For those unaware, Tucker Max was an internet blogger who launched a website in 2002 chronicling the supposedly true stories of his drunken experiences and sexual encounters. Whether or not his stories are actually true I won't contest, mainly because 1) I know his rabid fan-base will swear up and down, "Uh-huh! Yeah! It's SO true! Don't you know!? He does this stuff, like, all the time!" (Ugh.) and 2) whatever persona he's presenting has worked itself into the public consciousness so much that, at this point, they may as well be true. When people mention Tucker Max now, they either sneer or laugh. When he comes to town, people either run to the hills and proclaim him a monster, or flock to worship their little celebri-god. Me, personally? Whatever little Calvert Countian that's left inside reaches for his pitchfork and torch, every time. Or, a picket sign, if that's too violent.
Admittedly, when I discovered Tucker Max for the first time, I was a fan, but for a moment. I was 17 - a freshman in college - and I should have known better, but I didn't. I remember sitting in my room, laughing over his stories and reading everyone I could find, but in the pit of my stomach I knew something wasn't right. Slowly, the initial shock value over what I was reading subsided, and that pit started growing deeper and deeper. Each time I read a story, a little bit of shame joined that growing pit. And, then a little bit more. And, a little bit more still. Most of the time when I feel "ashamed" of something, it's usually a situation where I have little to actually worry about and I tell myself to get over it and to, "just be me." This time, alone in my dorm room in front of my computer screen - with no one in front of which to be ashamed - I did something different. I understood that there was something very wrong with what I was reading. And, while I couldn't place what it was, I decided it was best to distance myself from the material. I closed my browser, left to be social, and I remember thinking this exact thought:
"Don't worry. A little shit-site like that? People will get bored with it. It'll eventually die off."
Guess what? Didn't happen. Tucker Max's popularity has only increased over time: manifesting itself into three books, one of which (I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell) will become a full-feature film. I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell is the representative sample of a genre labeled "fratire" - especially known for its political incorrectness and hypermasculinity. For those unaware, hypermasculinity is one of the primary reasons why homophobia and violence against women is so prevalent in human society. Wikipedia will tell you that fratire is a "reaction" to the feminization of masculinity. The mere fact that its definition implies that its existence is "feminism's" fault should echo the logic of someone telling a victim of spousal abuse that her existence causes her husband to get drunk and throw beer bottles at her to feel more manly.
Ever watch It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia?
Anytime I remember that Tucker Max has written a book, I think of this clip.
Above, you'll find an excerpt from the episode titled "Dennis Reynolds: An Erotic Life." In the course of the episode, Dennis, an egotistical, self-centered, womanizing jackass, decides to write and sell a set of memoirs about his "sexcapades" because, well, he honestly thinks he's that awesome - despite having done nothing of value and contributing nothing to society. Of course, this is part of the premise of It's Always Sunny - it satirizes popular culture by presenting a group of the most heinous, self aggrandizing individuals on the planet Earth whose problems are created entirely by their own egotism. We laugh because we aren't, and don't want to be, these horrible people. The difference between Dennis Reynolds and Tucker Max is simple: Dennis Reynolds is a satirical character created for our amusement and Tucker Max is a real person who (supposedly) really has these adventures. Think hard - that's all there really is.
I understand why the man is appealing, I do. People who paint themselves up - as the rebel, the underdog, the trailblazer, the scoundrel - have an easy appeal. And, why shouldn't they? They do what we want to do, when they want to do it, regardless of society's morays and restrictions. We, as society, eat that shit up and lick the plate. A person comes a long in every generation who breaks down barriers and makes changes - that person always has followers. Sometimes, I think we forget that rebels are cool because they break down walls that need to be broken down. We forget to look at what they're actually doing:
The above article is a solid read with an interesting statistic - read it and tell me what you think below. It seems apparent that Tucker Max is the Dionysus of chauvinism. I'm not a fan of black and white morality, but - as far as I'm concerned - that kinda makes him the antichrist. Just sayin'.