| Title | : | I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell (Tucker Max, #1) |
| Author | : | |
| Rating | : | |
| ISBN | : | 0806527285 |
| ISBN-10 | : | 9780806527284 |
| Language | : | English |
| Format Type | : | Paperback |
| Number of Pages | : | 288 |
| Publication | : | First published January 1, 2006 |
The Book That Inspired The Movie
My name is Tucker Max, and I am an asshole. I get excessively drunk at inappropriate times, disregard social norms, indulge every whim, ignore the consequences of my actions, mock idiots and posers, sleep with more women than is safe or reasonable, and just generally act like a raging dickhead. But, I do contribute to humanity in one very important way: I share my adventures with the world. from the Introduction
Actual reader feedback:
"I find it truly appalling that there are people in the world like you. You are a disgusting, vile, repulsive, repugnant, foul creature. Because of you, I don't believe in God anymore. No just God would allow someone like you to exist."
"I'll stay with God as my lord, but you are my savior. I just finished reading your brilliant stories, and I laughed so hard I almost vomited. I want to bring that kind of joy to people. You're an artist of the highest order and a true humanitarian to boot. I'm in both shock and awe at how much I want to be you."
Now with 16 Pages of Photos and a New Introduction
I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell (Tucker Max, #1) Reviews
-
"My name is Tucker Max and I'm an asshole.." Mate, your name is "Tucker" and you attended law school, so the second half of that sentence seems redundant to me.
The humor here seems to be the continuation of a long line of misogynist, sometimes crypto-racist, mostly Caucasian males: Andrew 'Dice' Clay, Howard Stern, Morton Downey Jr., "Animal House" (while funny, did spotlight frat-boy antics), Frank Zappa's more misogynist moments (think "Dinah-Moe-Hum" and "Jewish Princess") and on and on. In the 90s, Max's type were labelled "mooks"--beer guzzling, baseball cap-wearing, aggressive & obnoxious. He seems to be a curious mutation, though--the upper-class mook..he's still a knuckle-dragger, but he's read a few books, instead of treating them like Kryptonite.
He "disregards social norms"...by drinking alcohol, a legal drug--usually in bars or restaurants, where it's legally acceptable to do so. Get this, he copulates....with WOMEN, no less. This critter is off the f**kin' CHAIN! He's had sex with multiple partners..oh man, where *will* his rebellion stop?! When he drinks too much alcohol, he vomits--that's just insane! He has a crowd of sycophantic gits with names like BrownHole, Mudskipper and LungFish (O.K., I made up the last two - but you get the idea), who follow him around, laugh at his lame jokes and attempt to bask in the glory of "the Tucker".
Seriously, I just didn't find any of it that funny--I know people keep going on about how hilarious this bloke is, but maybe I just don't "get" frat-boy humor. I mean, the type of wit we're dealing with here is stuff like: "I was about to have buttsex, known in the biz as 'anal'..." Oh really? I thought it was called "tromboning"--thanks for clearing that up for me. He makes fun of an Asian girl's speech and actually types "Rike" for "like". He insults a pot-smoker by telling them they "smell like patchouli and bong-water"--my sides are splitting. I can get low-brow as much as the next guy or gal, as long as it delivers the funny--Max doesn't deliver at all, he doesn't even get close. Also, he likes to refer to himself in the third person quite a bit, which does my head in, especially when bad writers do it.
Anyway, I've wasted enough time and effort on reviewing this mediocrity. Since I don't believe in "Hell"--'The Tucker's penance can be to plant trees to replace every scrap of paper used to print his "book", while being fellated by an ill-tempered badger.
1/2 a star and a "W" rating (for Wwwwwwwwwwanker) -
This book makes me embarrassed to be a man. The fact that it has sold 400,000 copies makes embarrassed to be a reader. That it's justified as bathroom reading makes me embarrassed to own a toilet. To folks who happen to like it: hey, to each his own. My opinions are worth both sides of the two-ply they're printed on and nothing more. But as wussy as the words are, the whole premise---I'm an obnoxious alco-fuckaholic, but I know it, so the joke's not on me---lacks two things I'm sorta fond of: compassion and maturity.
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this book is like anthropology for me - i have spent my life avoiding men like this and the women who are their prey just 'cause they annoy me. but i was still curious about why everyone was reading this. so reading this book was my shark week - i could watch the feeding frenzies, while avoiding that water at all costs. i think it was fortuitous that i started reading it the day i went to the leonard cohen concert - it made for some pretty magical comparisons. leonard cohen is a man who has been with some ladies, agreed? and so is tucker max. so here are two quotes - try to match the quote with its author:
"remember when i moved in you the holy dove was moving too and every breath we drew was hallelujah".
"i know the hot one is going to fuck me so i want to hurry up and eat so i can get this pony in its stable".
two different takes on the act of intercourse... leonard cohen is in his seventies and i'd still fuck him first, just for his classiness. and i'm not offended by tucker max, its not some latent feminist rising within me. i recognize that for every one of his "conquests" there is a corresponding stupid stupid drunk girl who is experiencing the joys of social darwinism. my problem is with the actual writing. his anal sex accidents do not make me blush. what makes me blush is the number of times he says "i am so funny" or "my friends say i am hilarious", or even the more generous "my friends are so hilarious". truly the funniest part in this book is in the acknowledgments where he thanks someone for "turn(ing) good writing into great writing".because its baaaad. he just isn't funny. he comes across as someone who needs to be the center of attention so much, and is such a bad drunk, that he equates saying the loudest, rudest thing with the funniest. and i have been that drunk before, and i know how funny it seems at the time, but surely one has better comedic judgment when sober and reviewing the notes...greg says people like tucker max who find david sedaris "too cerebral". i'm beginning to understand...it gets three stars because it amused me enough that i never wanted to throw it. but it isn't great...
come to my blog! -
Dear Satan,
I humbly request that you serve Tucker Max plenty of beer once he joins you in Hell. However, please first insert a glass rod into his urethra and then break it in several places.
Very best,
Mark -
Find all of my reviews at:
http://52bookminimum.blogspot.com/
Hey, do you guys know about the website PicMonkey? I always use it to crop/auto adjust my photos, but I had no idea it offered up this awesome feature . . .
Ha!!! I’m Kathy Bates in American Horror Story Freakshow !
(In case you were wondering, this review is brought to you by . . . BEEEEEEEEER.)
Mitchell got to pick our latest buddy read, but I can really only fault myself since I was the one who purchased I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell and placed it on a shelf within his line of sight. I was not familiar with Tucker Max beyond the fact that I was aware people hate him, and the only reasons I bought the book were (1) the title and (2) it cost a quarter.
Turns out this is a book about the sexcapades of a 20-something year old law student. If that isn’t a precursor to you knowing the narrator is going to be a huge douchecanoe, I don’t know what is. Tucker Max spends his nights saying things like this . . .
Knowing the reaction will be something like this . . .
My personal stance is: If I choose to read something that I KNOW is intended to be offensive, the one thing I don’t allow myself to do is complain about being offended. What I am allowed to complain about is the fact that this is a book filled with one-liners drowning in hundreds of pages of unfunny, bad writing. I expected drunken frat boy stories and chauvinistic comments – kind of a Man Show in book format, if you will . . .
. . . and I thought it would be a laugh a minute, not a laugh every 37 pages.
Here are some examples of things I found funny . . .
With regard to Vegas:
“We had an awesome roll the night before, but this day luck was not with us, and I ended up losing like $500. Whatever, I had at least 12 drinks, so I clearly came out on top. Stupid Vegas, they don’t know anything.”
That line made me giggle. Unfortunately, it was the only giggle to be had in a SEVENTEEN page story.
With regard to some girls trying to talk them out of going to a strip club:
Girl: “Don’t go to a strip club. You know those girls don’t care about you.”
Tucker’s Friend: “That’s not true. They sit on my lap and tell me they love me.”
It took 5 pages of story to get to that one chuckle-extracting exchange.
Then there was a story of the girl who one-upped Tucker Max. The girl made the mistake of thinking Mr. Max was more than a roll in the hay and then made a scene in a bar where Tucker promptly belittled her in front of everyone. She turned the tables, however, by faking a positive chlamydia test result, forcing Tucker to go get tested. Said test involved sticking a giant metal Q-tip up his peehole. Hilarity ensued, but sadly it once again took 5 pages of crap to build up to the ending.
The segment generically titled “Sex Stories” should have been a source of massive guffawing, but instead offered up this one sexist (but funny) moment:
Girl: “What is your favorite sexual technique?”
Tucker: “Well, I’m not sure. Probably where I pretend like she isn’t there, get off as fast as possible, she does my laundry, cleans, and then leaves.”
I know I shouldn’t laugh at that, but I did. Sadly, it was once again in the middle of 12 pages of drivel.
And last but not least, “Tucker Goes 3-Minute Dating: Hilarity Ensues.” It’s in the title, so it has to be hilarious, right????? Yeah, notsamuch. His 3-minute exchanges offered up one gem:
Girl: "So, have you ever done this before?”
Tucker: “No, never. I was supposed to do it last month, but my damn herpes flared up, so I waited until they went away. That Valtrex isn’t as good as advertised. I can’t kickbox or kayak.”
Before I end, let’s touch on the subject of just how many chicks Tucker Max has supposedly banged. The Rule of Three states if an average dude claims to have had sex with numbers in “the low 100s” you should divide that by three, resulting in a man who has actually had sex with around 30 women. Since Tucker Max is a guy who isn’t particularly attractive, “dresses up” for going out by wearing white Hanes undershirts, and gives zero shits about ever NOT partying ‘til he pukes, I assume his reality should probably be divided by three yet again (if for nothing but the simple fact that projectile vomiting (or diarrhea, as the case may be)/passing out/uncooperative whiskey dick = no hook-up).
If you get strong-armed into reading this book like I did, I encourage you to skim over everything but the diarrhea segments. I know it’s sooooooo sophomoric and lowbrow, but Jeebus I love a good public pooping shame story!
To be honest, I’m more than a little bummed that I didn’t like this book. I tend to like everything that everyone else hates. I think I’m going to reward myself with a little present . . .
Oh, and in case you are wondering – Mitchell sold his soul to the devil a long time ago in order to guaranty there would, in fact, be beer in Hell. We’ll save you guys some good seats : )
-
This book, uh, shouldn't be called a book. I Hope The Serve Beer In Hell is essentially a book-length Maxim article/boasting session at the bar. Now, I don't have a significant problem with either Maxim articles or drunks at the bar, as they can sometimes be funny, but in large doses on the page the effect wears thin. Imagery as hackneyed as "She look like she got hit in the face with a frying pan" may work after eight beers at 2AM on Sunday morning, but I wasn't reading the book then. So there were some laugh-out loud parts, but again, I don't know that I can call this a book anymore than the Costco catalog or the Wisconsin Dells tourist guide is a book. If you paid full-price for this you got ripped off. My friend Dan lent me his copy, and he bought it for a buck at a thrift store.
Warning: If you're even slightly squeamish about sexist language and the portrayal of some women as stupid and desperate, run away. Run away! -
This book is disgusting! It is literally the worst book I've ever read. And yet I have never, ever, ever laughed so hard and so loud at the written word. This book appalled me but I couldn't. stop. reading! Tucker Max has some kind of writing style, it's almost Gonzo. But I would never tell him that. And if you did he wouldn't get the reference at all. It's like sitting next to some drunk, ex reality-show star in an Ed Hardy t-shirt as he recounts his shallow, pathetic existence. And for that I give it 3 stars, it's almost an anthropological study of douchebaggery. (Is that a word?) AND it is one terrible entertaining ride! fistpump!
-
A big WOW for shameless debauchery from a raging egomaniac. It’s like bungee-jumping into the middle of the mosh pit at a fraternity grain party. I’m one of those girls who liked parts of the Tucker book. Well, actually this is sort of a mixed review. The first story I read was the Tucker tries b*tt sex one. I nearly peed myself it was so funny. For shock value and out of control laughs, you could stop after that story and be satisfied. (It turns out I should have stopped).
The next story I read was pretty funny. The next brought a few chuckles, and by the fourth I was bored. Vomit and poopy pants is only outrageous once; not every story. It seems pretty obvious that he decided early on to "never let the truth get in the way of a good story."
At that point I switched gears and realized the true entertainment value; laughing at Tucker's misplaced ego, lame debacles and feeble attempts at writing. And since they're all embellished versions of the same story, you get to guess the timing and outcome of the events and feel proud of your highly tuned prophetic skills. This gem of a discovery had me howling anew.
Honestly, some of these stories my 17 yr. old brother would consider too pathetic to repeat. Tucker et al flake out, embarrass themselves, explode body fluids, and the outcome is lame. You would think they would be told in a self-deprecating manner.
By contrast, Tucker brags about them like conquests from a billionaire gladiator. I've never known someone so egotistical they don't even realize it when they were made to look the fool.
I've met some successful adrenaline junkies in my short life whose stories ARE mind-blowing; I've been involved in some of their debacles and am astonished at what they get away with. Tucker's stories for the most part would make an embarrassing footnote of losers seen fumbling around in the background.
Don’t get me wrong, if you're a freshman and led a sheltered life...if you like comedy and can overcome the short-bus, Darwin candidate frat-i-tude, some of these stories will have you rolling.
If you've matured beyond Spring Break and prefer well-written tales, there's better options for drunken philandering memoirs. Hunter Thompson paved the way with Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Also make sure you get Brett Tate's hilarious photo-documentary about insane wealthy gangsters living the dream;
High Heels and Dirty Deals - Globetrotting Tales of Debauchery from a Binge-drinking Nymphomaniac -
'tis the season...
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R: BOOK 5
my carefully considered thoughts on Tucker Max...
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Lending the fifteen minutes it took me to finish the first three chapters of this book is perhaps my biggest regret in life. I received it as a gift from a co-worker who scanned the back cover and thought it might make for an amusing read on the train ride into work. The most amusing thing about the book, however, was that a supposed Ivy League graduate thought it a wise literary maneuver to forego employing an editor.
The material lacks substance, is repetitive, and the quality of the writing itself, which in some cases of content-dubious books serves as a
saving grace, is downright laughable. The author lacks even the most basic grasp on elementary English grammar; he changes tense constantly within the same story, and at times leaves out entire words begging the reader to ask himself "am I reading this right?" as he idles over the same phrase for a good half minute trying to make sense of what's there.
I doubt that a better writer could have made use of such an absurd premise, the same drunken story told X number of ways, but in the hands of Tucker Max it's altogether a lost cause. -
“Highly entertaining and thoroughly reprehensible.” – The New York Times
I’m not sure I can put it much better than that, mister NYT reviewer, but I’ll give it a shot. I can’t tell you how many times I saw this book in the bookstore or at the newsstand and almost bought it. But some nagging feminist part of me just wouldn’t let me give this guy my money. So when my friend handed me his copy and said, “Here, this is good train reading,” it was a no brainer. I knew I was in for a fun ride home.
You may not like Tucker Max. You may want to choke Tucker Max until he bleeds from the eyes. You may think he’s a vulgar, repulsive, egomaniacal, solipsistic, misogynistic douchebag. And you’re right; he is. But you have to admit, he's pretty funny. You can argue with me if you want. You can cite all of the ways he mistreats women and tell me that he has set the women’s movement back to the 19th century and blah de blah de blah; I don’t care.
All I can say is I was riding on a quiet train back to Philadelphia, sitting next to a nice quiet man who was quietly reading a book and highlighting passages. I am reading THIS and trying, desperately trying to stifle my laughter. But my laughter would have no parts of being stifled this day, my friends. I felt the eyes on me. They were of the “this chick is fucking crazy” variety. But yet I read on. And I laughed and I laughed and the train ride went by in a blink.
My favorite “character” was SlingBlade. I think that I would get along with this guy swimmingly. My favorite bit:
Girl: “I’m hoping to get my masters in psych after I finish my BA”
SlingBlade “It takes someone very smart to get a psych degree.”
Girl “I’m smart.”
SlingBlade “The smartest thing to ever come out of your mouth is a penis”
Girl “I’m NOT STUPID”
SlingBlade “IT STOPS TALKING TO ITS INTELLECTUAL SUPERIOR OR IT GETS THE HOSE!”
Warms my cynical, sarcastic little heart…
To all of the women out there who find themselves repeatedly attracted to this type of guy; the smooth guy with all the right lines who manages to get you into bed before you’ve even had an actual conversation... well, you’re probably an idiot and deserve what’s coming to you. But in case you are just misguided, let me at least tell you to read this book, and know thy enemy!
Tucker Max himself has some choice advice for you:
“Ladies, let me give you some advice. You can throw all your stupid fucking chick-lit, self-help, why-doesn’t-he-love-me books out, because this is all you need to know: Men will treat you the way you let them. There is no such thing as “deserving” respect; you get what you demand from people… if you demand respect, he will either respect you, or he won’t associate with you. It really is that simple.”
Bottom line: This book is funny. And in the end, that's all that really mattered to me. -
As a chick I am ashamed to say I really enjoyed this book because he just takes advantage of women in such a terrible way but its also kinda hard to feel bad for the women because....well I don't really know any woman that would let things go as far as some of these woman do!!! Its a moronic walk through a jerk womanizer's life with his friends.
-
I get Tucker Max. I do. My proclaiming to everyone on his website, on the dust jacket of his book that he is an asshole, he doesn't have to take accountability for anything. Because, hey, I told you I was an asshole, right? I get it. And I've used that tactic before. That doesn't make me like the book any better, though.
Admittedly, I loved the title and I thought I was buying a smart, witty, off-color book written by a guy whose irreverant rants on life would be hilarious. Not so much. If you've ever been to a frat party and heard some drunk guy talking about his sordid, unbelievable conquests, you've already heard 75% of this book.
While "I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell" was good for a few cheap laughs, I ultimately finished the book and felt sad that someone going on 30 years old is still prattling on about the stupid things he does when he's drunk. This book validates the feeling I've had for awhile now that truly anyone can get a book deal. -
A truly inspiring operating manual for achieving the most fulfillment in life. It ranks up there with the works of Kahlil Gibran and Richard Bach. This should be required reading in high school and for citizenship tests for new immigrants. It is the Bible and spiritual tome for the American Way, offering timeless insights into the human condition.
-
Tucker Max is an inexplicable success story. He wrote emails to friends about his drunken, debaucherous sexual exploits. This turned into a blog. This became a book. This became a New York Times bestselling book. Now there is a movie.
Though an impressive exercise in excess and gall, Max’s tales of drinking and sex are mostly unremarkable. Most youths half-conscious for high school and college will be able to meet Tucker half-way with his mildly shocking anecdotes of modern bacchanalian adventures. So let this be a lesson to you kids: be a cruel, disrespectful, self-absorbed, misogynistic drunk, and America will reward you.
I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell, somewhere between a drunk Paper Chase and The Game on meth, is certainly appealing because it is authentic. You believe everything. Nothing is embellished. Nothing over-written. There is something very refreshing about its straightforward, casual forthcomingness.
But of course it’s totally depraved and reprehensible. The puritan in us wants to be appalled. The Top 40-listening, Simon Cowell wanna-being, Paris Hilton sex tape-watching fool in us wants to be entertained even more.
Though it pains me to say it, there’s a little bit of Hunter S. Thompson in Tucker Max. While I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell can’t hold a match to the rocket-fueled blowtorch that is HST’s intellect, craft, and cultural relevance, Max does carry around a tape recorder and write about his heroic consumption, just like the good Doc, however elementary and inferior the writing is. Sample passage (from page 69 no less):
“It got to the point where I was fucking with so much force her booty was clapping like Madison Square Garden, the bed was chipping the paint off the wall, my hips were bruising as they slammed against her ass bones and I was sweating like a migrant worker in a strawberry field, but it still wasn’t enough.”
This book and its success is frustrating and bothersome on several levels. Why do the douche bags always get away with it?
Let’s talk about this douche bag thing. Having read his book, I think Tucker Max is a douche bag. My secret sources working on the inside of the movie production of I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell confirm this opinion. Though in his thirties, he’s the kind of guy who wears athletic shorts with dress shirts. Tucker Max angers me like drug dealers who don’t get caught anger me. But Tucker Max clearly has his own ideas of what a douche bag is and spends ample time examining so in the book. He refers to “legions of douche bags and tools that now seem to infect every aspect of Vegas,” and “an endless expanse of bushy-haired frat boy fuckwits in striped shirts and red pants.”
But Tucker Max drinks Grey Goose and Red Bull. His dog is named Maxie. He drinks booze from a CamelBak. Add this to the way he treats people and isolates himself in an insecure, cocky, self-absorbed and self-important bubble protected by mildly creative insults and vain ignorance, and you have a bona fide douche bag. You simply don’t garner respect or authority on any level by attacking metrosexuals for dropping Foucault and Sartre when you refer to Toulouse-Lautrec and Pheidippides and say things like, “That’s like Chamberlain telling Hitler he can have the Sudetenland.” I know, I know. Tucker Max does not care about garnering respect nor authority. Add that to the list of why he is the embodiment of the douche bags he claims to despise so much.
I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell is at best an interesting anthropological contemplation of the decadence of modern white male privilege and at worst as bad as having to read someone’s diary or listen to them recall their dreams. How far American Comedy has come since Mark Twain. Max’s humor consists of glib observations and opinions and the occasionally chuckle-worthy rhetorical device. “Whatever buddy, you’re wearing a Detroit Red Wings jersey to a strip club, you obviously suck.” “When I am mid-coitus, a girl could extract a promise from me to trade my first-born for a Twix bar.”
If you think this kind of thing is funny, read this book. You won’t even be able to polish off a six-pack before you’re done and ready to move on to funnier, heartier fare. Like whiskey.
But Bravo to Tucker Max for creating an empire from something so debased and otherwise normal. -
A 3.6 overall rating? Are you kidding? Tucker is abhorrent and while I don't mind reading about abhorrence, it would be excusable if this book were even slightly well-written. Which it's not. The funniest parts of the book are the ones in which Max claims to be a writer, working to perfect his craft. That, my friends, is the joke. Don't be had. Just put it back on the store shelves and move along.
-
Ok, today I’m moving this to my crappy book crappier movie shelve! I went to see this piece of shit yesterday, and when I got there there was this cool ass sign that somebody attached to the poster outside the theater… and I just had to take a picture of me next to it… I wish I had a copy of Sex And Character: An Investigation Of Fundamental Principles to hold next to it… but I didn’t… still this is a crappy book with a guy who thinks he is funny but honestly the only reason why you laugh at this guy is cuz he is so fucking pathetic and if you like me and love to watch people like this making fool out of themselves this book/movie are for you!!!
-
Let me preface this review with the following:
(1) I have only read the first 41 pages of this book (and intend to read no further);
(2) I purchased this book without performing any preliminary research (the title just seemed funny);
(3) I had a seriously bad date this weekend.
OK, here I go: Honestly, Tucker Max should be commended for his profound ability to memorialize life as it is perceived by a beer-drinking, ass-getting, womanizing, I'm-entitled-to-be-a-dick-so-deal-with-it frat boy. I now feel that much more educated after having embarked on my 41-page journey, learning that while "a .35 BAC kills most people", a .20 BAC is in fact a respectable goal and worthy of praise. Thank you, Max, for the raw, funny opportunity to sneak a glimpse into the thoughts of a true asshole, and I hope your future encounters with individuals such as "Elephant Legs", "Miss Chokesondick" (in her early stages), and ketchup-stained rednecks are frequent. -
Whoa, boy. There was a guy in college we called “Nast” and now I feel bad… Tucker Max is much more deserving of the title than that poor guy!
This book definitely had some downright hysterical parts but by the end it was a little “much” for me. I just got tired of his schtick after awhile. Some of the tales weren’t even that crazy. The dog vomit one? I’ve known like 10 people with virtually the same story. There were times where I thought, I know much better stuff than that! Don’t know what that says about the company I keep…
Plus, on some level I found it all disturbing. Not HIS actions because he seemed (or at least claimed to be) pretty forthright about his intentions. It is just scary to me how many insecure women there are in this world, willing to do him while he’s insulting them/their friends/etc. For example: “I’ll have to f*** you from behind so I don’t have to look at your face.” And that was fine with this chick! As someone with daughters, I found the women’s behavior (and ridiculous insecurities) in this book alarming. I can only hope that while he’s had sex with 100-150 people, he’s tried with 1,000+ and we’re not getting to see the normal people who rejected him. I liked the speech therapist in the hospital. “I wouldn’t give you my zip code.” (And how does he get SO much action? He’s not that good looking.)
My other beef is that many of Tucker Max’s friends were FAR funnier than Tucker Max. I love, love, loved the hapless SlingBlade, the man with zero social skills and was sad to not find him anywhere in the second half of the book. Hot chick in Vegas: Hey, wanna go back with me to my hot tub? Him: Helllooooo staph infection! The parts where I laughed out loud were all about SlingBlade. He reminds me of my husband in some weird way. That’s probably bad to admit.
All in all, though, an amusing a very quick read. -
I must admit that it was a funny book at least for 30 to 40 pages. Then all that random sex, projectile vomiting, and scatology just got boring.
I guess I'm supposed to say what the author and every reviewer of this book has already said: Tucker Max is an asshole, What he isn't is even more obvious. He is not a writer. There are writers who are capable of exploring their assholeness. Hunter S. Thompson and Charles Bukowski immediately comes to mind. Yet these writers wrote about much more. They placed their personality in tune with their environment. They told us about more than themselves. Tucker Max only writes about himself. The people around him are just objects to glorify his own excesses. Yes he can be funny. Some are the stories are disgustingly hilarious and I laughed in spite of myself. I laugh at fart jokes too and this book is no more than one long fart joke.
There is one exception to this. Tucker's friend Slingblade makes the book come alive at times. He is as obnoxious as Tucker but there is a true vulnerability to him that makes him three-dimensional. He could have been as memorable as Dean Moriarty or Dr. Gonzo in the hands of a real writer. But as I said, no writers at home. just an immature blogger. Sorry Slingblade. -
I'm not sure how to rate this book because I found it horribly offensive and downright archaic in the way in views women or for that matter how people treat each other in general. However, that is not to say that several of the stories had me laughing fairly hard (mostly at the author's expense). The author is a narcissist and I mean that literally in every sense of the word. Serously, remember Narcissus? The author actually has a story of a drunken night where he meets a girl he could see himself falling in love with only to find out later from his friends that he was so drunk he was talking to a mirror (hmmm, closet homosexual perhaps?). I also can't help but pity the author, while his stories are frat boy debauchery and substance abuse that are so regailed in today's society that this book actually made the New York Times Bestseller list (I did not know about the subject matter, someone, a male, told me to read it) it clearly stems from deep seated issues that are only getting worse as he ages.
Also, as another reviewer stated, I would save your money because almost the entire book is on the author's website. -
Look, this guy obviously has narcissistic personality disorder. He needs help. (Though being a narcissist, he would never admit or think this.) He calls himself an asshole but it goes deeper than that.
This book is supposed to be funny, but it's just kind've sad. You meet one entitled, spoiled frat boy you've met them all.
The only reason I read this is that my friend takes forever to get ready, and this is one of the only books he had. I've been picking through it for a few months while he was in the shower or whatever.
As an aside, the guy that gave it to him for a gift is one of the biggest jerks I've ever met. He's kind've entertaining at a party but everyone secretly hates him. -
I picked this book up on a buy 2 get, 1 free table at Borders because I thought the title was interesting and I had already picked out my 2 so I was looking for my "1 free" book. I have never abandoned a book in the middle, but I admit this one was difficult to get through. At first it was like watching a car accident that you just couldn't look away from, but eventually the stories of Tucker and his friends' debauchery is just too much. Even in non-fiction, you want someone to learn something. This was like reading about a guy banging his head against a wall and hoping the wall bitch slaps him in return.
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What can I say about Tucker Max? No redeeming qualities as a human being. This book is filled with drunken tales of sex gone horribly wrong and the horrible treatment of women. The emotional damage he’s caused countless women is unforgiveable. Most educated people will HATE it, I can’t imagine a single person I’m hooked up with on this site enjoying it. You have to be able to separate yourself from humanity and all things that are good to enjoy this book. BUT...
What else can I say about Tucker Max? He’s hilarious. Sadly this is the quickest I’ve ever gotten through a book and I looked forward to each chapter like a little girl on Christmas morning. Tucker Max is horrible and mean, but I just couldn’t resist first time ass love mixed with too much lube and explosive diarrhea. It was sickly entertaining and an interesting insight into a personality completely opposite of mine. If this won’t make you think twice about a one-night stand, nothing will. Even if you need to feel like a little girl on Christmas morning, do NOT read this, I don’t want to be forever shunned by the group. -
Easily the worst person ever in existence. I can't decide if I'd be happier if one of his "conquests" returned to castrate him or if he contracted a cocktail of STIs that would result in the shriveling and subsequent loss of his man parts. Either way he'd be eliminated from the gene pool and humanity could dodge that bullet.
Also, if there were a way to rate this book in negative quantities of stars, it would have the maximum. -
A confession: We’ve had all the takes on this one. It’s been covered. Lines drawn, ammunition stacked and fired. Tucker Max has suffered no divine retribution, more a comfortable spluttering out, cursed with a house, wife and four kids.
But one must glimpse into the past to see what reflects back at us. And, so, how does the hottest material of the mid 00s stack up today?
Getting your leg over (and then immediately blacking out)
I Hope they Serve Beer in Hell was a long-awaited glimpse into the secret world of 27-year-old men who pursue 19 year old women. You don’t need to find the ‘real’ Tucker Max, I Hope they Serve Beer in Hell is fratire’s Confessions. For Tucker, sex is worth about as much effort as picking one’s nose:
I pumped real hard for ten seconds and then collapsed.
As St Augustine might say: ‘O Lord, make me at least passable at sex, but not yet!’
You might conclude from the stories in I Hope they Serve Beer in Hell that a life spent pursuing women that you don’t respect before, during, or after sex might not be that fulfilling. And I think Tucker would agree with you.
I order two more shots.
Tucker “I need some more shots”.
Not to be outdone by a small girl, I did shots with half the bar until I was as drunk as, well, Tucker Max.
I am on my eighth beer of the morning, and am already starting to look for places I can vomit.
The genius of this book is that by putting so many of his internet posts in a single book, you can really imbibe the thrill of high school level writing from a Duke Law graduate. Drinking, public defecation, drinking, defecating in a public lobby, going to a frat party in your late twenties, drinking, incredibly unsatisfying sex, pissing yourself in bed and blaming your “partner”. It’s a real roller coaster, running from drunk and angry to drunk and horny.
On the one hand, Tucker lacks a scintilla of empathy for anyone outside of his friend group. On the other hand, he has barely a scintilla of empathy for anyone inside of it. There’s plenty of hostile commentary of how often Tucker is unnecessarily awful to others in his own retellings in I Hope they Serve Beer in Hell. And look, that sucks and I do not condone it, but I Hope they Serve Beer in Hell offer the comfort that maybe that weird guy with a receding hairline who bullied you at your high school graduation party will, one day,
blow a lucrative ghost-writing career over his ego .
But it’s funny, right?
There is this crazy idea that not all humour is timeless. What was brave and controversial 15 to 20 years ago might seem passé, or even déclassé, today.
Her hot face and great tits are paired with ghetto booty and elephant legs.
After enduring a few cans of this ghetto swill.
It tasted like ghetto romance.
I can’t tell you whether ghetto is a funny adjective. I can’t even tell you what it means in I Hope they Serve Beer in Hell, other than something racial. But I can tell you that Tucker’s problem isn’t that that the world has gone woke, it is that its painfully dated in style. There’s no craft with Tucker’s work. He makes a derogatory statement, like:
We’ve all accidentally fucked a fat girl.
…and leaves you to assume the painfully simplistic punch line. If the words ghetto, fat or retard are good enough to evince a chuckle from you, I won’t call the woke mob on you. But if the height of wit in this book is an incredibly intoxicated guy yelling slurs, ask yourself if you’re really that hard to satisfy.
I am not saying Tucker is never funny:
Her “I definitely believe in fate.”
Me “Do you believe that fate brought us together?”
Her “Oh yeah.”
Me “Fate must hate you.”
…which even if unoriginal, is well set up and delivered (at least in the book). However, the quality of his work mostly falls far below this, notwithstanding what the exclamation marks and capitalisations in the recollections of his conversations would suggest.
Through a glass, darkly
Obviously, I have to one star this compilation of internet shitposts, some of which, if true, would be crimes, and not the fun ones. But the main thing I see reflected back at me is a lack of effort, a dissociation from any meaningful (or sober) engagement. Karma didn’t really come for Tucker, but maybe that’s because all he had back then was a lot of drinks and a disappointing sex life. -
Tucker Max is a gigantic douchebag, yet he's strangely un-self-aware for a guy who makes his living writing outrageous
liestrue stories of his drunken debauchery. Throughout his book of stories, Max talks about himself like he is the undisputed coolest guy in the world, and continually disparages other men in the book as tools and douchebags, unaware that he is them. Funny how that works.
Max's book is outrageous (as in almost completely untrue), misogynistic, crude, and offensive, but I'm not going to lie--I laughed out loud a lot. That doesn't mean Max is a good writer--he's not. And it doesn't mean he is a paragon of truth--he's most definitely not that. But his stories tended to be quite funny, even if they are of the sort that you'd feel better if the guy telling the story wasn't the guy that all of this purported wackiness happened to--if you have to brag about these types of conquests and hilarity, odds are it wasn't nearly as funny as you recall, or it's an outright lie. Max is constantly recalling "hilarious" things he said (which is funny, since he also spends a good portion of the book discussing how he ended up black out drunk on most of the occasions he is recalling, yet can recite dialogue verbatim?), which wears thin after awhile. The book definitely loses momentum towards the end for a number of reasons, partly due to stories like the Midland, Tx story, which is utterly pointless and devoid of humor, and clearly included just to get the book to a publishable length, and partly because you can only read so many "outrageously true" stories of Tucker Max's drunken sexual exploits.
I'm not a crusader for truth and justice in creative non-fiction. I have no horse in the race to string up James Frey. I understand that much of this type of writing is going to be at least partially embellished. However, Tucker Max pushes it to the limits of believability, and exacerbates the incredulousness of the stories by maintaining on numerous occasions that his stories are 100% true and that he is a lot of things, but most definitely not a liar. I call bullshit.
All that said, it's a very quick, light read, and some of the stories are very, very, funny in a Family Guy 'I-can't-believe-I'm-laughing-about-something-so-horrible' sort of way. You'll laugh, but, like many of Tucker Max's supposed conquests, you might not respect yourself in the morning. -
You know that guy, the one who thinks he’s the shit? You know who I’m talking about. You always see him at a party or something talking to multiple girls. The one who will have a girlfriend yet bag another girl and start making plans with another. Well, guys like that piss me off. They give us good guys a name. But as I helped reading this novel of short stories, I couldn’t help but to laugh at the scenarios this guy gets himself into. And his stupidity.
Tucker Max is, I guess it’s safe to say, a guy who is afraid of commitment. Here he is making a complete ass out of himself and not having a care in the world. It’s as if he can be the only douche bag. And for some reason, people love it. I can’t help but admit that I find it amusing.
Here’s this guy, asking his friend to hide in the closet and film him and a girl having sex. It turned out so ridiculously wrong and hilarious to the point that his house smelt like lube, vomit and crap for several weeks. He’s the guy that, after getting a blowjob, notices he left a skid mark on the perfect white couch of the girl and just flips the cushion over. Hoping that she never realizes. These are only the beginning of the other stories in this.
It makes me think how his life is today, after he published the book and all of these girls read it. How they must feel to be humiliated and used by this complete dumbass. I’m all for female power. No they shouldn’t have more power, but you know, equality and stuff. This guy just doesn’t give a shit and he’s making us good guys love it.
In the end, this book is about a guy who we hate, love and want to be in the end. The novel of a guy where girls used to love him but now despise him. And I’m afraid that after this got published, he hasn’t gotten any action. After all, guys have their needs. Some, different than others. But their still needs.
