before or since, has ever completed me the way that bullhorn did; it embodied all of the characteristics that I consider most essential to myself� and amplified them.

Arguing: I was pretty good at debating with people before, but now, I had a permanent trump card. How can you win an argument against someone who is louder than a chain saw? Even if you're completely right, you're wrong, because I have the bullhorn.

Humor: Everything you say becomes one level more humorous through a bullhorn. Stupid becomes passable, passable becomes funny, funny becomes hysterical, and hysterical becomes Dave Chappelle doing Rick James. I think this is because a bullhorn makes you so loud that it puts you on an imaginary stage. Just being the center of attention primes people to think you're funny—how else does Dane Cook get laughs?

Confidence: I was not lacking in confidence beforehand, but add a bullhorn and I became superhuman. It was like having a gun, except better. Walking around with a bullhorn gives all the authority of a gun, without any of the toolishness or danger of it accidentally discharging in your sweatpants. People just assume you're in charge and defer to you.

It was as if one internet purchase had suddenly made all things right in the world. Maybe the Duke nerds are right. Maybe this will be the premier social event of the year.

Campout started on Friday at 7pm, but me, SlingBlade, Credit, Hate, Jojo, and GoldenBoy got there about 5pm, so we could park our RV in a prime spot. As we pulled in and started to get situated—which for us entailed setting down the cooler and sitting around it drinking—I pondered my tactics.

Tucker "Alright fellas, what should my bullhorn strategy be?"
Hate "Break it. Or set it on fire. Anything that will get that fucking thing out of your hand."
GoldenBoy "Aren't you just gonna get drunk, yell at people, and not worry about consequences? Do you know any other way to act?"
Tucker "There is wisdom in your words."

At 7pm they blew the whistles for the first check-in. The Head Campout Nerd was giving instructions with one of those tiny little megaphones you can buy at Home Depot. He saw me and came over all excited, like we were friends: Nerd "You have a bullhorn! I have one too!" I immediately saw this encounter for what it was: my first chance to assert dominance over Campout. In the most condescending tone possible I said:

Tucker "Aren't you the cutest! And look at the toy Santa brought you for Christmas! You must have been a good boy this year!"

The dude visibly deflated. Here he was, hoping for a Bullhorn Buddy, and instead he got, well� me:

Tucker "What the fuck is that, a Speak & Spell or a See 'n Say? The frog says 'Ribbit'!"

He was about to say something, but I put my bullhorn right in his face and hit the siren trigger:

EEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRNNNNNNNNN

Tucker "Don't bring a knife to a gunfight, motherfucker. Take your Fisher-Price 'My First Megaphone' and get the fuck out of my face. This thing is made for riot control! I run Campout now, bitch!"

The dude sulked off like the old lion that gets his ass handed to him by the younger lion and won't be seeing any more lion pussy. It was awesome. Only minutes into the start of Campout and I had savaged the only challenger to my authority!

Tucker "To be the man, you gotta beat the man! And now I'm the man! WOOOOOOOOOOO!"
GoldenBoy "Rick Flair quotes? I know we're in North Carolina, but come on."
SlingBlade "Tucker is so proud of himself. He just bested a pimply, insecure 130-pound public policy student. Next up, Romper Room Smackdown."

The testosterone rush of my victory—on top of the beer I'd already drunk—put me into what could be called an "aggressive" state. Conversely, I was surrounded by the type of passive, fearful people who'd chosen to stay in school to avoid the conflict and consequences of real life. This meant I had in front of me a weekend where I could say or do anything I wanted, without worrying about anyone being able to talk over me. This must be what narcissist heaven is like. Beer in one hand and bullhorn in the other, I began my symphony of awesome:

[to a dude in a Star Wars T-shirt] "Be honest, how many times have you jacked off to a picture of Princess Leia in her metal bikini?"

[to a group of grad school students] "You look like the type of people who would criticize a misspelling in a suicide note."

[to this guy who had blond hair, was kinda fat, and wore thick glasses] "If this were Lord of the Flies, you'd be dead already."
He foolishly turned to respond. Tucker "Silence! I've got the conch now, Piggy!"

EEEEEERRRRRRRRRRNNNNNNNNN

[to some random nerd] "How hard was it choosing between the midnight showing of Rocky Horror Picture Show and Campout?"

[to a chunky girl] "Have you been tested for hoof-and-mouth disease!"
Chunkygirl "What?"
SlingBlade, who at this point was warming up to the idea of the bullhorn, took it from me and piled on: SlingBlade "Tucker, you have it wrong. Clearly she has mad cow disease."
Chunkygirl "Fuck you!"
Tucker "You're right! She's frothing at the udder!"

Some European-looking dudes in Diadora shorts walked by.
Tucker "Fact: Soccer is a game invented by European ladies to pass the time while their husbands cooked dinner. Go practice your throw-ins, you cheese-eating surrender monkey!"
GoldenBoy "You just seamlessly stole a King of the Hill quote and a Simpsons quote to form one insult. I've never been this impressed by plagiarism."
Tucker "I'm awesome even when I steal."

Many beers later, I saw what looked like a hot girl far over on the other part of the parking lot.

Tucker "Man, look at her!"
Jojo and Credit looked over, and immediately started laughing at me. A lot.
Tucker "What? She's hot!"
As she walked closer, it became very evident she…was a he.
Tucker "Come on, he has waif legs and those tight skinny jeans and long hair—how was I supposed to know it was a douche Marxist and not a girl?"
Credit "He has a beard, Tucker."
Tucker "Does he? Shit, maybe I'm drunker than I thought I was."
Jojo "Yeah, that's it."

Everyone had a great time laughing at my expense. To this day, Jojo brings this up approximately once a month. It happened TEN FUCKING YEARS AGO. He's like a woman; he never forgets anything.

Tooling on idiots is fun, but I still have a penis, and it still demands its pounding of flesh, so we decided to see what good-looking—or at least willing—girls we could find at "the premier graduate and professional student social event of the year."

Dealing with grad school girls can be tricky. At Duke there were four distinct types: insecure, fearful types hiding from the real world; the super-serious ones so brainwashed by the unreality of academia they aren't even human anymore; the ones just looking for their Mrs. degree; and the sluts. Of all the types of women, I like sluts the best. Mainly because they are the most receptive to me putting my penis in their vagina.

A group of cute girls who looked like they might be game walked by.

Tucker "Ladies, you can't be the first, but you can be the next."

They looked at me suspiciously, as they should. Most of the time I don't know what's going to come out of my mouth, and sometimes, well� it's dumb. I've found the best thing to do when you stumble is to pretend that nothing happened and just drive forward.

Tucker "In addition to the bullhorn, we have beer! And we will share it with you!"

They laughed a little but didn't come over. I decided to go for the high-risk play. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Tucker "Look, here's the deal: If you're into immature, sexually compulsive men who drink too much and need to be the center of attention at all times, you are going to find me very attractive."
SlingBlade [grabbing the bullhorn] "Don't talk to this man. He has herpes simplex 1, 2 and 3. This was a public service announcement brought to you by SlingBlade."
Tucker"IT'S IN REMISSION, ASSHOLE!"

The fact that this exchange not only made  them laugh out loud, but also got them to come hang out with us, should be all the info you need to know which grad school group they fell into. But there was a bonus: They were in nursing school. We hit the slut jackpot! Slutty nurses not only want to fuck you, they want to take care of you too. They do you, then they do your laundry. This'll be better than Shark Week!

We talked for a while (without the bullhorn), when, just making conversation, I asked one girl about her favorite movie.

Girl "I love John Cusack, especially in my favorite movie, Better Off Dead."
Tucker "Oh no�"
SlingBlade "Did we ever establish why Lane Meyer couldn't be bothered to pay the paperboy? Why he tortured him for the entire movie, without any reason?"
Girl "That was funny. 'Gimme my two dollars!' I liked that."
SlingBlade "So you think that's cool, to take goods and services from people and not compensate them? Two dollars is a meal! That's two double cheeseburgers off the McDonald's dollar menu, which can be the only source of protein for those of us whose parents abandon all financial responsibility for their children at age 18."
Girl "Umm� calm down. It's just a movie."
SlingBlade "Whatever. You're clearly a selfish whore who would run over a puppy for a guy who shows the mildest interest. I'm sure you and Tucker will get along swimmingly."

The best part about hanging out with SlingBlade is he makes me look nice by comparison. This girl wore a T-shirt that said FRONT LOADER on it. I couldn't figure out what it meant. She wouldn't tell me. This annoyed the fuck out of me, because I am smarter than she is.

Nurse "Well, if you're so smart, you should be able to figure it out."

Motherfucker. She leaves me no choice. Now I have to break her self-esteem, sleep with her, and steal the shirt. I use a basic and well-worn tactic: I subtly disapprove of her for various reasons, so that she'll be forced to seek my validation. By sleeping with me. You know, the classy and mature way to get women. One particular exchange I remember:

Girl "I'm not a slut!"
Tucker "I mean, I want to believe you, you seem like a really nice girl, but� that's not what those guys over there said about you."
Girl "They did not! What guys?"
Tucker "I don't know, they left already."
Girl "They did not!"
Tucker "Well, let's try a little test. Now, you know everyone has their price, so how about this: Would you sleep with a guy for, let's say, 100 million dollars?"
Girl "Well, I mean, I don't know� yeah, probably� I guess."
Tucker "OK. Would you sleep with a guy for 10 million dollars?"
Girl "I don't know, maybe."
Tucker "OK. Would you sleep with a guy for 10 dollars?"
Girl "No, of course not."
Tucker "Why not?"
Girl "Are you kidding? I'm not doing that."
Tucker "We've already established that you'd sleep with a guy for money, now we're just haggling over the price."

I guess she doesn't have to learn history to be a nurse, because she thought my little Winston Churchill impression was funny and original. It went on like this for another several hours, me playfully disapproving, her seeking approval, until we snuck off to the back of my SUV and I gave her my full endorsement.

It was about 2am by the time we were done. After we finished, we both wanted to get back up and start drinking more. Plus, I think she was disappointed in my performance. That, or the fact I had been drinking, sweating, and blasting out meat farts all night made me smell like a Pakistani cabdriver. Whichever.

It had been pouring rain for over five hours, everything was soaked, and people were starting to go to bed. Which SlingBlade and I decided meant a prime opportunity to fuck with people.

But before I get into that, let me digress for a second to set the scene. The most important thing you have to know about Campout is that it's not the same for everyone. There are two places to be: You can rent an RV or U-Haul, park it in the parking lot, and sleep in that, or you can pitch a tent in the field, which is at the bottom of a small hill. Even though the parking lot and field are only yards apart, they are very different worlds. RVs are nice; they have toilets, electricity, TVs, refrigeration, beds—all the comforts of modern life. Tents suck. They are nothing but walls made of thin fabric. You essentially sleep on the ground. Given the choice, most people would take the RV. But it takes money to rent an RV for a weekend, and the vast majority of grad students are broke.

Therefore, a divide develops naturally between the haves and the have-nots. The law students, business school students, and med students tend to be the ones with some excess money, so they rent the RVs and get to sleep in relative luxury in a nice clean parking lot. Pretty much every other grad school student—from political science to divinity school to environmental sciences—is stuck pitching a tent in the field below. If it's a normal September weekend in North Carolina, this is not really that bad an arrangement. But this weekend it had been raining for days leading up to Campout, including that Friday. This meant the field the poor grad students were camping out in was completely soaked—quite literally a quagmire. It was like a huge mud-wrestling pit, except filled with loser nerds instead of bikini girls.

Which brings us back to the story: SlingBlade and I had, up until this point, spent all of Campout drinking and hanging out in the parking lot. We hadn't paid any attention to Tent City. That was about to change. This was the moment I had been waiting for all week. I was Tucker Maximus: enslaved camper for an unwanted weekend, coerced supplicant for tickets that should rightfully be mine. And I would have my vengeance, in this life, right now.

Tucker "Tent City! Behold, you live in filth! Your refugee camp for poor nerds is a cesspool of poverty and excrement! You are dirtier than the abandoned children of Bowery whores!"

Some of the people who were out of their tents looked up at me quizzically.

Tucker "Tent City, do you realize how bad you smell? You are swimming in urine and feces. And for what? Crappy tickets to watch a shitty basketball team? You are a Christian Children's Fund commercial!"

One of them yelled out, "Shut up!"

Tucker "Tent City, query: Was it really worth it? Was it really worth the $30 you saved to spend the weekend mired in squalor and filth? [sniff sniff] I smell poop and bad decisions."

Someone yelled out from Tent City, "Shut up and go to bed!"

SlingBlade [taking the bullhorn] "Mom, is that you?!? STOP EMBARRASSING ME IN FRONT OF MY FRIENDS!!"

Four or five other law student friends came to join in. These weren't even my real friends, who were all asleep or being "mature." These were just guys who knew an awesome idea when they saw one, and they stood around drinking with us and laughing while SlingBlade and I continued to fuck with Tent City.

Tucker "Tent City, you are sleeping in mud and excrement. Don't believe me? I just pissed on this hill. Do you know what gravity is? Ask the physics grad students, they're down there with you because studying the underlying mysteries of the universe doesn't pay for shit!!"

Someone yelled out, "You know, there are things called BATHROOMS!"

Tucker "Toilets are for pussies and poor people!! I am a conquerer!"

Eventually some of the nerds had had enough and started congregating at the base of the hill. At its top, the hill is about 15 feet high and a good 15�30 yards from the people at the bottom. It was far enough away that you could see the people and interact with them, but not so close that you were near them in any physical sense.

RandomNerd "What gives you the right to keep us awake?"
Tucker "Because I have a bullhorn and you do not! Your fancy book learnin' should've taught you that the strong do what they want, and the weak endure what they must. Now bring me your finest meats and cheeses, and be quick about it!"

There were about six of them, and they all kept yammering at me. It was hilarious.

Tucker "I'm sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of how awesome I am. Please speak up."

They actually yelled louder.

Tucker "Again, I can't hear you, because� I HAVE A BULLHORN."

They kept jabbering at an even louder volume, and this one dude in particular was fuming. He kinda stepped forward wildly gesticulating at me.

Tucker "I want to keep doing this to see how long you will argue with a man who can speak 100 times louder than you. I bet you are sociology grad students; only an overdeveloped sense of justice can create this kind of indignation."

A few of them actually chuckled, and one girl nodded her head—I WAS RIGHT! Three of them, including the supermad dude, were soc grad students! And of course, this just made him madder. There is nothing funnier than a disproportionate display of inappropriate and overwrought anger. You know, when someone really fucking loses their cool and completely explodes over something small? To me, that is the height of comedy, and I was determined to make this dude flip his shit.

Tucker "Oh, this is just awesome. Define 'post-structuralist' for me."

He actually started to define it! Like an idiot I laughed instead of letting him finish, and he immediately realized the joke was on him. Fortunately, all of us laughing at him must have taken him to his breaking point, because he walked a few steps up the hill and, shaking with anger, busted out this unforgettable quote:

SociologyNerd "'Against stupidity, the gods themselves contend in vain!'� Friedrich von Schiller!"
Tucker "HAHAHAHAHAH! Did you just quote a German philosopher at me? You're standing in mud and piss at 2am, and you just quoted a German philosopher at me?"
SlingBlade "I think he's calling you out."
Tucker "OK, I can play this game too. 'Stop ya cryin' heifer, I don't need all dat!'� Mystikal!"
SociologyNerd "'Wise men talk because they have something to say; fools, because they have to say something'� Plato!"

I can quote rap lyrics until the sun comes up. But instead, I opted to come over the top and play the nerd trump card on him:

Tucker "Let's settle this once and for all. I'll give you the chance to save Tent City. Throw something at me—anything you want—and if you DON'T throw like a girl, I'll leave right now. I swear on my bullhorn."

The Sociology Nerd paused, thought about it, got a look of unbridled hatred on his face, adjusted his glasses, and stormed off in a huff.

SlingBlade "HAHAHAHAHHHAHA!!! IT'S LIKE LITTLE LEAGUE ALL OVER AGAIN!"
Tucker "You can run away to your burlap sack, but it won't save you from my bullhorn! I am the ruler of Tent City!"

All of the nerds got mad, but their anger never went beyond passive-aggressive complaining. People came and went, some people tried to yell over us, some tried pleading, some tried reasoning, and some just threw things (all like girls). By about 3am, we'd woken up and pissed off enough people that something resembling a mob had assembled. But they STILL wouldn't do anything other than mill around and be angry. One tool in particular was fed up.

Tool "If we come up there, you're through!"

Unlike this bald-headed tool, I knew my Greek history, so I said the same thing to him that the Spartans said to Philip of Macedon when he sent them a message saying, "If I enter Laconia, I will level Sparta to the ground."

Tucker "If."
Tool "Yeah, IF, buddy, IF!"

It's frustrating when you make a smart joke, and even a nerd doesn't get it. OK, fine, let's see if he can detect condescension:

Tucker [in baby voice] "Who's dat widdle guy down dere making all dat big noise? He's jus so leetle! Coochie-coochie-cooo!"

That did it. Four of them got up their courage and ran up the hill. I know the one dude had just "threatened" me, but in the moment, it honestly didn't even occur to me that they would try to get physical. These grad students had taken our relentless mocking for hours because they were pussies. I mean, pussies are pussies—it's not just a word.

When they got to the top of the hill, they saw all my friends behind us that they couldn't see from down below, and they kinda stopped and milled around for a second, unsure of what to do. You know that scene in Braveheart where the two guys pretend to be lost so they can get the English to chase them, and the English take the bait, only to run into a huge group of Scots over the hill, and they become the prey? It was like that. Except with nerds. Seeing their body language completely change, I figured this out� but was in such disbelief, I put the bullhorn down for a second:

Tucker "Wait� did you storm up here� thinking we'd run off?"

The embarrassed silence was all the confirmation I needed.

SlingBlade "HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHHAHHHAHAH! Oh my God, that's so precious!"

I fucking lit them up:

Tucker "WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO??? NOTHING!! YOU'RE GOING BACK DOWN TO YOUR MUDDY GHETTO! YOU CAN'T BEAT ME! I HAVE A BULLHORN, AND YOU HAVE NOTHING, BECAUSE I AM SMART AND YOU ARE STUPID! NOW GET THE FUCK OFF MY HILL, YOU FUCKING PUSSIES!"

They milled around for a second more, then walked back down the hill. I don't know if I've ever felt more like a real warrior in my life.

Tucker "TENT CITY, YOUR PITIFUL ASSAULT HAS BEEN REPELLED! I AM YOUR CONQUERER AND YOU ARE ALL MY SUBJECTS! BOW BEFORE ME!!" [to SlingBlade] "This is so awesome! This must be like what Alexander the Great or Genghis Khan felt like!"
SlingBlade "Jesus Christ, you are delusional."
Tucker "To be the man, you gotta beat the man! WOOOOOOOOO! And at Campout, I'M THE MAN! WOOOOOOOOO!"

I proclaimed sovereignty over Tent City for another ten minutes in various different ways, and after vowing to return the next day to continue my rule, we went to bed. After twelve hours of dedicated drinking, we'd finally hit our wall.

The Next Day

We didn't wake up until around 2pm. Once we beat back our hangovers with a 12 pack, SlingBlade came upon this one RV with an awesome spread of food—not just cheap hot dogs and sausages, they had gourmet shit. Judging by the quality and quantity, they were those rare type of grad students who actually had real money of their own, not just government loans. This can mean only one thing: business school tools.

In order to go to business school, you have to have worked for a few years and been good at it, so most of them have money saved. As a result, they not only have cooler stuff than the rest of us, they think they are better'n everyone. I decide to fix that for them. I moseyed over, grabbed one of their bottles of wine, and started chugging it. A girl gasped out loud.

Tucker "Well, I'm sorry, your highness, but I happen to think wine tastes better out of a bottle!"

The entire group looked at me like I had just dropped a steamer in their shrimp platter, except one girl who laughed, so I talked to her.

FunGirl "So you're the bullhorn guys? I heard them planning your demise this morning in Tent City."
Tucker "I will crush their puny rebellion. Blood alone moves the wheels of history!"

As I housed their food and hit on the cute girl, SlingBlade tried to run interference before our inevitable eviction, but one bitchy girl was quite persistent:

BitchyGirl "Your friend brought a bullhorn to Campout? I mean, who does he think he is?"
SlingBlade "You must be lucky enough to not have met Tucker."
BitchyGirl "Why is he drinking our wine? And eating my pâté?"
SlingBlade "He has what the DSM IV refers to as Narcissistic Personality Disorder. Also, I believe that he is out of beer."

I think the fact that I was flirting with her friend actually pissed her off more than me drinking the wine and eating her goose liver. She was the type who would cockblock endangered pandas at the zoo.

BitchyGirl "Can I ask you a question?"
Tucker "If you wonder whether you're fat, you probably are."
BitchyGirl "Uhh� no, what I wanted to ask�"
Tucker "Yes, you could stand to lose a few pounds."
BitchyGirl "And you don't think you could stand to drink less?"
Tucker "Daddy drinks because otherwise he can't justify having sex with you."
BitchyGirl "Have sex with you? HA! You wish!"
Tucker "You can pretend you aren't into me to keep up appearances, but you know you're moist right now."
BitchyGirl "UGH! I could not find you more unattractive. You're slurring your speech, you have a shirt on that is two sizes too small, is covered in mustard stains and says FRONT LOADER on it, you reek of cheap beer and sex, and you clearly have a drinking problem."
Tucker "Drinking is a problem only if you're not good at it. To me, everything you listed is proof that I am very good at it." BitchyGirl "You disgust me."
Tucker "I will not apologize for being awesome."

At some point we found ourselves at the Porta Potties. SlingBlade went into one, but I had to wait because the other was occupied. He came out laughing.

SlingBlade "I just dropped a deuce that could sink the Titanic."
Tucker [I was so in shock, I put the bullhorn down] "You took a dump in a Porta Potty? What is wrong with you?"
SlingBlade "Alcohol has made me impervious to your attempts at shaming."

The guy in my Porta Potty came out. As I opened the door to go in, I recoiled in terror.

Tucker "OHH! That is AWFUL!"

He started walking away, like everything was just fine and dandy.

Tucker "Hey you, come back here. Do you know what you just did in that bathroom?"
Guy "Yeah� I uh� sorry about that, man."
Tucker "Come here and smell this."
Guy "What?"
Tucker "DO IT NOW!"

Thus is the power and authority of the bullhorn: The guy actually walked back to the Porta Potty and took a sniff.

Guy "Yeah, so?"
Tucker [angry astonishment] "Yeah, so? That smell is not [air quotes] 'just went to the bathroom.' That is felonious assault on a toilet. You have raped my olfactory senses. Apologize."
Guy "What?"
Tucker "APOLOGIZE RIGHT NOW!"
Guy "OK, fine…whatever…I'm sorry."

Had we not been drinking for 24 hours straight, and had I not conquered an entire city the night before, I don't think I would have tried this. But the bullhorn had emboldened me:

Tucker "Now apologize to the toilet."
Guy "Dude, what?"
Tucker "Repeat after me: I am very sorry and greatly embarrassed that my excretory system could produce such a smell. I promise to eat more bran to prevent such things in the future. Please accept my apology."
Guy "Are you nuts?"
Tucker "I SAID DO IT!"

I was pretty much joking with the guy, and fully expected him to either walk off or punch me in the face. There is just no legitimate reason to obey me. I was just some drunk idiot yelling at him with a bullhorn…but he gave in and basically said it. After he left, I stood there in mild shock.

Tucker "Did I really just use the bullhorn to make a dude apologize…to a port-a-potty…for taking a smelly dump?"
SlingBlade "That thing is too powerful. It's like the One Ring that rules them all. After Campout, we have to find a volcano and throw it in."
Tucker "Let's make Hate do it. He hates the bullhorn, plus he's short like a Hobbit."
SlingBlade "Credit can go with him. He's a Jew, like Gollum."

We chilled the rest of the afternoon and evening, planning out how we would fuck with Tent City again that night. But this time, the nerds had come prepared. They must have had spies watching us, because before we even got to the ridge to start our second assault on Tent City, they were standing there with a DukeCop. Still drunk on alcohol and the testosterone rush of the previous night, I decided to handle this the logical way, as Lord Tucker Max, Tent City Conqueror:

Tucker "What's the problem, Officer?"
DukeCop "You need to stop using the bullhorn."
Tucker "What? Why?"
DukeCop "The proper response to a lawful order is not 'Why?'"
Tucker "But officer, I don't think you understand," [I hold it front of his face as if he hadn't seen it yet] "I have a bullhorn."

You know that look a cop gives you when he's so confused that he doesn't even know how to respond? If you don't know that look, it means you haven't had enough fun in your life. He gave me that look.

DukeCop "You have to stop using the bullhorn for the rest of Campout."
Tucker "Officer, I can't stop. I am the ruler of Tent City!"

It was at this point the cop realized I wasn't crazy or stupid, just really drunk.

DukeCop "You're not in charge, you're not even on the Graduate Council. I am a law enforcement officer, and I am giving you a lawful command. You can obey it, or I can arrest you and confiscate the bullhorn."

I was not prepared for this gambit. I turned to SlingBlade:

Tucker "What do we do?"
SlingBlade "Stop using the bullhorn."
Tucker "Isn't there some way around this?"
SlingBlade "I don't know. I don't take Criminal Procedure until next semester. But I don't think so."
Tucker "Does it matter that he's a campus cop and not a real cop?"
SlingBlade "We're on Duke's campus. He also has a taser. Taser beats bullhorn."
Tucker "Shit."

On Day 1, I subjugated all of Tent City. On Day 2, I was defeated by a single rent-a-cop. To fuck with me, SlingBlade took the bullhorn from me and addressed Tent City:

SlingBlade "You are safe to go back to sleep. Tucker has been bested and the bullhorn problem is taken care of. I repeat, the bullhorn problem has been taken care of."
DukeCop "Hey! That means you too. NO ONE gets to use it again. If I have to come back, you're all getting arrested."

As I started to go back to my RV, head hung low in shame, I could faintly hear someone yell out from deep within Tent City:

"I guess the man got beat! WOOO!"

Motherfucker. Even ten years later, it still upsets me that my reign as conqueror lasted only a single night. I had so many people left to insult and piss off.

It's OK though, I got the last laugh. In the intervening years, my notoriety has made it so that all those people who were there, when they tell other people where they went to school, invariably have to answer this question, "You went to Duke? Did you know Tucker Max?"

I may have lost the battle, but I won the war.

Thanks: First off, I just want to thank everyone who came out to the signings, you guys were awesome and I appreciate everyone who came out (with the exception of the five morons).

How to get a signed copy of AFF: If you want a signed copy of "Assholes Finish First" but couldn't make it out to a tour stop, you can . I only have 100 signed copies of AFF left, so if you want one, get it now.

How to get a signed copy of IHTSBIH: You can . There are substantially more of these than there are signed copies of AFF, but they're not unlimited. I signed several thousand, and once they're gone, that's it.

Funny Pictures: This was the night my tour assistant, Brittney "The Skank Whisperer" Cason . I have a midget on my shoulders and a giant next to me holding the umbrella (she's 6'3"). Not pictured: The five deaf girls with me.

-Someone at the Philly stop has a sense of humor. Click the picture to see the title of the white book.

-My protestors are getting pathetically lazy. They taped this to the outside of the store in Boston and just left.

-About to start the signing at Walter Reed Army Medical Center.

-I'm so big in Portland, even Jesus came out to see me.

-In Tampa, a pregnant woman wanted me to sign her stomach. So I put this:

-In LA, did Dr. Drew for the third time. Pretty much my favorite press thing to do, and the only thing I like about LA.

-I got served with a law suit, right before the Charlotte book signing. It was pretty funny.

-This dude was at the Charlotte signing. As soon as I saw him, I yelled out "BABY RUUUTH!!" Without even flinching, he yelled back "FRIIIIEEEEND!!" So awesome.

-This is the clincher. In Denver, this dude came out, got me to sign his back, and then got it TATTOOED INTO HIS BACK. Wow:

Book reviews: I didn't send my book out for reviews, because my first one sold millions of copies without them, and this book debuted at #3 on the best seller list without them, so fuck it. But some people did reviews anyway, and they were pretty much all positive; , with .

Nightline: I did a ton of press for the tour, most of it uninteresting, but .  (except for the fact that they interviewed me for 25 minutes about Karen Owens, and showed none of it. So I wrote something about her and The Duke Fuck List and put it here)

More press: These are some more articles or interviews or random things that I thought were pretty good or worth reading:

The numbers: Over 32 stops I signed a total of 10,200 books, which averages about 320 books a stop. I have no idea how many pictures I took or how many people I met or how much I drank or any of that shit or how many girls I hooked up with; at some point, you just stop counting.

[Please forgive the relatively raw and unedited nature of this post, and the fact that it's a few weeks late, but I am still on the book tour for .]

I've had a ton of bullshit forwarded to me, but in the eight years my website has been up, there are two things that have been sent to me more than anything else: , and Karen Owen's mock thesis, known as "The Duke Fuck List." [If you don't know what that is, stop reading this now, it'll be pointless. If you want a quick breakdown of the facts, . To see the actual unedited Powerpoint slides, .]

And EVERYONE who sent it to me wanted to know what I thought about it. Not just randoms either; a lot of media came to me for comment. I usually ignore all media requests for commentary (much to the frustration of my PR guy, Jeff Chassen), but when Nightline asked me to do an extensive interview about it, I agreed. I figured this would be a perfect way to get my thoughts on record without having to spend the time writing out something long and exhaustive.

They filmed a 30 minute interview with me, 25 about Karen Owens and 5 minutes about the general college sexual experience. And of course . That's super, thanks.

So during a long plane flight I wrote out my basic thoughts:

1. The Duke Fuck List was not written for public consumption: This is the most important thing to remember, and it should color every piece of analysis on this subject: She did NOT intend this list for public consumption and did not ask for this attention.

And these are her most private thoughts that were written with an audience of her closest friends in mind. We are reading her diary, that we go access to by accident. Just put yourself in her position: What if someone published your diary, against your wishes? Or printed the lewd conversations you have with your best friends? You know what would happen? EXACTLY what happened to Karen Owens. Somerset Maugham wasn't kidding when he said "There is hardly anyone whose sexual life, if it were broadcast, would not fill the world at large with surprise and horror."

Obviously it was very stupid for her to put the real names of the guys she fucked into this list, but she made a mistake. We all do. So many people made the assumption that she's just a media whore looking for attention, but not only has she not taken any of book or TV deals offered, she's gone into hiding. Why do you think she did that? I'll tell you why: She did not do this on purpose, and she is freaking the fuck out over the reaction to it. Not many people can handle the spotlight searing into them at full blast. You have to be either very emotionally strong, or crazy, to be able to endure the abuse you have to take when the focus of the world goes onto you. So before you say anything about her–good or bad–remember that it's not fair to evaluate someone based on their private diary that was published without their permission.

2. All the negative media commentary about her is bullshit: The first reaction I saw was people calling her a whore, and yelling about how she represents everything wrong with society and women and all sorts of other bullshit.

I mean, come on. She fucked 13 Duke athletes over 4 years of college. So what? I'm awesome, not a statistician, but 3+ guys a year seems very average to me. If you think that behavior makes her a whore, you don't know what a real whore is.

Granted–that number is ONLY Duke athletes, and not the total number of dicks she had in her. But even if you double it to 26…well yes, that's a little slutty, but it is a crazy outlandish number that proves she's the world's biggest skank? Not even close. I went to Duke for law school and fucked a bunch of undergrad girls when I was there and I doubt she is even an outlier among socially active girls at Duke. This behavior is very normal.

And seriously, all these talking head idiots need to shut the fuck up about every little thing they don't like representing moral decline. People have been fucking and sucking and doing debaucherous shit since ancient Rome. If you're calling her a whore, either you are very naive and don't know what a real whore is, or you've done the same thing and are being a lying hypocrite about it.

Make no mistake about it, that's what most of the media commentators taking huge shits on Karen Owens are–hypocrites. They are just using her predicament to advance their own agendas or as a pedestal to proclaim their own moral righteousness. How many fundamentalist preachers and anti-gay Senators have to get caught having sex with men before people understand that the ones who oppose something the most in public are usually guilty of it in private?

3. The positive commentary misses the point too: As a reaction to the negative commentary, there was a wave of people defending her, mainly by calling her "empowered." The first time I read this I laughed out loud. Surely only a dumb sorority girl looking for justification for all the dicks she sucked last weekend would think this girl is empowered. Then I saw it over and over again…and realized people were serious. I'm all for hooking up and having fun, but do people really think a drunk slut throwing herself at athletes is empowering?

No fucking chance. I will explain to you what is really going in the simplest terms possible:

To most of the guys on her list, Karen Owens was nothing more than life support for a vagina. Which is fine…except she doesn't understand that at all, and that is the opposite of empowering.

You can easily find a picture of Karen online, and if you do, you'll see what I am talking about. She's a cute girl, but not smoking hot, the type that you'll fuck if it's easy and there. And that is exactly what she did: Make herself easy and accessible to the guys on her list. I mean, look at how she describes meeting one:

"After many long looks exchanged between us on the path to and from Wilson Gymnasium, he finally approached at Shooters II and asked for a dance before suggesting that we exit the premises."

From there she went home and fucked him. Hardly even had a conversation. That's empowering? BULLSHIT.

I know too well the reality of the situation, because I've been the guy that the Karen Owen type goes after too many times. For a high status guy who gets lots of girls–e.g. an athlete at Duke–Karen Owen is nothing more than a piece of easy ass. Why? Because that's the way she acts. Any guy who's been with a bunch of girls has a ton of these girls in his past. She tried to make it sound like she was using these guys for her experiment, but that was only the explanation she tacked onto her actions afterwards. That's not what was happening in the moment; no, at the time, it was the guys who were using her. Except she doesn't understand that at all. The best evidence of that is her words:

"On the way out, we walked past Joe Tkac (lacrosse), who took one look at me, said 'Oh heyyy, Karen…what are you up to tonight?' and died laughing."

Honey, they are laughing AT YOU, because they all know something that you seem to not understand: they see you as nothing more than a cum-dumpster to them, a slut that they can all pass around and have fun, like a party game: Pour beer down her throat for two hours, her legs open, have your fun, and move on.

If you still don't get it, and still think her actions were empowering, explain this paragraph:

"He was the first guy I have hooked up with that kept an intense level of eye contact throughout the hookup, which honestly brought the entire experience to a level of hotness that I had never before experienced."

That's describing the guy she gave the highest score too. Go look at the actual scores: The only two guys she gave a 12/10 to are the two that treated her the least like a whore. Pretty much all the rest treated her like a skank, and she subconsciously graded them lower because of it. She thinks she's a participant in this game, but she's not, she is the one getting exploited, and she doesn't even have the self-awareness or understanding of her own emotions enough to see it.

Here's the deal: A woman can sexually active and explore lots of men, and can make it empowering. But the key to that is SELF-AWARENESS. Karen has none of that. She acted like a cum-dumpster giving her vagina away like it's a free refill at McDonald's, but then tried to only evaluate the actions of the guys who fucked her, without even giving a passing glance to her own behavior or emotions.

That's not empowering. That is being blind to the nature of your own life, which is just sad.

4. Comparing the two of us: Though she actually mentions me by name in her thesis, I think any comparison between the two of us, either good or bad, is bullshit. Which makes sense, because it was a HarperCollins editor that made the comparison first, and they're all morons. We have two meaningful things in common that I can see:

-We both went to Duke
-We both write about our sex life in explicit and honest terms

That's it. If anything, there are more differences than there are similarities, in terms of writing style, humor, content voice, etc. And in all honesty, I thought her thesis was a little boring. The only good part was her honesty; anytime she got long-winded and started going into detail, it got tedious and bogged down in bullshit. But again, considering she wrote it for her friends, this is normal; they can fill in the context in a way we can't so again, it's unfair to judge her writing based on this alone.

5. There is no double standard in how she's being treated: The entire idea that she's being criticized because of a double standard is complete bullshit. If you don't believe that, look at the difference in how the media treats me versus how they treat Chelsea Handler. She writes about doing the exact same things I do; I'm called a misogynist, she's called empowered. Or Sarah Silverman, who makes rape jokes–and I don't–yet I'm called a promoter of rape culture, and she is called a feminist. Get the fuck out of here with that double standard bullshit. If there is a double standard, it's actually the other way around at this point; women can get away with much more in media than men can.

Don't get me wrong: Karen Owens got SHIT ON by a lot of people, and I think it was total crap the way it happened, but the REAL reason she's being criticized has nothing to do with a mythical double standard. So why is it?

6. She told the truth, and people can't handle that: There is one other similarity between her writing and mine, and it explains why her list got so much commentary, both good and bad:

Her list is something that almost nothing in media is: Raw and authentic and honest, and THAT is why so many people freaked out over it.

Whatever else you want to say about the Duke Fuck List, the one thing you MUST say is that it is really fucking honest, and honesty is something most people can't handle. In fact, I'll go so far as to say that she is one of the very first female sex writers I've ever seen who embraced the realtiy of her sluttiness and sexuality and openly discussed it as it happened, without projecting some idealized, unrealistic version of herself to the reader. The average female sex writing is a just an annoying mix of bluster, whore logic, fake confidence and bullshit. Not since Barbie Cummings have I read a female sex blogger with even the faintest shred of willingness to admit to the reality of her most lewd acts, but Karen does that in spades.

Don't believe the morons who think the attention she got is because she's a woman writing about sex. That's bullshit; women have been writing about sex like Karen Owens for centuries. Christ, one episode of Sex and The City is more scandalous than anything in her list. And you can't open a college newspaper without some stupid cum-dumpster . No, she got attention because it is what none of that shit is: Honest.

The only reason people cared because here was a real, honest record of a real girl saying the things so many girls think, but none say. Whenever anyone does that, especially about sex, the world sits up and takes notice. Anyone remember Jackie Kim, the girl who wrote the email to her friend about how she was evaluating a guy she went on a date with? Or Jessica Cutler, who's blog was . Why did EVERYONE read her blog, yet no one read her book? Because her book was just a jumble of stupid ex-post whore-rationalizations. Her blog was honest and authentic.

Why do you think my writing is so popular? It's honest. That's what all the idiots who try to imitate me don't get. It's not about the drinking or the fucking or the crazy stories. It's not even about the funny as much as it's about the honesty. No one is ever honest, but when you are, when you say the things everyone knows but won't admit, it's so shocking and amazing that the world can't help but stop and look.

But here's the thing about being honest: All the liars HATE you for it, and most of the people in the world are liars. They lie to their bosses, they lie to their families, they lie to themselves, they lie so much they don't even know they're lying anymore. If you have the courage to be honest–even a little bit–all those people will hate you for it, because their lie is reflected in your honesty.

Oscar Wilde wasn't kidding when he said, "If you want to tell people the truth, make them laugh, otherwise they'll kill you." Karen now understands the reality of this statement as much as I do.

7. She's a college girl, stop expecting her to understand everything: There is nothing stupider than holding a college student to a standard of behavior and understanding that is decades above her age. I think most people have forgotten that she's only 22. I was a fucking idiot at 22. No one has any idea what they're doing at that age, why should we all expect her to?

In fact, you know how I learned what I know? BY DOING WAY MORE AWFUL SHIT THAN WHAT SHE DID. How do you understand where your limits are? Push them. How do you figure out what you want from life? Try everything and see what fits. How do you know what not to do? Do it, and see how much it sucks. Success doesn't teach anything except to repeat what you just did. Failure and experimentation are what instruct, and that's what she did. Not only is there nothing wrong with that, it's what she SHOULD be doing. There is no other way to learn what life is without actually living it.

Did she learn the lessons she should have learned? Will she understand all the things she needs to from her experiences? Well, she damn sure didn't when she wrote that piece, but who does understand it at that age? I'm 35 and I'm only barely beginning to get it. All the shit I've written about self-awareness is completely true, but I knew precisely 0% of that when I was her age. People are holding her to a standard that they did not uphold at her age, nor probably uphold now. There is nothing worse than demanding something from someone else that you don't do yourself.

8. Leave her alone: In the end, Karen Owen is a pretty normal 22 year old girl, who made the mistake of trusting a friend with something she never should have. Her worst flaw as a person is probably that she's very lonely, and because she doesn't know how to handle this, was a bit slutty in college and got used by a bunch of guys, then invented a narrative to rationalize the behavior in her mind.

So what? We've all done something like that in our lives too. She did nothing wrong, she didn't hurt anyone (on purpose), and she isn't a symbol of anything, good or bad, about America. She's just a little girl who didn't ask for this attention, doesn't know how to handle it, and just wants it to end, and all of us should understand that and leave her alone.

First off, I want to thank all my fans for their support. I say this all the time and I mean it: I may be an asshole, but I love my fans, because without all of you, I couldn't do this. So thanks again for your amazing support so far.

-Fan response: One week into the release of the book, and the fan response has been amazing. It's not easy to follow up a classic like IHTSBIH, but it looks like AFF is standing up well, and people are loving the book even more than I could have hoped. I'm on tour so I don't have time to respond to most people's emails/tweets/posts, but I'll sit down and post the best fan reviews later this month. My favorite so far, "If IHTSBIH was a level three sex offender, Assholes Finish First is the Catholic Church."

-Sales: S&S doesn't want me to disclose specific sales numbers, but I can say that they are extremely good, good enough that the book will debut at #3 on the NY Times Hardcover Nonfiction Best Seller List. I was beaten out by Jon Stewarts news book, and the Bob Woodward tell-all about Obama. I'm OK with following those two (and by the way, IHTSBIH is STILL on the paperback list, almost five years after it came out).

-Audiobook: I forgot to mention this in my last post, but the audiobook is available. Buy it on , , , or . I recorded the audio book, btw, just like I did for IHTSBIH.

-IHTSBIH hardcover: I also forgot to mention that my old publisher released a of IHTSBIH. It's a run of 30k only, and not only that, but I actually signed EVERY SINGLE FUCKING COPY. of the inserts that were sent to my apartment to sign. I signed 1000 of these a day for a MONTH. I put my dog in them so you could get perspective on the number of inserts I had to sign (she's a 50 pound mutt, btw). It was ridiculous, but they are all actually signed by me, every single one.

-Quotes: Judging by what people are posting on Twitter and Facebook, AFF is just as quotable as IHTSBIH. I have set up a quote page on my site, where people can submit their own favorite quotes from the book, so feel free to .

-Price: Some people have complained about the price of AFF. It is listed at $25, and with tax, that can be nearly $30 at bookstores. I understand that's very high, and some people can't afford it. If price is an issue to you, my suggestion would be to either buy it from (about $15, same price as a paperback), or buy it on the or on iBooks (both $12.99).

-The Book Tour: So far the tour has been great, but I am getting some of the same questions at each stop:

1. Who my assistant is: My tour assistant is . I left my regular assistant, Ian Claudius, in Austin, mainly because he has a new puppy, but also because I wanted a girl with me on this tour–for many reasons, some of which I am sure you can guess after reading the second half of AFF. And to answer the question I get at every stop: WE ARE NOT FUCKING. If you are a girl and want to hit on me in front of her, please do. I have never slept with her, am not currently sleeping with her, nor will I ever sleep with her. But fellas, she's single, so please feel free to hit on her if you want. I don't shit where I eat, but you're welcome to.

2. Protestors: It's kinda sad; my protestors are getting really lazy. So far they've only shown up at the Boston stop, and only left this .

3. Going to a signing: I'll say this again: YOU DO NOT HAVE TO BUY THE BOOK AT THE STORE TO COME TO THE SIGNING. Anyone can come to any signing, and get pictures, have me sign an old book, whatever. Anyone can get in line at any signing, and if ANYONE tells you different, come find me at the signing and I'll make sure it's taken care of.

3. Biggest question I'm getting on the tour: I think maybe it was inspired by the I wrote for Tim Ferriss' blog, or about the part in AFF where I wrote about how broke I was when I first started writing, but for whatever reason, I have gotten a ton of questions from people about the specifics of becoming or being a writer. I am on tour right now, so I can't really sit down and write something comprehensive about this, but when I get back to Austin, I'll do that. I think most people have a very wrong idea of what it takes to be a professional writer, why they should do it, and how they should do it, and that's been made very clear through the questions I'm getting, so I'll try to do a comprehensive piece about that soon.

1. Buy the book: My new book "Assholes Finish First" is now available for purchase at any local book store, or get it online from these places:

-

-

-

-

It is available in all other formats too, e.g., audio book, Kindle, Nook, iBooks, etc, all listed on those links.

2. Book tour: In case you haven't heard, my book tour starts today, with one signing in New York City and one in New Jersey, and there are 31 more cities after that, check them all out here:

3. Merchandise: I have some t-shirts, pint glasses, and some other things now for sale on my merchandise page,

4. More pictures from the book: My publisher, Simon & Schuster, is kinda cheap, and wouldn't spring for me to put every picture I wanted to in the book. The ones they left out, WARNING: Some of these pictures contain spoilers for stories in the book, so you might want to read the book before you look at the pics. But its up to you.

5. Quote page: I added the to my site. I pulled out like 50 or so quotes from "I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell" the book and 25 from the movie. I have yet to pull any out from "Assholes Finish First"–there is a form at the bottom that you can use to submit your favorite quote from the book.

comes out on September 28th, and I have finalized the 2010 Book Tour schedule. It'll be 34 signings, most of them in places I've never had book signings before.

To answer the questions I've been getting:

1. "Can I go to the NYC Book Launch Party?": Yes. The launch party info:

Friday, September 24th

9pm-12pm

3 Sheets Saloon

134 W. 3rd [btw 6th Ave. and MacDougal]

New York, NY

Open to the public

The book will NOT be for sale in stores until September 28th, but I WILL have a few hundred books at that party for sale, so if you're so desperate to get the book that you can't wait four extra days, plan to be at that party. The party itself will be at a normal bar and pretty low key, nothing fancy. I'm very content with just beer, friends, and hot girls.

2. "How do the signings work?": Pretty simple: You show up with a copy of my new book, I sign it, take pictures if you want, etc. I won't be doing readings of my book like some authors do (they're lame), but there may be a few places where I do a Q&A. Of course it costs nothing to get the book signed (beyond the cost of the book itself), or to get pictures, and I'll personalize my signing, or even sign anything additional of mine you bring (new book, old book, DVD, t-shirts, whatever). I always try to be as cool to my fans as possible, so anything reasonable, I'm down for.

I have told this to all the bookstores, and I don't anticipate any issues–but some places sometimes make up their own annoying rules about signings. If anyone at any store tries to dick you around, just find my tour assistant, tell her what's up, and she'll make it right. I only mention this because I HATE it if a book store employee is a dick to my fans and I don't hear about it until later, so there's no way for me to fix it. I want my fans to have a good experience, and to make sure that happens, I want you to know going in what to do if something goes wrong.

3. "Why don't you have any Canadian signings?": I want to do a Canadian signing tour. I'd love to hit Vancouver, Toronto, Montreal, Calgary, etc. Here's the problem: My publisher, Simon & Schuster, has a separate Canadian division, and they apparently don't pay for authors to do signings in Canada. I'd like going to Canada, but I'm not paying out of my pocket to do it. I'll do my very best to figure out a way to make this work, but Canadian fans–please understand I am not skipping you for any reason in my control.

4. "What about [insert city]? Why didn't you come there?": I KNOW there are a ton of American cities I am not hitting on this tour. I only had about six weeks to tour, so I couldn't hit everywhere. Yes, I would love to go back to Pittsburgh and Raleigh and Gainesville and any number of other great cities I've been before, but I made a conscious effort to hit cities that I'd never done signings in. Don't worry though, if I missed your city on this tour, I will almost certainly hit it on the book tour for my third book, Hilarity Ensues, which'll be fall of 2011.

5. "I have a press request, who do I direct it to?": I will be available for at least some press at each stop. All press inquiries, direct to my PR guy, Jeffrey Chassen: [email protected]

NOTE: Special guests at some signings: A few of the signings will have special guests. I can't make any promises about who will be coming to what stops. I will say that the list includes many people who were involved in the stories, including my law school friends–notably SlingBlade. I am going to get him out to at least one or two stops (probably the Midwest ones). And at least one of the signings will have a midget–or possibly two–that is featured in the book (probably an east coast stop). I won't post details about these beforehand–it'll be a surprise to the people who show up.

NOTE: Two signings on release day: On Tuesday, Sept 28th, there is a noon signing at the Wall Street Borders in Manhattan, and then a 7pm signing in Ridgewood, New Jersey. Every other day is just one signing a day.

Tour Wrap Party: The tour wrap party will immediately after the last signing in, Austin, Texas. It will also be open to the public, and should be a really good time. I will post details about this too when they are finalized.

We have finalized the 2010 Book Tour schedule for . It's going to be about 31 signings, most of them in places I've never had book signings before.

, go there for details.

To answer the questions I've been getting:

1. "Can I go to the NYC Launch Party?": Yes. The launch party for the book is Friday, September 24th, in NYC and will be open to the public. I will post details about it later. The book will NOT be for sale in stores...

TuckerMax.com originally started kind of by accident, as a bet between me and some friends.

A few days after I ended another in the seemingly endless three week relationships I have with the seemingly endless stream of girls I meet, my friend Amy and I were discussing how I should procure another of these said relationships. Amy had recently been browsing the Internet (looking for lesbian donkey porn, no doubt) and came across a date page where a girl asks guys to fill out an application to...

This is the Date Application Form that was the original iteration of the site. It's not a functioning form anymore, so please don't cut and paste it into an email to send me. If you are a girl, just email me ([email protected]) with a picture and make it clear you don't want to play games.

The Tucker Max Date Application

Your name:

Your email:

Your age:

Your sex: Female (This is non-negotiable. Sorry.)

Your occupation:

Where are you from?:

Where do you live now?:

Highest level of education...