The story below was copied from a
Facebook.com account. A link to this story in the comments to an older post awhile ago.
Tucker Max's face, meet Megan ******'s hand
Megan was discussing ball shaving with a nice man at a tailgate. Good start to this story;) NE ways, Tucker Max was also at the tailgate and started talking shit to Megan (he obviously thought she was a hot girl who would sleep w/ him if acted like an asshole, and he was showing off in front of his buddies). Megan hit him on the arm, and he said that meant Megan wanted to fuck him because if she hit him in the face, then he'd know she was mad. She then dissed his elastic waistband (yes, he was wearing elastic waistband shorts, what is he, 12?), and he said "its so stupid bitch whores like you can suck my dick without any confusion." So she slapped him in the face!!!
Tucker threw his drink at her, Candice threw her drink at Tucker with lightning fast reflexes, then he proceeded to grab Megan by her hair and hit her in the face with his pathetically small hands. With a bruised face, and a bruised ego, he took his shriveled penis back to his buddies.
In Tucker Max's own words, "My name is Tucker Max, and I am an asshole." Oh, and he hits girls.
15,918 comments:
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Gigi looked like she was hitting a punching bag. Her feet were braced against the blood orange colored wall for traction. I began to laugh.
Tucker pulled out and came on Hot Tits’ face, which sent her over the edge. She literally exploded with orgasm, her hips two feet off the bed. I rolled over and landed on a pillow, laughing hysterically. I held up one of my hands, squeezed it into an elongated fist and imagined it inside me. It just didn’t seem possible. Hot Tits was not of this world. She was a sorceress of some sort, the sorceress of expandable vaginas. I was in awe of her powers, and very jealous of her explosive orgasm. Out the window went my egalitarian group sex theory.
Gigi leaned over Hot Tits, who was moaning inaudibly in post-coital bliss. She kissed and licked her lips, her hand still inside the girl, stuck in there for all we knew. I was halfway to the bathroom to shower when she dislodged the hand. It was then I heard, “OH MY GOD.”
Back in the room, Tucker was doubled over with laughter. Gigi sat on the bed above Hot Tits looking like a battlefield medic. Her hand was covered in blood past her wrist.
Apparently Hot Tits was not an all-powerful vaginal sorceress. She just had a very high tolerance for pain. Still pretty amazing, though.
failure
Picture this.
Housing complex. The units are basically small cottages, made for two room-mates, with a common area and attached kitchen, a small storage closet in the common area containing water pipes leading to Suite A's bathroom. The two private areas of the suite contained a private bedroom, a sliding glass patio door, and a private bathroom. Sounds idyllic.
My roomie, Jed, liked to throw parties. He liked tarantulas, too, and kept six.
For the sake of saving my effort in recounting this story, here is a basic rundown of the chaos:
This run-through of incidents is going to be kind of terse, because I'm working off of a check list I made a while ago.
During our stay together, my roomie:
He brought his motorcycle into our common room because he was "afraid it would be stolen." This was fine, but then he started it and let it idle for 15 minutes without opening any windows, causing all of our stuff to smell like motor exhaust.
After his girlfriend left him, he went berserk in his private bathroom with a sledgehammer or a geologist's hammer and smashed all of his bathroom fixtures. I'm not sure of this but I believe that just before she left him she fucked some guy with pubic lice in my bed during a party.
His toilet was inoperative at this point, so he used mine for a time, until I refused him access. Later I would find out that he shat in garbage bags and kept them in the common room closet for weeks. More on this later.
He set fire to our carpet with alcohol during a party. He pissed in the fridge. He shat in the fridge. He shat in the crisper drawer. He shat on the oven top, and instead of cleaning it up, turned on the burner, reasoning that carbon is easier to clean than feces.
He left a dead cat he found somewhere in our oven for a week and forgot about it. I discovered it later.
failrue
He owned 6 tarantulas, and would let one run around free-range. He assured me he had "tamed it." I assured him he was a stupid fuckhead.
He never showered.
He sold drugs from his room. He smoked pot with his friends in the common area. He spilled bong water on two of my text books. He and his friends did cocaine off of the television set in the common area.
He had a party to which he invited too many people, and they spilled into my room. Strangers had sex in my room at that party. In my bed. One of them had pubic lice. Someone took a dump in my closet. Someone left a used condom in my slipper. I discovered all of these things after it was too late.
Morning after said party, my mother knocked on the front door, and a stranger from that party answered and immediately threw up on her legs.
Crackheads would regularly come by our apartment at all hours of the night trying to buy drugs because of his illicit activities. Whenever I answered the door and indicated that there was no crack to be had, they would sometimes get, desperate, belligerent and violent, and refuse to leave.
He put food products containing milk, meat and cheese on the heating unit and turned it on for three hours to see what would happen. I could've told him what would happen if he asked me.
He got angry at some video game he and his friends were playing in the common area, so he busted into my room while I was sleeping, and punched me in the face and stomach.
A few days later he put a tarantula in my bed sheets while I was sleeping. Thankfully I wasn't bitten, but I was freaked out and still sometimes jump out of bed in the middle of the night for no reason and attack my sheets.
He shat in a lot of our fixtures. He would put his shit in baggies and leave them in strange places. I was thankful for when he used a baggie. A few words of advice for potential room-mates: A light fixture is not a toilet. A heating vent is not a toilet. The sink is not a toilet. The oven is not a toilet. That is all. The feces he left around falls into three categories:
Did this story take place before or after Bunny became overweight? Because if it happened afterward it doesn't count because fat people don't count.
Tucker's words, not mine.
A) Experiments he conducted. The stove top feces thing was an experiment he conducted after his toilet was broken, and I refused him access to mine, and his neighbors got sick of letting him use theirs. I think he was trying to find some new way of getting rid of his shit. Either that or he thought it would be funny to make me clean shit off of his stove top and then got curious about what would happen if he turned on the burner. He really liked playing with heating elements and fire. It was fucking stupid. The dead cat in the oven, I think, falls into this category as well.
B) Feces in the refrigerator, shit in the closet, vomit on the TV, etc. I lump this into the "OOPS I SHAT ON YOUR CARPET DURING A PARTY" category.
C) Shit inside baggies in various places: After I stopped letting him use my bathroom he got angry and I think this started off as his way of "proving" to me that I should let him use my bathroom. After a while of this I think it started to take on a life of his own, and he started stashing his feces due to some mental illness. This is purely speculative
I was pissed at this point. He refused to clean or take care of all of the messes listed above, so I ended up cleaning them, but keeping an hourly log and catalogue of what work I did and worked out a bill, which I sent to him. I was tired of cleaning feces out of our refrigerator, finding turds in our crisper drawer, shit on the stovetop, vomit on the carpet, vomit in our potted plants, vomit on the grille of our television set, urine on the carpet, urine on the kitchen floor seeping behind the refrigerator, dead animals in our oven and freezer units, and bags of feces hidden in our light fixtures.
Have you ever had to move your refrigerator out of its little nook to get behind it to clean urine mixed with whatever the fuck lurks behind a refrigerator in the first place?
After sending him the cleaning bill and getting a refusal of payment, I took some of his stuff, dumped it in a storage unit across town, and held it until he paid me back. He stole some of my stuff in retaliation, but I called the cops and repossessed my belongings. He was unable to articulate to the cops that I had some of his shit in this exchange, so I ended up basically getting my shit back while he had to be put in their car to cool off.
Upon retrospect, I think maybe he became mentally ill after losing his girlfriend, and not being able to part with his feces was part of his illness. This is purely speculative.
He wasn't poor. He was from a wealthy family. They don't come into the picture, though.
I kind of messed up the timeline for this stuff, so here's a quick run through before I continue the story.
TIME A: Tons of parties, vomit being cleaned up by me, tarantula, punching, etc. I start withholding rent at this point, and am subtracting $200 a month from the rent for cleaning costs.
TIME B: His girlfriend leaves him. His friends stop hanging out with him. He smashes his bathroom. He uses mine for a time, is denied access, uses neighbor's for a time, is denied access, and is angry at me for refusing him access to my bathroom. I fixed his faucets so they wouldn't leak all over the place and sent him a bill. He gets really pouty and angry and does the famous shit on the stovetop. He does experiments with various places to piss and poop, eventually settling on leaving it in baggies around the house. When I tell him this is unacceptable, he responds with a demand to use my bathroom, which I refuse. Around this time, while cleaning the stove top, I find the cat in the oven. It has a collar on it so I put it in a box and return it to the owners, not explaining where I found it, and advising them not to look in the box. I don't know how that turned out, and I didn't give them my name. I hope it got hit by a car and wasn't killed by Jed.
TIME C: Jed starts trying to get at me by playing his subwoofer really loud at odd hours, and demanding to use the bathroom. I get back at him by packing away all of his stuff, (including the audio equipment) and storing it in a friend's storage unit across town. I think that he started to really go truly crazy at this point. I come home finding him taking things out of my room and putting them into his truck. I restrain him and call the police. By this point he is beyond all rationality and is completely flipping out, so he is put in the cop car for a while and the officer helps me unload my things from his truck. For some bizarre reason the officer does not arrest him, but after "talking to him" lets him go. I think my calm temperament made the officer not realize he was violent and that is why I was restraining him. (My motto in life: "So it goes.")
TIME D: I dub this time the sealing. I really don't mind cleaning up poop and piss, I used to be assistant manager of an apartment complex, but it is taking too much time to clean. I buy a range-top, and seal things off after writing a surrender letter to Jed, declaring that he has evicted me from the common area. Shortly after I come up with my Home Alone security system, withhold rent except for a nominal $50 a month, and go on with life as if I did not have a crazy room-mate sealed away in the other end of the apartment. Time left on lease at this point: 2 months.
Edit: Time D is when he shits in the bushes and is arrested for the night.
TIME E: The black time. I am not sure what exactly went on in the apartment during these two or three weeks. This is around the time finals are going on, so I really don't care. Water starts leaking from the wall, so I re-enter the common area to see what is up. This description really deserves its own post, and will clog the time-line up, so I'll elaborate later. I fix the water leak, which he had been covering up with newspapers, and promptly exit. Once he finds out I was in his area he flips out and makes a lot of noise over there, but I do not investigate.
Remainder: There is one further, final re-entry by myself, with a flashlight. I couldn't get in with my key because the door was messed up, and his sliding door was blocked with a mattress, so I kicked down the door and entered. After a quick walk-through I call the fire department, the landlord, the police, and an ambulance. This is full of drama and will be detailed in its own post.
My name is Erin Leigh Tyler and I am a psychotic slut.
My name is Erin Leigh Tyler and I am a psychotic slut.
What the fuck is all of this Jed shit?
My name is Erin Leigh Tyler and I am a psychotic slut.
The Sealing.
I eventually got so pissed off at the condition of the rest of the apartment that I could only deal with it by sealing it off, and ignoring it. Essentially there is a blank period of about a month where I absolutely ignored anything from the common area, which is why it got so bad. This is where the sealing begins. Put a date mark right here, because this is where shit gets crazy.
I had had enough. I bought a minifridge, a plug-in stovetop, two padlocked footlockers, a wooden bar, duct tape, a remote-control car, and an external padlock. My private area had two entrances... Here, I best sum up my little fortress in this post I made in another thread:
Ok, if you've ever owned a sliding door, you know that you can secure it from being opened by putting a wooden dowel in the treads while the door is closed. This is great, except it can't be opened from the outside. So what I did, was I attached a string to the dowel, and lead the string up to the top of the door, through a little loop-nail, and back down to a remote controlled car. By moving the car with a remote control from outside the apartment, I could cause the string to be tugged, raising the dowel, and granting me access to the interior of the apartment. I'm almost more proud of the wire trick, because I gain endless pleasure from that fucker spending hours and hours trying to yank on this stupid dummy wire I put out there for him in order to get inside and mess with my shit.
Actually, upon reflection, I really want to share how I kept my room-mate out of my private area. It was dubbed the "Home Alone" security system.
I had two potential entrances to my private area, a sliding glass patio door and a regular door to the common area. I secured the common door with a padlock on the outside which was really just for show. The inside was barricaded. At the bottom I had a rolled up towel, and I sealed the rest of it with tape to avoid smell or other chemical assaults from the common area. I packed against the door with my king-sized bed, which was in turn secured from being dislodged by a bookshelf full of weights and books. Even if he got through the padlock, he would not have been able to open the door without busting it in two. The top half of the door was unsecured; I was worried he might break the door and gain access, so when I seized his stuff I had it put in public storage across town.
Now the sliding glass door is where the home alone shit comes in. It had a lock, but it was nonfunctional and only accessible from the inside. So in order to secure the door while I was away, I got a remote controlled car, attached it to a string which was secured by a fisheye screw at the top of the door, and tied to a security bar which would drop into the tread of the sliding door, preventing it from being opened.
My name is Erin Leigh Tyler and I am a psychotic slut.
My name is Erin Leigh Tyler and I am a psychotic slut.
Someone call Bunny and check on her, seriously, I have a hard time believing that someone here is that cruel. Also, I don't believe anyone gives a damn enough to post it over and over.
If it's her reposting it, CHECK ON HER, I'M FUCKING SERIOUS.
Don't worry 6:21, I'm perfectly fine, I just wanted to let you know that my name is Erin Leigh Tyler and I am a psychotic slut.
Peace, love and boobies,
Bunny
Once again, Bunny faker douche repeats it over and over then has the audacity to tell people to check on her and get her some help.
Fuck you
What the fuck is wrong with you guys? Stop stalking her and her sister.
My name is Erin Leigh Tyler and I am a psychotic slut.
I don't think copypaste dude is the same as "Check on her" dude.
" I have a hard time believing that someone here is that cruel. Also, I don't believe anyone gives a damn enough to post it over and over."
Really? I don't. There are some crazies here.
Geez, it used to just be people mocking Tucker's ridiculous claims.
My name is Erin Leigh Tyler and I am a psychotic slut.
Who the fuck are these ass hats?
this is fucking wrong
This board has reached a new low. I'm taking a 2 day vacation from it as punishment.
OH, THE HUMANITY!!!!!
Tucker Max is still a douchebag, by the way.
Man, I wish we had a REAL place where we could post, so we wouldn't have to deal with this nonsense.
I can handle reading anonymous posts, but these retarded trolls are too much. Would a little IP-banning power be too much to ask for?
Don't lie, Deconstruction Guy/you'll be back, by and by.
Not me.
If what you read doesn't sound like me, then it isn't me.
^^
Wow, and that guy is definitely not me. First we have one guy saying I'm leaving, then another saying that the first guy wasn't me.
I'm going to have to create an official blogger account.
Jesus, why does everyone have their panties in a twist over postings about TheBunny...whether or not that really was her posting, it's not like anything said was actually false.
Cockly, we need you man. I know you're alive.
So when I came home, I would whip out my little remote control, make the RC car run off and lift the bar, then gain access to the apartment. To prevent this system from being discovered, I papered the inside of the sliding door with butcher paper, and I ran a wire outside of the door in an obvious manner, so that the roomie would think that this wire somehow, if tugged correctly, would undo the lock. To my knowledge, all of his attempts to get inside my apartment were by messing with this wire, which was attached to the handle of an antique coffee grinder and a paint can. If you tugged it, you'd get a weird uneven resistance as the handle crank turned and the paint can danced, which added to the illusion that this wire was some secret way of ingress. I was a little worried about the batteries dying in the remote. Apparently it worked out though, because it could sit for long periods of time without draining the battery. I tested it and it lasted a weekend with no problem, not even slight sluggishness. I think it went into sleep mode or something. I had a crazy backup system whereby the car wasn't required to even lift the bar, but instead just nudge a little thing that would roll down a ramp, knocking the bar out of place, just in case it was running too low on power to lift the bar, but I never had to use it because the batteries lasted. They even lasted for a week while I was away on break.
I heard this account from the neighbors, because it occurred while I was away, but apparently he had lost his front door key, had some kind of intestinal problem, and had to take a shit really bad. All of the neighbors he knew he had already hit up for toilet access and been refused by this point. So he's swearing like crazy and yanking at this wire, and bashing against the door in a frenzied desperation when the neighbors call the cops, reporting a B&E. When the cops show up he's taking a shit in the bushes just outside my window. I fucking hate him so much.
I think he went crazy and lost all his friends at some point, because around the time I barricaded, I stopped hearing parties. In fact, I stopped hearing anything from the common area of the apartment, except for the occasional formless moans and thumping. I don't know precisely what went on in there, because I mentally washed my hands of the whole area. I did, however, start smelling odors. I taped up my door. I know it wasn't smart to do things like this, but I was just fucking sick of dealing with his shit. I didn't call the landlord or anything, despite the fact that I knew he was destroying things over there. After cleaning so much of his shit up, I just wanted the universal god of justice to see what a wreck the place would become without my presence.
Forgive me for being a little spotty in my descriptions after this point. What I do know of what transpired over there I can only reconstruct from forensic evidence, what precisely was destroyed, what common friends have told me in their accounts, and two forays over into the waste zone over the next two months. I essentially didn't even see the front door of our apartment during this time.
It was a Friday night. I walked into my friend Gigi’s apartment, and dropped my bag in her foyer. As I had been drinking quite heavily, it landed hard, something probably breaking within its confines. I sat down on the wood planks in Gigi’s foyer and got to work pulling my snake skin boots off one by one. My pigtails kept flopping into my eyes. In Gigi’s living room I could see the flickering of a television set and light from the bulbs of her Christmas tree. The TV made no noise, but I could hear moaning. It was my boyfriend’s moaning.
Now curious, I stood up and padded into the living room, and there, on Gigi’s couch was my boyfriend getting a blowjob from a topless girl.
The girl looked up. She kept her hand on his dick, probably from the shock of being caught, but her mouth came loose and stayed open in an “O” shape. Her eyes were wide and remorseful. She tried talking, “I, uh… Oh my god…”
I was in shock too. I put my hands on my hips, and rocked from one socked foot to the other. I angrily pulled a pig tail behind my shoulder and said, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
She took her hands off Tucker's dick and sat back on her feet. Her face was the color of a parking ticket.
Again I asked her, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Hot Tits: “I’m… I’m so sorry!”
Bunny: "Well you should be."
Hot Tits: "I... uh..."
Bunny: “You can’t use your teeth like that.”
Hot Tits: “Wha..?”
Bunny: “Here, let me show you. I’ll let you lick his balls if you’re a good girl.”
Hot Tits was relieved that I wasn't angry. She crawled backwards to let me in, and I knelt between Tucker’s legs and began sucking, stopping every so often to give lessons to Hot Tits on teeth coverage, tongue use, hand positions etc. Tucker, being somewhat inured to this kind of thing, picked up a video game controller and began playing Mario Kart, laughing and saying immature things like, “Gigi, there’s room for one more down there,” and “Some guys call this momentous, I call it Friday.” Gigi sat down next to him on the couch with a bowl of popcorn, rolling her eyes and watching Hot Tits give head. She was topless too. In between bites of popcorn, she would encourage Hot Tits’ progress.
[Now would be a good time to provide a description of Hot Tits’ and Gigi’s appearances, though it’s always a good time to think about Hot Tits and Gigi naked. Gigi is over six feet tall, beautiful, blonde, lithe, and has the most gorgeous breasts I’ve ever laid hands on. They defy gravity, honestly. Hot Tits is brunette, also beautiful, muscular, smooth and has the greatest ass I’ve ever laid hands on. Again with the defiance of gravity thing. The two of them could take on and vanquish anyone in a quarter-bouncing competition. Tits! Ass! Ping! Ping!]
While giving Hot Tits Oral Sex instruction, it occurred to me that her tits were, indeed, very hot. I decided to grab them and lick her back while she was giving head. A minute into this, it occurred to me that we were omitting 50% of the Oral Sex subject. It also occurred to me that Tucker was being a spoiled asshole with the Mario Kart, and wasn’t concentrating anyway, so I took Hot Tits to Gigi’s bedroom to instruct her further.
Gigi’s bedroom was the color of the inside of a blood orange. Her bed was big and soft, and her sheets were red satin. Once Hot Tits and I were fully naked, the scene was alarmingly porn-like. All that was missing were lubricants and platform shoes, and I suspected Gigi had supplies like that hidden somewhere. I considered going to look for them, but was distracted by Hot Tits, who needed no further instruction in the other half of the discipline. In fact, she could have taught me a thing or two.
As I am quite sensitive and easily provoked, I came several times. As I am self absorbed, I did so loudly, which prompted Gigi and Tucker to join us in the Blood Orange room. Gigi came in first and dropped her skirt, and Tucker quickly followed her, smacking her ass and acting like nothing was out of the usual though his penis was achingly erect.
Four naked people in a bed seems like an awkward arrangement. It’s not, really. It’s almost like communism, if communism actually worked. Everyone is working toward a common goal, and that goal is getting off; thus, if everyone does their part, they get paid in orgasm. Where there is need, there are hands, fingers, tongues or a penis to meet it. So in group sex, everyone wins. It's egalitarian!
Or so I had thought, up to that night.
I can’t remember particular positions, who was where, what was inside what, etc. It was more like an erotic pile of limbs, a sex beast with skin full of blood, parts of it purple and wet. We were like pieces of a puzzle that were hell bent on getting put into place, whether we fit together or not.
I do remember where I was when Hot Tits was about to climax, as Tucker and I were fucking over her. I could see the lower half of her torso convulse as Gigi worked on her. She was moaning loudly below us. She picked her head up and said, “More fingers.” Gigi shrugged and obliged.
The extra fingers made Hot Tits almost wail with pleasure. Her hips were rotating into the bed, thighs clenching in direct proportion to the amount of fingers Gigi had inside of her. She yelped “More!” Gigi shrugged again, and added more fingers. Hot Tits squeezed her own breasts with alarming ferocity and yelled “Harder!”
As I was being fucked, and I like being fucked, I decided to pay attention to this and not the escalating finger situation. This proved difficult, as Hot Tits kept yelling “More fingers!” or “Harder!”
When Gigi’s whole hand disappeared into her body, even Tucker stopped and giggled. We were amazed. It was as if Hot Tits was a magician in ‘backward land,’ putting that big suitcase INTO her jacket, instead of pulling it out. It didn’t seem possible, this trick. I had been in there not twenty minutes prior, and it wasn’t that big a space.
Hot Tits’ screaming got noticeably louder. This turned our amazement back into horniness. We kept fucking, and Gigi kept plowing away. Hot Tits wanted it harder and harder, and Gigi kept obliging. Soon she was literally punching this girl at full force, her hand swallowed whole, up to the wrist. The force of Gigi’s punches must have been considerable; she was a Division One athlete in college. It looked ungodly painful, but Hot Tits loved it.
"OHAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! HAAAARRRRRRRDERRRRR!!!!!"
Gigi looked like she was hitting a punching bag. Her feet were braced against the blood orange colored wall for traction. I began to laugh.
Tucker pulled out and came on Hot Tits’ face, which sent her over the edge. She literally exploded with orgasm, her hips two feet off the bed. I rolled over and landed on a pillow, laughing hysterically. I held up one of my hands, squeezed it into an elongated fist and imagined it inside me. It just didn’t seem possible. Hot Tits was not of this world. She was a sorceress of some sort, the sorceress of expandable vaginas. I was in awe of her powers, and very jealous of her explosive orgasm. Out the window went my egalitarian group sex theory.
Gigi leaned over Hot Tits, who was moaning inaudibly in post-coital bliss. She kissed and licked her lips, her hand still inside the girl, stuck in there for all we knew. I was halfway to the bathroom to shower when she dislodged the hand. It was then I heard, “OH MY GOD.”
Back in the room, Tucker was doubled over with laughter. Gigi sat on the bed above Hot Tits looking like a battlefield medic. Her hand was covered in blood past her wrist.
Apparently Hot Tits was not an all-powerful vaginal sorceress. She just had a very high tolerance for pain. Still pretty amazing, though.
Cockly, we need you man. I know you're alive.
I AM A WORTHLESS, PSYCHOTIC SLUT!!!
VIRUS ATTACK IN THESE POSTS, NO TIME TO READ TO SEE IF THIS POST ALREADY EXISTS
ABANDON THIS THREAD, NOT A JOKE, SERIOUSLY
See what happens when you fuck with Andrew Ator (aka McCoyMountain).
Whoever's posting the Jed / shit / "worst roommate in the world" story, awesome. Got a source on that? I came across it once, years back, when I was still reading Something Awful. I didn't think to save it but it always stuck in my mind as being one of the more demented things I've ever come across.
Actually, Jed was much smaller than me, and emaciated. In retrospect I could have taken him, easily. That's just not how I do things. I do not break the law. Ever. I absolutely must have a clean, orderly house, which is why I went around cleaning shit up, regardless of who did it. I am not some cowardly little bitch, in fact, I think Jed was afraid of me, which is why he did passive aggressive shit like shitting in light fixtures. I generally don't try to solve disputes by shouting or anything, I just quietly give notice of the unacceptable condition, document it, and clean it up. Somewhere back at my parent's house I have a box full of typed, dated, signed letters to Jed stating the date, time, and extent of a mess I had to clean up, and a notice that such behavior is not acceptable, and that unless he stopped, I would move out and make him responsible for rent. Those letters helped me eventually recover back rent from him for the equivalent value of the common area he exclusively occupied during my stay there.
I was crazy busy with schoolwork and my job, so I basically just shut the whole situation out of my mind for a while. After some time, I came to the realization that this guy might start a fire and get us both killed, which is really the beginning of the end. The thing that ended the insanity was his discovery that
A) He had access to the fuse box
and
B) He could trip the fuse to my room with some metal and a hallway plug
and
C) He was too stupid to manually flip the fuse switch and just turn off my power, so he had to go the fire hazard route. I think he might have been afraid of touching the fuse box for fear of being electrocuted.
But I'll detail the downfall of this shit later.
For those of you wondering why I didn't call the landlord. I was kind of in denial. I just figured that whatever happened over there was Jed's business. I think I was on a sublease under him at the time, so I wasn't too worried about damage to the apartment. I withheld rent from him during this time too. His family was paying rent for the whole unit, and I would reimburse him directly. I deducted cleaning costs and other things from the rent I paid him. I think he was too embarrassed or crazy to call me on it, or have his lawyer financial guru daddy get me busted.
Quick fact: His father was on the cover of Forbes magazine like 8 years ago.
Have you ever had something go wrong, and, knowing it was someone else’s responsibility, just didn't intervene out of sheer curiosity about how it fucking bad it would get? I didn't turn him in for that reason too. I just... wanted to see how bad it would get. I was stupid, mad, curious, and really didn't have any responsibility for damage to the unit, knowing his family would cover the costs.
Edit: So, basically, I didn't kick his ass for two reasons: A) I am always law abiding to a fault, and B) The setup I made was really very convenient for me, and made it so I never even had any contact with the guy. It was basically rent-free... I paid $50 a month in rent after all of the deductions for unsanitary conditions and ouster from the common area I made (and documented... and got to keep after the courts got done looking at it...), and I was exiting and entering from an opposite end of the house. Basically, I only really knew what Jed was up to during this period from forensic evidence in the apartment and the accounts of friends, neighbors, and the police.
Tucker's fans at work:
http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Tucker+Max
"4. Tucker Max 299 up, 386 down
Tucker Max can think whatever he wants, and do whatever he wants, because he is indeed Jesus. Bow to Tucker and spread his word.
Tucker 3:16 - Thou Shalt Blow me, and pass thine liquor ye old whore!"
I'm sure this is a funny joke to Tucker fans and all in good fun... until, like in the case of Frank Cirillo, it's no longer good fun and somebody gets raped.
Sure Tucker Max has absolutely nothing to do with adding to the mindset of a rapist.
bunny's sister is not attractive. that picture is far away, she's hiding behind glasses, and it's unfocused. and you can still tell this is not an attractive woman. and bunny is a 5.5 on a good day
^^
And I'm sure you are a regular Cassanova
BLOGPOST BLOGPOST BLOGPOST
all mah blogposts in da house
ALL UR BLOGPOSTS ARE BELONG 2 US
It's time to do the Happy Happy Tucker Dance!
Tucker's family must be real proud.
I love it when the Tucker fanboys come out to play - it goes to show how closely they are following this blog and how insecure they feel that when people start to hit the mark with comments and decontructs, they go into total meltdown.
What I am curious about is the fact that Tucker has admitted in his entry about the x-ray that two people who work at this centre bsically broke in at midnight and used the facility for their own pathetic purposes. Would the complee abuse of the facilities not get them into serious shit with their employee?
PS Erin - feel like defending this dumb fuck after seeing this? Make you feel proud to know him?
I'll have a turtle soup, and make it snappy.
"I love it when the Tucker fanboys come out to play - it goes to show how closely they are following this blog and how insecure they feel that when people start to hit the mark with comments and decontructs, they go into total meltdown."
In the words of the great, lisping, effeminate douche,
EXACTLY.
What's even funnier is over time watching all the tmmb sinners come here, see the light, and convert to church of 'haterz'
Hey tugger, we're stealing your fan-bois. What are you going to do about it you fat, tiny-handed lying douche???
Oh yeah, thats right, nothing
Rapists on patrol!
http://radgeek.com/gt/2009/08/24/rapists-on-patrol-6/
1. "You may remember Officer Thomas Tolstoy, the serial rapist on Officer Jeffrey Cujdik’s elite narco-police shake-down squad, who, besides participating in repeated evidence-less paramilitary drug raids, also repeatedly took the opportunity to pull women aside during these hyperviolent home invasions and sexually assault them. ..."
2. "The city government in Atlantic Beach, Florida hired a lawyer, allegedly to investigate charges that chief Michael Classey had forced unwanted sexual contact on a female officer, ..."
3. "Earlier this month, Deputy Gary C. Handley turned himself in to face charges on one county of sexual battery for forcing unwanted inappropriate touching ..."
And it goes on!
I'll be convinced that this country believes in freedom when it brings the army home and turns them loose on the police departments.
Jeez, psycho much on the boards.
Aliens, omg ur my new bffs! u got life on ur world? txt me to ur leader!
What is going on with this board? It's sad...
The good and sane haters always outlast the trolls though.
Seriously, what a douchebag.
Are there any dragons here? I'm a cute 17yo and I'm looking for a sexy dragon. Does anyone know if dragons can fertilize human eggs? I get kind of excited thinking about it.
They've been in full on press since the tour started. I'm almost 100% sure the word has come down to disrupt this board.
Especially cause a lot of us carry information we share from this board across the whole web To IMBd, Rotten Tomatoes, etc.
@7:51
boggle
What's the difference between dog shit and niggers?
When dog shit gets old it turns White and quits stinking.
How long does it take a nigger bitch to take a shit?
9 months.
Someone else and I headed over to Cockly's new blog. Hopefully you know the URL.
I figure the more we annoy them the more they feel the need to flood this blog with nonsense.
Or maybe they're afraid researchers or other media people will find this blog and begin to consider the various doubts about TM...? They figure that if all they can find is a place full if spam and repeated vitriol about an associate of TM's they'll ignore it immediately.
Just a theory.
130 screens! (thats about 60 adjusted for otto bullshit speak)
suck on that fan-bois
lifespan of tuggers 'film' career as follows;-
- i hope they give me butht secthts in prison released on 60 screens following ZERO press or word of mouth buzz
- 2 weekends later, makes <$0.5M
- removed from cinemas
- dvd / ppv follows a couple of months later
-revenue provides just enough for tugger to service the payments on his shitty LA apartment and chevy malibu, maybe for some more rogaine / KFC buckets for nils / anal plugs for r. holiday if they're lucky.
"I figure the more we annoy them the more they feel the need to flood this blog with nonsense.
Or maybe they're afraid researchers or other media people will find this blog and begin to consider the various doubts about TM...? They figure that if all they can find is a place full if spam and repeated vitriol about an associate of TM's they'll ignore it immediately.
Just a theory."
Anon, it's just a pity that their zany, hijinxy, nefarious schemes can be easily defeated by judicious use of the page down key.
Valid theory.
And crap flooding is proof that this blog is getting under Tucker's skin.
I've noticed something interesting too. Whenever this blog gets hit, more anti-Tucker material ends up on a host of other sites. If the haterz are denied an outlet, they merely post elsewhere.
Scoresman, got a tattoo.
Having to page down 90& of the page to read the interesting/insightful/funny posts does get irritating though.
Fingers crossed for the short attention span of TM's fans to assert itself yet another time.
That symbol was meant to be a per cent sign...
Flickryoumahalobeebo
Telephone without the T!
Digg but with a triple G!
Make your elevator pitch!
Code it up and flip the switch!
The Sons of Martha
Rudyard Kipling
The Sons of Mary seldom bother,
for they have inherited that good part;
But the Sons of Martha favour their Mother
of the careful soul and the troubled heart.
And because she lost her temper once,
and because she was rude to the Lord her Guest,
Her Sons must wait upon Mary's Sons,
world without end, reprieve, or rest.
It is their care in all the ages
to take the buffet and cushion the shock.
It is their care that the gear engages;
it is their care that the switches lock.
It is their care that the wheels run truly;
it is their care to embark and entrain,
Tally, transport, and deliver duly
the Sons of Mary by land and main.
They say to mountains ``Be ye removèd.''
They say to the lesser floods ``Be dry.''
Under their rods are the rocks reprovèd---
they are not afraid of that which is high.
Then do the hill-tops shake to the summit---
then is the bed of the deep laid bare,
That the Sons of Mary may overcome it,
pleasantly sleeping and unaware.
They finger Death at their gloves' end
where they piece and repiece the living wires.
He rears against the gates they tend:
they feed him hungry behind their fires.
Early at dawn, ere men see clear,
they stumble into his terrible stall,
And hale him forth like a haltered steer,
and goad and turn him till evenfall.
To these from birth is Belief forbidden;
from these till death is Relief afar.
They are concerned with matters hidden---
under the earthline their altars are---
The secret fountains to follow up,
waters withdrawn to restore to the mouth,
And gather the floods as in a cup,
and pour them again at a city's drouth.
They do not preach that their God will rouse them
a little before the nuts work loose.
They do not preach that His Pity allows them
to drop their job when they damn-well choose.
As in the thronged and the lighted ways,
so in the dark and the desert they stand,
Wary and watchful all their days
that their brethren's ways may be long in the land.
Raise ye the stone or cleave the wood
to make a path more fair or flat;
Lo, it is black already with the blood
some Son of Martha spilled for that!
Not as a ladder from earth to Heaven,
not as a witness to any creed,
But simple service simply given
to his own kind in their common need.
And the Sons of Mary smile and are blessèd---
they know the Angels are on their side.
They know in them is the Grace confessèd,
and for them are the Mercies multiplied.
They sit at the feet---they hear the Word---
they see how truly the Promise runs.
They have cast their burden upon the Lord, and---
the Lord He lays it on Martha's Sons!
The Bunny story + the rape accusation are both true. I had to deal with the aftermath of a crying Bunny. Not fun.
That she is likely the one bashing the public release of their dirty laundry (and this only scratches the surface of their mutually destructive relationship) only shows how completely broken & damaged she is.
I'm not going to defend her right & desire to defend Tucker: she has destroyed enough relationships, with people who really liked her (but despised Tucker & his posse), by constantly running back to/defending Tucker. However its her life; most of us walked away a long time ago---it may be interesting to drive by a car crash & see the damage, but constantly revisiting it, sometimes daily, isn't constructive.
She can't/won't break away, even if she has tried (leaving LA was NOT about leaving LA). Part of it is that Tucker won't let her---there was a time when they were in LA, and no longer together, where Tucker would call her 50x a day, just to check in to see what she was doing &/or re-assure him that she was under his control.
Most of us who are/were within their sick circle of influence have left. Plenty of tales to tell, however now is not the time. Ala James Frey, the exposure, fall & damage to Tucker will be much greater if/when he ever becomes "famous" outside of his twisted little juvenile circle.
The Bunny story + the rape accusation are both true. I had to deal with the aftermath of a crying Bunny. Not fun.
That she is likely the one bashing the public release of their dirty laundry (and this only scratches the surface of their mutually destructive relationship) only shows how completely broken & damaged she is.
I'm not going to defend her right & desire to defend Tucker: she has destroyed enough relationships, with people who really liked her (but despised Tucker & his posse), by constantly running back to/defending Tucker. However its her life; most of us walked away a long time ago---it may be interesting to drive by a car crash & see the damage, but constantly revisiting it, sometimes daily, isn't constructive.
She can't/won't break away, even if she has tried (leaving LA was NOT about leaving LA). Part of it is that Tucker won't let her---there was a time when they were in LA, and no longer together, where Tucker would call her 50x a day, just to check in to see what she was doing &/or re-assure him that she was under his control.
Most of us who are/were within their sick circle of influence have left. Plenty of tales to tell, however now is not the time. Ala James Frey, the exposure, fall & damage to Tucker will be much greater if/when he ever becomes "famous" outside of his twisted little juvenile circle.
I slept with trixie.
I said what what, in the butt.
Please. STFU.
Now I have to watch that episode again.
"I slept with trixie."
I hear she likes it in the asshole. I'd fuck her asshole. I'd fuck the Bunny in her asshole too.
So Tucker's buddy hurt his arm and needed a late night xray. Luckily a fan of Tucker's works at a place that has an xray machine. She busts out the keys and takes seXrays. Awesome.
Wait.
Let's back up a bit. Did Tucker's buddy need an xray or did he need to see a doctor so the doctor could examine and xray?
Who was going to evaluate the outcome of the xray to determine arm damage? Tucker?
TUCKER looking at xray:
"We don't need a fucking doctor. I can see what's wrong you idiots. The humerus of the upper arm and the paired radius and ulna of the forearm seems to have suffered tramua and shit."
TUCKER FURTHER EXAMINES XRAY
"The bony prominence at the very tip of the elbow, the olecranon process of the ulna, otherwise called the antecubital fossa, that shits seems to have been fucked with. Probably hurt it choking out a guy."
my name is tucker max and i rape drunk girl vagina with my diseased man penis
I recommend all single American guys marry Ukrainian girls. Best women in the world! Blonde and thin and hot and love sex! No feminist bullshit!
Scoresman, got a tattoo! I'm Scoresman, I'm about meeting girls, I'm about meeting guys. Scoresman is about having fun!
According to Ayn Rand's masterpiece, We the Living, the three choices a human being has in the face of tyranny are 1) Kill yourself, 2) Kill your mind, 3) or Leave.
America is in the grip of a tyranny just as bad as communism, in fact worse than Soviet Russia. Soviet Russia, despite grinding its people down as much as it could, never imagined importing a new race of people into the country in order to genocide the native inhabitants. That was an innovation of the West. America took the lead in waging war against its own people through complete and total race-replacement immigration. America is in fact the worst government in human history, the most evil government to have ever lived. Even though China killed 35 million Chinese, they never imagined killing off all Chinese, or replacing Chinese with negroes after the slaughter was done. America, however, has taken an entire continent of whites and thrown it to the wolves. Not only the 200 million or so whites currently living in America, but all the whites who will never be born on our once mighty continent -- larger than Europe and thus holding the greatest potential as the cradle of the white race -- have been murdered forever. It is a crime of unspeakable magnitude, a tyranny beyond any bearing.
This insane behavior has been papered over by a paper-thin excuse, that all people are interchangeable parts, that it doesn't matter who exists and who doesn't, that white people have no reason to live anyway -- and that therefore killing off all whites and replacing them all with browns is not, in fact, a crime. This paper thin excuse does not work -- if people truly believed we were all interchangeable parts, you would not see the segregation of the races that everyone personally chooses in their private lives. The friends they make, the church they attend, the neighborhood they live in, the race they marry, all of it innately rebels against the theory that everyone is the same and interchangeable. Race matters. It matters to everyone. The race around whom we live is one of the most pivotal factors for human happiness possible.
What we are seeing then is not that the excuse is working, all people immediately see through it and declare it false in their own lives. Instead, the excuse is more subtle. People imagine that even though they happen to be racist, that the mythical person 'out there,' 'somewhere,' leads a completely multicultural, multiracial existence, just like the excuse says we should. These people, constantly portrayed in the media and tv shows and movies as absolutely loving diversity and always having a black 'best friend,' and a black 'boyfriend/girlfriend,' must be the majority. So each white individual assumes he is in the minority, and that even though the system does not work for him, it must work grandly for everyone else, or else why would the media have so many shows about it? This placates him, in essence, the white person 'takes one for the team.' The very collectivist loyalty that proves the theory of multiculturalism a lie, allows him to suffer for the greater good of all his white contemporaries who apparently all love diversity and can't have enough of it.
Next, the paper thin excuse is enforced in the same way Communism was enforced in Russia -- you never know when you are being spied on, who will betray you, who is the informer in your circle of friends -- you never know when it is safe to tell the truth. The fact is, everyone is a racist. We are born racist, we are born preferring our race, we are even born hating and fearing people of other races. We are attracted to people like ourselves and hate people who aren't like us. This evolved naturally because anyone who didn't feel these emotions, had no incentive to further their collective gene pool, and lost in competition with those who were enthusiastic pushers of their own collective gene pool. Evolution has so hard wired racism into everyone's brains, that this IN ITSELF proves racism is necessary for survival. That everyone who isn't racist, has already long gone extinct. It also proves that anyone who isn't racist today, is also destined for extinction. It is as suicidal to ignore this natural urge, as it is to stop breathing, eating, or reproducing, in some demented belief that we should 'rise above our instincts' and 'be better than our animal selves.'
So when people gather in a group and denounce racism, it isn't because a single person there believes it. It's because all of them are terrified of being singled out as the racist in the group and attacked by their peers. Their peers, likewise, are terrified when a friend or family member announces they are racist, for fear of guilt by association. They will then denounce in the loudest and most scathing tones their former friend or family member, in order to escape the tar brush of being implicated alongside their erstwhile intimate with the same crime. If you don't join in the attack on your peers, you will join in being attacked by your peers. Therefore we have a foolproof system, where everyone is actually racist, and yet no one can either be a racist or tolerate a racist in their midst.
How has racism become such a terrifying charge? Well, sometime around the 1950's, racism was blamed for slavery, the Holocaust, murder, war, poverty, and every other activity humans find repellent. If racists were responsible for everything that had ever gone wrong in human history, no one wanted to be a racist. There was even a on-the-surface good argument for this theory: The people who took slaves, genocided jews, murdered blacks in lynch mobs, invaded other people's lands, denied people jobs or services, so on and so forth -- WERE ALL RACISTS. This is proof positive that racism is the root of all evil, is it not? But of course it isn't, because they could just have easily said the people who did all those things all believed in breathing, or eating, and that therefore breathers and eaters are the root of all evil. By creating a false correlation between racism and evil (all good acts as well as evil acts were also done by racists), people decided that racism must be the ultimate evil and racists the darkest force in the universe. Just like the Soviets blamed everything on reactionaries and kulaks, today we are told that everything would be perfect if not for all the racists in our midst. Of course, since racism is as natural as breathing and eating, and since racism can only end when a group of people loses all wish to survive and dies just as soon as anti-breathers or anti-eaters would die, there will always be racists to blame for people's woes. Just like self-interest is as natural as breathing or eating, and self-interest will only end when a group loses all survival value and dies, and thus there will always be 'reactionaries' and 'kulaks' available for the Soviet Union to blame.
This game of first identifying a trait that everyone is born with, then blaming this trait for all evil that has ever happened, while ignoring the obvious good it must do for it to have evolved in humans in the first place, then attacking people for possessing this trait, is a tool of tyranny. There could be no better process for a tyranny to keep power than to make people feel guilty for possessing a trait they cannot help but have.
The truth is racism is not only the source of war, genocide, crime, oppression, and all that jazz. Racism is also the source of love, community, altruism, security, prosperity, meaning, identity, purpose, and pride. Racism is an absolute necessity in life and anyone who lacks it suffers and dies within a geological eyeblink. Scientific studies have already verified that people who take pride in their race are happier than those who do not. History has already shown what happens to any country that abandons its own people to foreigners (slavery and death). Putnam has already proven in his book 'Bowling Alone' what happens to the community life in the face of diversity. The very biology of the human being, our love for those related to us and fear of those unrelated to us, has the genetic stamp of approval of God almighty, our creator, evolution, that put it there for a reason. By piling all the sins of racism at racism's feet, while completely denying any of its benefits -- by ignoring the fact that racism like any other instinct can be abused -- that obesity does not mean eating is wrong, nor does hyperventilating prove breathing is wrong -- it has been possible to completely distort the argument to the point that racism is inexcusable and absolutely evil.
How do people deal with the fact that they discover themselves to be completely racist in all their decisions, while also believing that racism is absolutely evil? There is a lot of Orwellian doublethink. People pretend they are avoiding a 'culture,' or a 'bad environment,' when in fact all they are ever avoiding is non-whites. Then there are people who don't make any excuses for themselves, and feel miserable and guilty every day of their lives, self-flagellating themselves in private and public over how racist they are and how they cannot exorcise this inner demon. Then there are the people who manage to find one person they can relate to outside of their race, and thus pride themselves with clearly not being racist, while living in a white neighborhood, going to a white church, married to a white, with 9 out of 10 white friends, and so on. The schemes are various and multitudinous, but it all boils down to living a lie.
Living a lie is humiliating, it breaks the human spirit, it's degenerate. The results are swift and terrible. People who lived a lie in communist Russia fell to drinking, drug use, and the clearest of all symptoms of spiritual despair -- refusing to reproduce. Russia therefore has a third world standard of living among a first world people. They have been destroyed, annihilated, by living a lie, by living under the tyranny of a lie, by being made to feel guilty for who they are, by being forced to rebel against nature and reality, which made us the way we are for a reason. Now look at America and Europe -- alcohol and drugs used to be legal in our countries, there was even heroine available for consumption by all and sundry -- and yet not many people abused it. There were around 100,000 drug addicts in the entire United States when drugs were banned in the 1920's-1940's, less than 1% of the population. Now drugs, which we vigorously persecute and control with millions of law enforcement agents, are being used routinely by around 40% of the population. Alcohol used to be served to kids regularly and drunk every day by the peasants and nobility alike. They never had a problem with alcoholics like we do today, even with all our attempts to control alcohol consumption and keep it away from kids. The bars and New Year's Day celebrations of Russia and Britain today were never imagined by the rudest peasants of Russia or Britain of the 1800's.
Russia and the West have experienced convergent evolution. Even though different environmental factors were being applied to them, both peoples have adapted in the same way. The response to tyranny is always the same -- kill yourself, kill your mind, or leave. The response to feeling guilty, to living a lie, to being humiliated and ashamed, is always the same -- kill yourself, kill your mind, or leave. Both Russia and Europe has had a great exodus of people escaping to the far corners of the Earth. But there is another way to 'leave,' and that is not have children. If children are not born, they will effectively 'leave' this society, as will you, in time. People who can't bring themselves to commit suicide, can silently make sure they will not live in any sense of the word in the future, that no part of them will still exist to be oppressed and abused in the future. The birth rate of a people is a clear sign of their happiness, their spiritual health. When people feel confident and happy with themselves, they go on to have large families, like the baby boom after WWII. When they feel insecure and depressed, they have small families or none at all. This is where we stand today, and for the last 30 years this is where the West has stood. It is the greatest die off in our history. Worse than the black plague. Both Russia and Europe are killing their minds, they are rife with alcohol and drugs. Both Russia and Europe are killing themselves, suicide is much higher in modern life than it ever was in the 1800's or earlier, when people ostensibly had much lower living standards than today. It is spiritual health, mental health, not physical health, that determines suicide rates. Our technology has made us prosper materially, but nothing has nurtured our souls for a long time. The results should have been obvious as to what would happen if we rejected Nature and reality in favor of lies and tyranny, they are now clear from the simple facts of life all around us -- we are living in Hell and most of the West has already given up rather than live in it any longer.
Another way for people to 'leave' a tyrannical world, is to simply retreat into a tiny hole where the outside world can no longer touch them. Monasticism, secular style. These people feel completely alienated from the world, want nothing to do with it, and are in pain whenever they do have to interact with it. To divert their minds, they watch TV, play video games, read books, who knows what. Anything that doesn't involve the outside world is fine by them. These are the NEET's (Not in Education, Employment or Training.) and there are millions of them. People love to blame the victims, the NEET's themselves, for the phenomena of their existence, just as people love to blame suicides, alcoholics, and drug users for their choices, and yet it's obvious that it cannot be the individuals to blame. If the phenomena were all due to the failings and weakness of individuals, then the rates shouldn't change over the centuries, the same amount of people should have these failings and weaknesses every generation -- unless you can provide some sort of biological explanation for how one generation can be completely genetically unique, across the board, from all the generations that came before them who lacked these weaknesses. The alternative explanation, that society, the environment, has so drastically changed, that people who would have lived ordinary healthy lives in the past, are now driven to become NEET's, druggies, alcoholics, childless couples, or suicides, is the only explanation for this sudden upsurge in self-destruction.
Racism cannot possibly be to blame for societal self-immolation, as racism is always directed outwards against others, not inwards against one's own. In fact, it is the very lack of racism that is to blame for all of this. Racism is a society's immune system. It protects us against selfish individuals (cancer cells) from within, and from foreign invaders (viruses) from without. Just as there can be auto-immune disorders, racism can sometimes over leap its bounds and cause more harm than good -- look at the petty ethnic interests that sparked World War I and World War II for instance. But a total collapse of the immune system is not the solution to auto-immune disorders. Allowing selfish people to run roughshod over everyone around them, because 'individuals are all that matters,' allowing foreigners to invade, conquer, and despoil your lands 'because we are all equal,' is just as destructive as racism gone amok.
For fifty years now we have all been told to not be racist, that racism (and sexism, and anti-semitism, etc) is the source of all evil. For this reason, not a single inch of racism (or sexism, or anti-semitism, etc) has caused any of the problems of the modern era. Racism (or sexism, or anti-semitism, etc) cannot possibly be to blame for any of the hellish circumstances we find ourselves in today. And as it turns out, the world is now MUCH, MUCH more evil than it ever was before. This is not just a subjective statement of preference, it is objectively born out by the statistics of people's self-destroyed lives. Never have people been more depressed, more unhealthy, more self-destructive than today -- not once in history have birth rates depopulated a land more thoroughly than the black plague. It's a simple matter of cause and effect: First we banished racism, sexism, anti-semitism, homophobia, etc from the public sphere. Then we became the unhappiest people on earth and proceeded to kill ourselves off at a pace faster than the Black Death. Only a return to racism, sexism, and anti-semitism can possibly save us, because only by banishing these attitudes did we get here in the first place. C.S. Lewis once explained, that sometimes when people find they are lost and have strayed off the path, the only possible solution is to retrace their steps, go backwards until they have returned to where they started, and only then can they proceed forward again. In other words, progress is often simply returning to where we came from, when mistakes are made, there is nothing better than undoing the mistake.
When we got rid of racism, sexism, and anti-semitism, we doomed ourselves to today. A day where women have destroyed the family, children are no longer raised correctly, couples can no longer have meaningful and lasting relationships, and life can no longer be brought into the world. Where jews have destroyed our souls, by vilifying our history, replacing our uplifting epics with their degenerate lies in Hollywood and the media, and making us worship in their temples of holocaustianity, judeo-christianity and political correctness. Where other races steal the bread from our tables, the land from our ancestors, the birthright of our children, the language we speak, the government we ran, and even the wombs of our women, leaving us with nothing and nowhere for ourselves and our own. There is a direct link between all the problems society faces today, and the last fifty years we have lived in denial about the facts of life and the wisdom of our ancestors. (Who, UNIVERSALLY, were all racist, sexist, anti-semites, who I can quote ENDLESSLY from proving all of these points.) For anyone who wants a 'return to the good old days,' but refuses to return to the attitudes and philosophies and ideals that created the good old days, you are either cowards or hypocrites. A bunch of rotten fools who demand the benefits of something without ever undertaking its costs, its responsibilities, its actual creation.
It's clear as day that racism would not allow foreigners to waltz into our country, vote themselves welfare and take our jobs while raping our women.
It's clear as day sexism would not allow divorce, adultery, single motherhood or slut-spinsters who make a mockery of love.
It's clear as day that anti-semitism would not allow bank bailouts, media lies, filthy movies, or foreign wars for Israel.
All the ills of today would have been laughed away in scorn or slapped down with an iron fist of disdain a hundred years ago. No one would have stood for this shit, not for a single instant. When you take away all sanity and reason, every ability to protect ourselves and our society, what once was laughably simple and laughably easy to solve, is now an insurmountable dilemma threatening to drive us all to extinction. What a border guard or quiet talk could have solved yesterday, now requires an all out war today. This can't go on. What can't go on, won't go on. Either we continue our descent until every last person in the West has 1) killed themselves, 2) killed their mind, or 3) leaves, or we reverse our descent and return to the healthy society that once conquered the world and now can conquer the stars.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
Oh man...truly pathetic. I doubt we will relent. Just let Tucker post something ridiculous about protesters and how he loves women. And we'll be right back on him.
We're not going to stop.
^^^ Daaaaamn skippy. The haters always outlast the trolls.
I must say, though, that trolling in order to reduce the hating is really the work of thoughtful, virtuous, upstanding men and women of superior character and integrity. Tucker's always been known for his integrity and character, so this comes as no surprise.
Vive le doucebag blog!
Cockly has another blog...
If Cockly has another blog, for Christ's sake post the URL, you dipshit.
Tucker Max is STILL a douchebag.
in case anyone isn't aware, ryan holiday was banned from wikipedia for editing tucker's article like a faggot. he was also editing american apparel's article, and according to gawker, holiday works PR for american apparel. fastcompany says holiday does "online strategy" for american appparel. i think the reason holiday resigned from wikipedia in a huff (his username was TheRegicider) was so he didnt make american apparel look bad. if anyone wants to pwn him, check out his wikipedia activities. i hope gawker will pounce on him soon.
Ryan Holiday isn't important enough for Gawker to talk about him. Even though he reads a lot of books, which nobody else on Earth has ever done, he still isn't important enough.
Cockly's new site:
tuckermaxisadouche.blogspot.com/
Our other alternative, this one with at least somewhat active moderators:
tuckermaxlies.blogspot.com
Poor Tucker - nobody in the media has called him a rapist so he can't sue them. In fact nobody in the media has called him anything. In the media can't even be bothered to say "whos Tucker?" that how uninterested they are.
Keri Lyn you should be ashamed of yourself - you are going to look back on your pathetic attempt to support this movie and pin-point it as the exact moment your career curled up and died. You may feel your character is 'strong'- I dont know , havn't seen the movie. But just read Tuckers site awhile. Peruse the bile-inducing denigrating anti-women stories he tells and try and empathise with the creepy diseased mind that is Tugger Max. You have just lost the respect of 90% of right-minded females and quite a number of males as well, by siding with this very sad and delusional individual.
Scoresman, got a tattoo
Scoresman, got a tattoo. I'm Scoresman damnit...
in case anyone isn't aware, ryan holiday was banned from wikipedia for editing tucker's article like a faggot. he was also editing american apparel's article, and according to gawker, holiday works PR for american apparel. fastcompany says holiday does "online strategy" for american appparel. i think the reason holiday resigned from wikipedia in a huff (his username was TheRegicider) was so he didnt make american apparel look bad. if anyone wants to pwn him, check out his wikipedia activities. i hope gawker will pounce on the connection between ryan holiday, american apparel, and tucker max. i wonder if american apparel knows what ryan is up to and how his buddy tucker is pro rape?
wait, american apparel must be pro rape if their spokesperson is a moderator on an anti-woman website. does american apparel even know their spokesperson condones rape? i dont think this is good for their reputation. someone shouild probably email them
I'm not Scoresman.
TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST
Don't mind all the bigotry and spam, its just ryan holiday following his masters ordnungs.
It's amazing that holiday has time to spam here, what with his world famous, coherent blog, monitoring pr for the rudius media empire, constantly re-editing fuckers wiki entry; whilst also creating various fake reviews on amazon for the book, and on various backwater movie review sites for the upcoming blockbuster movie (which will make more that the Hangover).
Poor little tuckeroo must be missing the fat headed lying douche now he's on his lol-tour.
- does it hurt ryan that hes ditched you as a pr for his 'movie'?
-does it hurt ryan that he hasn't even taken you on his lol-tour? That makes you lower than tando; that is REALLY fucking low.
-does it hurt ryan that he's left you to clean his shit-hovel, guard his chevy malibu, and look after his incontinent dog?
-does it hurt ryan that he deletes your posts on tmmb and publicly insults and humiliates you at the same time?
it's a shame no-one gives a shit about him, or he could be kept on suicide watch, i'm worried about the stink his hanging corpse will make before otto gets back from his awesome road trip.
"If Cockly has another blog, for Christ's sake post the URL, you dipshit."
You might be too stupid, but trolls can figure out how to copy/paste.
"TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST..."
Really? If you say so buddy (just quoting there, can't sue me tucker, lol!)
*he's not really a rapist* just making a joke.
fail troll is fail.
no
u r not
@7:19: the trolls already know about all the blogs in the Hatersphere.
Anyway I've figured out the whole midget thing. Small and unmasculine men like to fantasize about being big and strong and manly. Men like shorter and smaller women because it makes it easier to be protective of them and to physically dominate them during sex. So having sex with a midget is the ultimate expression of this. It's like you're this titanic superman with the ultimate throbbing dickshaft and she's just this little tiny woman and your massive humungous manhood is going to totally ravage her and leave her gasping for more you great big ultramanly stud you.
And that's why Tucker thinks sex with a midget is the natural high point of his life.
I love how all the spammers think they are going to "discredit" this blog once the "national" media comes on here.
There not going to ignore 10,000 post on a site that says tuckerisadouchebag
I'm not Scoresman either
tucker max is a rapist in the sense that he has raped the virtue of art and literature by calling what he does art and literature. i don't think calling him a rapist actually is an accusation of fact, for the act of rape can be metaphorical in nature. if i were to accuse him of literally raping me, this would be libel. but calling him a rapist speaks in generalities rather than actual fact.
he'll probably be handing out lawsuits like swag bags after his movie crashes and burns in the next month.
^^^^^ Ha!
^^^^^^ HA HA!
1. Kennedy
Kennedy! The last brother
Plunges, orca-sleek
To the black sea - elected
To heaven, straight out
Of the Senate. Well:
All glory is a wonder,
All greatness is glorious,
All mighty things are great.
Any passing duke
Commands black cloth -
Whatever we recall
Of the man inside his suit.
And fan and hater agree:
Kennedy is not Kennedy.
Kennedy is the show:
Writer and producer,
Best boy and grip,
Each millionth polyp
Within the great reef,
That armored creature -
The family machine,
Our political design
In perfect Florentine.
Canst thou draw out
Leviathan, with a hook?
Or his tongue, with a line
That thou lettest down?
Think not of Cromwell's end;
Hope not to hang the dead,
Not actor nor his show.
All mighty things are great.
And greatness seldom slain,
And death is no disaster;
Any decent whale-tick
Finds its subsequent whale.
Behemoth lives. Lay thy hand,
Recall the battle, do no more.
II. Cromwell
Beside, amongst the polyps -
Things are not so great.
Your Richard is not your Oliver.
Crudely, the production
Has lost its lead. There
Are no more Kennedys,
There will be none. The work
Of course goes on: each
President now is Kennedy,
As Kennedy that man
With cigarette holder;
And behind him a million
Eager innocent larvae,
All swimming to the stale.
This soap long since found
Its formula. It cannot change.
Nor has it any shortage
Of shark for its remoras.
But - but, the magic?
Alas, progressives, for
You too greatness passes.
Science has not perfected
The permanent Kennedy.
Lucifer gets old and dies;
His ring is hacked in half,
For Abaddon and Dis;
Ground in time to paint
On flocks of gilded imps.
Your future, polyps: gibbering.
Puerile, impotent gibbering,
Infinitely predictable,
Boring as a wooden board.
The magic does not return.
Youth is a one-time thing,
Ages age like men. Deal.
III. Chernenko
So greatness passing,
This Kennedy world,
Safer from all enemy
Than ever before, is losing
Mere colors in its ink.
Think of Brazil! Glory
Of a new forest city,
A capital in pure concrete,
Ordered and progressive,
Both free and free of rats.
What is it now? Slum,
Ruled by ferocious thieves.
I exaggerate. Slightly.
Polyps, your grandfathers
Were kings; your fathers
Spanned the sea; you spin
Soft rock in the cellar
Of a continent. Less fun.
Where are the postcards,
Machine, of that new world
You made of the Third?
What was it meant to be,
And what did it become?
Or at home? Polyps,
Where is Detroit? Is it
Somewhere in your reef?
Could we maybe get it back?
The future was won. Yet
Weirdly, it turned gray,
Emitting serious stench.
Reed begat Chernenko,
Croly produced Pelosi,
Alinsky made Hillary.
The pattern here is sure.
Our dreamers, plumed,
Coached in rich cars
Of past prey, sleep,
Stretched thin by power,
On power's goose bed,
Dream in monochrome
Or not at all. The herd,
Below, shuffles and wilts;
Few but the worst still breed.
Observe our Kennedy world!
Not immortal, but far too near.
Still tomorrow exists,
O gardeners of weeds -
Somehow, where or when.
Its message is as follows:
Thank you for your efforts.
They were nobly conceived,
For the most part honest,
And not without some style.
Today, we film in color.
Our gardens are in order,
Our roses bud, our children
Learn. You need not approve.
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this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
that poem totally sucked
post more kipling
Tucker, please please please post something incredibly stupid on your board or blog for us to rip apart. TIA.
wow this board when to shit really fast.
Pretty sad.
I guess Tucker wins in the end
Hey guys my name is McCoyMountain.
I came here to find out how proud you guys are of me for my postings on IMDB.
We shall prevail!
TUCKER AND HIS VIACOM MINIONS WILL NEVER SUCCEED. EPIC FAIL NO PROFESSIONAL REVIEWS
"@7:19: the trolls already know about all the blogs in the Hatersphere.
Anyway I've figured out the whole midget thing. Small and unmasculine men like to fantasize about being big and strong and manly. Men like shorter and smaller women because it makes it easier to be protective of them and to physically dominate them during sex. So having sex with a midget is the ultimate expression of this. It's like you're this titanic superman with the ultimate throbbing dickshaft and she's just this little tiny woman and your massive humungous manhood is going to totally ravage her and leave her gasping for more you great big ultramanly stud you.
And that's why Tucker thinks sex with a midget is the natural high point of his life."
good point!
"Don't mind all the bigotry and spam, its just ryan holiday following his masters ordnungs.
It's amazing that holiday has time to spam here, what with his world famous, coherent blog, monitoring pr for the rudius media empire, constantly re-editing fuckers wiki entry; whilst also creating various fake reviews on amazon for the book, and on various backwater movie review sites for the upcoming blockbuster movie (which will make more that the Hangover)."
who/what is a ryan holiday??
is it a national holiday?
CN IT B RACIST POASTING TIEM NAOW PLOX
Why do niggers cry during sex?
The Mace.
"TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST"
and a lying douche-choad
""TUCKER MAX IS A RAPIST"
and a lying douche-choad"
Indeed. I would send a picture of him in to 'hot chicks with douche bags', unfortunately I have never seen him in shot with anything resembling a hot babe.
tucker has won. look at this place... right guys? right? oh, he's still a douchebag liar rapist? in that case ,let's talk about ryan holiday's PR job for american apparel and how they might condone rape if they allow him to work for them. banned from wikipedia, banned from the workplace? can we do it, doucebags?
How do you get a nigger out of a tree?
Cut the rope.
Scoresman, got a tattoo
This is Tucker's worst nightmare.
He's no longer the liar, the deceiver, exaggerator, moral skidmark nor insecure douchebag. He's morphed into something new: someone boring. The vultures are all that's left to pick over the carrion on this board, because everyone else has gone home. As it should be.
Let it be written, let it be done.
This is a unique story and totally verifiable as fact. Great catch, McBeefSmoker!
tucker is really intimidating with his homoerotic lisp, wimpy limp wrists and geeky virgin friends. what an alpha male.
More sad college stories from a 30 year old boy child. More lame put-downs to show how witty and fabulous he is. And the tour limps on. Yawn.
What happened to Griffin from Griffinwrites? Finally get some self-esteem and tell dribble-dick and lard-boy to go fcuk themselves?
fuck griffin writes, what's up with Griffin House?
now that boy can play some guitar!
OK, readers of Tucker Max Is A Douchebag, I just read what I wrote below, and it's seriously lengthy. If you're anything like me, and enjoy reading each and every non-troll post, save this one for when you have a 10 or 15 minute slice of your free time. That disclaimer aside, here are my intoxicated ramblings:
You know, I just got up out of bed, I'm fucking ripped right now, and a couple of things occurred to me in my bi-daily pursuit of mocking Tucker Max.
Preface: I hate Tucker Max because he is a liar and a douchebag. I don't hate him at all for drinking copiously, or trying to fuck random sluts or treating said sluts like sluts, (though his underlying misogyny is fairly palpable in that he treats women who are completely innocent of anything like total shit solely because of their gender) or doing some dumb drunken shit, getting away with it, and bragging to friends about it after the fact.
I live in a college town that was ranked by the Princeton Review as the #1 party school in the U.S. within the last three or four years. This year, I think we're sixth. There are 30,000 college students in my city, I'm in my late 20's, and I have no responsibility to anyone or anything other than my job.
30k students means 15k women, and about 2/3 of them are hot enough that you'd want to fuck them. About 1/10, perhaps 15%, are absolutely bangin', and any straight guy would love a night or three in bed with one of those women in that upper echelon, but I digress
As you can imagine given my environs, I live a fairly crazy, extremely drunken life that would be comparable to and earn the respect of anyone who truly parties. Which leads me into what prompted me to post this diatribe in the first place.
I party. I have been partying for 12 years now, since I was 15. I am an actuary for an insurance company, which suits my analytical mind perfectly. Plus it pays really well, all things considered. But despite my professional duties, I still find time to drink and/or consume stimulants and occasionally hallucinogens six or seven days out of the week.
Continued...
Anyway, tonight, I went to my favorite sports bar when I got off of work at 10:30 (in case you're wondering why so late, I had to leave work early yesterday). They had a special on McCormack Tequila for $1 a shot (which very well may be the worst liquor ever... seriously, I think that rubbing alcohol would be more palatable).
I drank 4 shots and had 4 Yuengling Lagers (which is the most fantastic regional domestic beer ever). I left the bar, and met up with some friends, and went to a house party. When I got there, I got some Jack Herer nuggets and a ball of the yip, and my two guy friends and I left with three girls to go get high.
We went back to my place, smoked two blunts of that heady herb, did about 2.5 grams of the llello (which is how yayo is actually spelled in Spanish... You learned something today) and we all kind of naturally paired off with these girls. My boys left, and I and the the girl who stayed here ended up having sex. I have her number and am probably going to get in touch with her tomorrow, because I really like pussy of all sorts. Oh, and in case you were wondering how she looked, I'd say 6.5 or 7/10. Cute, but not stunningly so. Anyway, again, I digress...
I'm sure that many of the denizens of this blog think that Tucker is a douchebag for precisely the same reason as I do; namely, that I find his fiction about partying to be absolutely loathsome, given how there really are those of us who live the life that he pretends to live.
Whenever Tucker lies about his exploits, he cheapens my actual tales of "belligerence and debauchery" that ACTUALLY (caps... Tucker's favorite rhetorical device) did occur, and makes those who are intelligent enough to realize that he's nothing more than a low-rent con-artist doubt anyone's similar recounting of hedonistic excess.
TL;DR: I hate Tucker Max because his transparent lies make those of us who do live on the edge of utter self-destruction seem like lying douchebags through the transitive property of douchebaggery.
Again, contniued...
In my drug-addled state, I just remembered something else that irks me about Tucker to no end. He seems to think that selling 400,000 bathroom books is a major accomplishment worthy of high praise and innumerable accolades. His go-to line is, to paraphrase, "What best-selling book have YOU wrote?"
Well, Otto...
(Speaking of which, Fake Tucker Story guy, you need to get your ass back here and make me laugh my ass off again. You are one funny motherfucker FTSG!)
As I was saying, well, Otto, I wrote this about six years ago, and it was selected as a featured experience report on the largest, most prominent website concerning psychoactive drugs that exists, erowid.org. (Oh, and in case you were wondering, though that Erowid piece is signed 'Mojo' (which was me), I'm not the Mojo guy from IMDB. Though it is one hell of a synchronicity, to be sure.)
Here's a link: http://www.erowid.org/experiences/exp.php?ID=26166
From the bottom of that page:
"Views: 47245"
Forty-Seven Thousand and change. Granted, that's over six years time, but still, that short piece of my writing has had 1/10 as many readers as your bathroom book, Tucker. How does it make you feel that a nobody from nowhere who nobody's ever heard of can have a readership only a single order of magnitude lower than your own? Someone who was writing just to express their thoughts, not for any cogent purpose other than their own amusement, and for posterity's sake.
See, Tucker, the thing is, I was high as fuck on llello, among other things, when I wrote that, as the sun was literally rising into the firmament to inaugurate another day, in those halcyon days of yore, i.e 2003. That's some of my average writing, and it's better than anything that you could ever dream of writing.
Incidentally, the measure of artistic merit is not the size of one's readership, as you so endlessly propound and fervently believe.
Rather, it is timelessness and universailty. When anyone from any culture, at any age can enjoy your writing in their own way for their own reasons, then you have created something that can legitimately be termed a "work of art".
I'm fairly certain that this is a concept that is too esoteric and nuanced for you to truly comprehend, but whatever.
ou know, Tucker, I've been accused, on numerous occassions, of using unnecessarily lengthy and/or complex words to express myself, but unlike you, I know how to use them properly. What brings this to the forefront of my thoughts is that ridiculous spiel in your vanity project of a movie about McGriddles. I'm not going to bother to fire up Adobe reader and take your terrible writing apart, verbatim, line by line as would The Deconstruction Guy, but I recall a line that mentioned "the delectable intricacies" in reference to a decidedly not intricate product.
Learn how to properly express yourself in the English language, Tucker. I'm fairly certain that you've had enough fucking practice.
Oh, and TDG, you're fucking funny as shit. By which I mean completely, totally, and uttery hilarious. That line about Otto being a "...pornographic carnival geek... Pay $5 and watch as Tucker fucks a pre-op trannie, a midget, an amputee, The Bunny... That is absolute comedic gold. I think that was one of yours, but even if not, it's still fucking uproarious and true.
I know that you're probably back in college by now, TDG, but please stick around and keep us entertained with your endlessly clever, always scathing commentary. Also, advice: show your friends Tucker's trailer, and mock it with them. Then you gradually segue into the Opie and Anthony shit, and then into the general asinine ridiculousness that is Otto's entire persona. It's fun. By that I mean, vis-a-vis Tucker speak, "Trust Me.") If your friends are anything like mine, they can't stand "that guy". You know the one I'm talking about. And if Tucker isn't the zenith, the pinnacle, the fucking archetype of "that guy", I don't know who the fuck is.
Another thing just occurred to me... Living around college kids, I get bombarded by what's "cool" among young people, and Tucker Max seemingly isn't these days. Mind you, a few years back I had more than one person try to turn me on to Tucker's bullshit bathroom book, but in the past year or two, I haven't heard anyone spontaneously bring up Tucker Max at all.
Also, before I forget to clarify, the story on Erowid was partially fictional, but with numerous grains of truth embedded throughout.
By the way, do you see how fucking easy that was, Tucker? I admitted that my fiction was fiction, and people still read the shit out of it, because in it's own way, it's a good piece of writing. I conveyed what I was trying to convey to my audience without a lot of extraneous, unnecessary bullshit. That's what a writer of fiction is supposed to do; tell a story about things that never happened and make a salient point, or otherwise make your readership stop and really think, really sit and heavily contemplate what they just read, and then arrive at an understanding of said reading
Oh, and for all of your pretentious pronouncements that you are an artist, (sorry infant AIDS victim) a truly original creative wit who is enriching "the American canon" with your poorly-crafted fabrications, deep down inside, you absolutely hate yourself and wish that you hadn't fucked up in getting your law degree. You want to be exactly what you so vehemently decry, what you unceasingly rail against, and it eats you alive, from the inside out, that because of your poor choices pursuing a legal career is a complete impossibility for you at this point.
I feel for you, even though I shouldn't and I don't know why I do. Watching your law school and U of C peers have happy, fulfilling lives, and loving families of their own and more money than they could ever need must be the ultimate indignity for you. They have what you have always wanted ever since you were a small boy. And you NEVER will have that. EVER.
That really hurts, doesn't it? Cuts right to the quick, knowing what I do of your personality.
Fleeting sympathy aside, you do indeed deserve every single ounce of derision that is cast at you. Because despite numerous opportunities to succeed, you have failed at every turn. Because the way that you allegedly treat women (or would apparently like to treat women) is utterly reprehensible. To pose an analogy, you make achieving success at a given endeavor look like landing a 100 foot long jump.
Tucker you are a douchebag, as well as being a compulsive liar. That's why I'm here at pert near 6:00 A.M., with coke in my blood and brain, a plastic Solo cup of Milwaukee's Best Ice in my hand, and a bowl of nuggets between my lips.
I am here because when I question my life, my habits, my hobbies, my moral compass, the goodness or lack thereof of the very essence of my existence, or any other of those deeply personal and spiritual/metaphysical issues, I think of you, and I feel better about myself, because given the chance, you would almost certainly trade my life, in all of its mundane glory, for yours. And you know that that is 100% true.
You know better than anyone that this bus tour is your last hurrah, so enjoy it while it lasts.
To wit:
I'm pushing 30, which makes sleeping with the hotter (8/9) college-aged girls somewhat challenging. You're pushing 40, and believe it or not, when you're five or at the most ten years older, it ain't going to happen, internet celebrity or not.
Your fifteen minutes are rapidly running their course, Tucker Max. And on on that note (since I just did my last line) I'm out.
Peace, niggas.
"I hate Tucker Max because he is a liar and a douchebag"
indeed YG (yayo guy), indeed.
good posts
@3:05-3:10
Quit posting.
yez plz
tl,nf,dr
Tucker is indeed revolutionizing entertainment: he's created anti-buzz. Even the people who were talking about him (us) have stopped.
Or maybe you just gave up because you knew you can't win?
Against stupidity, the gods themselves contend in vain
Why are chimps always frowning?
They know in a million years they are going to turn into niggers.
"Or maybe you just gave up because you knew you can't win?"
Brosef,
the critics have already won without even having to lift a finger; the sordid, belly-crawling wannabe entity known as tugger tibor max is breathing its last breath in the shape of this 'tour' (haha)
sit back and enjoy the death march!
I liked YG's post.
lulz to That Nigger Guy
Scoresman, got a tattoo.
That's of course why there's all of 10 new posts on the last premier thread.
Look out...
The Youtube trailer is also peaking in hits, it's slowed down. Traffic ridiculously slow @Tucker Max on twitter.
No one cares. It's that simple.
"Scoresman, got a tattoo."
tramp stamp?
i think scoresman is ronnie the limo driver
I'm still not Scoresman
Why do niggers stink?
So blind people can hate them too.
Yeah no one cares. That's why the "Sex Ray" has 65,000 hits after just 2 days on StumbledUpon
"Anything 'The Hangover' can do at the Box Office we can beat. Easily." -- Tucker Max, June 2009
"The Hangover" box office as of 08/30/09.. Domestic: $270,348,000 / Foreign: $149,200,000 = Worldwide: $419,548,000
P.S.
"We don't care about foreign distribution, so we gave that away. American comedies do not translate overseas." -- Tucker Max, June 2009
(Foreign: $149,200,000 so far and climbing fast)
"Yeah no one cares. That's why the "Sex Ray" has 65,000 hits after just 2 days on StumbledUpon"
Yeah. The viral nature of a clip called "SEX RAY" that shows x-rayed blowjobs translates to people buying tickets for a movie.
Do you think the 65,000 people who saw this said:
"wow, this is awesome. Now I must go see beer in hell because it has nothing to do with these clips at all so put me down for two tickets because the xray porn convinced me that I should see something unrelated to what I'm watching"
But I guess you're right. Because, well.. um, whatever.
I heard all 130 theaters are already sold out because the great online buzz inspired people from all demographics to buy tickets.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
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this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
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this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
this is a repeat story and totally made up. nice try, Mcbeefsmoker.
Why do jews have big noses?
Air is free.
It's tough to know that there exists a kind of person who would use the short and miraculous time that they are alive to post stuff like that ^^^^^
Strange species.
I want to spend my alive time laughing at TDG's posts...
Great read by YG. Well written and very articulate and most importantly - right on the nail.
"Yeah no one cares. That's why the "Sex Ray" has 65,000 hits after just 2 days on StumbledUpon"
There's a girl on youtube with 15 million hits for shaking her ass...that has not translated into her being a millionaire or anything at all actually.
But Tucker made a revolutionary film!! It's groundbreaking!
You just don't get it.
You are all fat and ugly and can't get any sex.
How does a black woman fight crime?
She has an abortion.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si isht.
"isht"
reverse typo FAIL
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt enic. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
A 60-year-old couple, a 40-year-old couple, and a 20-year-old couple wanted to join a particular church. The pastor explained to them each that as part of the church's beliefs, they had to abstain from sex for six weeks as a sign of their devotion to God before being admitted to the church. Each couple agreed. Six weeks later, the pastor visited each couple in turn and asked how it had gone and if they'd held to the commitment.
When he visited the 60-year-old couple, the husband answered: "Oh yeah, it was no problem at all." "You're welcome in our church," replied the pastor.
When he visited the 40-year-old couple, the husband answered: "Well, for the first couple of weeks it was fine, but then we had to start sleeping in separate beds. But, we made it." "You're welcome in our church," replied the pastor.
When he visited the 20-year-old couple, the husband answered: "Well, we thought we were doing ok, but in the middle of the third week I was standing behind my wife as she stood on her toes to reach for a can on a high shelf and I just couldn't take it, I had her, right then and there."
"Well, I'm afraid you're not welcome in our church," replied the pastor.
"That's ok," said the husband, "We're not welcome in the grocery store anymore either!"
Another typo:
"enic" = ecin
What this place really needs is a verifiable (POST TITS) pretty girl to wander by and say "Omigod you guys are SOOO STUPID".
This comes courtesy of pmcdonnell-4 at the IMDB board, simply because it's so hilariously apt:
My favorite part about all this is that Tucker Max never is quite sure what it is he's trying to be.
A few months ago, it's I am a brilliant film mogul that sold this great movie to a major that will be the next great comedy. I'm just waiting a bit before I can tell you who are distributor is. But we are going to beat The Hangover at the box office.
Then, it is I am a misunderstood artist that is rebelling and going my own way in such a way that it will revolutionize Hollywood. We are distributing it ourselves. Its risky, but I'm the type to bet on myself.
Now, its the circus geek tour. I am going to travel around by bus and have sex with my crazy fans and drink with my brahs.
Oh, and now I am a martyr against radical feminists who dare want to say that I promote a rape culture.
Oh, and check out the x-ray porn movie me and my buddy made last night.
He is a walking breathing Aristocrats Joke driving a train wreck. If you are Darko or an investor, How do you not cringe every time this guy approaches a keyboard.
What do you get when you have all the self destructiveness of Joe Francis with none of the money or marketing ability? Tucker Max.
Box office predictions:
1.) Tucker wont be able to find 25 million with a map, compass, GPS, divining rod, a fucking Sherpa guide, and Divine Intervention-forget even being on the same continent as "The Hangover", prepare to join "Road House" and the Stallone arm wrestling epic "Over the Top" in the 3 dollar bin at your local Wal-Mart in the next 5 months. Or maybe the DVD case will just be used by idiot frat assholes as a flat surface to roll a fatty on.
2.) "Gigli" and "Glitter" will look like box office blockbusters compared to Tucker's fucking travesty of Western Film, and Im pretty sure that jerking off with heavy grain sandpaper is more entertaining than watching either of those two piles of dog shit-oh and by the way, the two above mentioned eye sores BOTH had major distribution(Columbia and FOX), and IHTSBIH does not...wow
Anyone else notice that now that people have read this script, its no longer "Anything The Hangover can do, we can beat easily" its "We arent in this for the money, we want to advance film as an art form, free the creative process and really stick it to the proverbial 'Man' (PS I am still wicked awesome because Im single handedly going to reverse the social order and lead a cultural revolution, riiiight after I get this hamster out of my ass)". In America, thats known as a fucking cop out, and people who actually pull that kind of shit in the real world, get fired. Really Tuck, if your so interested in self fellatiation (yes I made that word up, if Bush can do it so can I), Im sure there is some med school reject surgeon who can remove a few of your ribs for you to help make that happen (or you could have Bunny do it-might help her self esteem a bit, look what a simple blowjob did for Lewinsky), and for the love of all things holy, spare the world from the undeniable shame that this garbage film will cause.
^^^ Do you have a link for these?
links for those movies? no i dont they are older, Glitter made 5.2 mil and Gigli just over 6 (yeah I had to look that up)
DO NOT mention Itsby in the same breath as Road House.
Thou Shalt Not Disrespect the Road House.
itsby bitsby boo
^^^^^^Tits or GTFO
Every time that somebody posts something that "seems" true (i.e. it passes the smell test---that in your gut you just know that they aren't "just a hater"), it is amazing how the pro-tucker trolls emerge & start throwing shit up just to deflect from the veracity & potential fallout of the post.
Case & point: Tucker having been accused, at least once, of rape/sexual assault, despite his recent assertions on his IHTSBIH blog that he had never been.
Since the "The Bunny story + rape accusation are both true" post went up, the trolls/deflectors have been in overdrive, putting up about 80% of the posts in the past 48-72 hours. They've followed this recipe many times before: bad news about Tucker = flame/troll/besiege the TMIADB site with LOTS of volume so as to minimize the potential influence of the damaging news/post.
To probably the casual observer, it may very well work. If I were coming here without prior knowledge, I doubt I would wade thru the volume of crap that has come down the pipe in the last couple of weeks.
However, no matter what else happens, nothing can change the fact that in addition to being a proven liar, Tucker Max is indeed a raging douchebag.
^^^Agree. Good post.
Yayo Guy says good post 10:34... And to those of you who get down, isn't the day after fucking purgatory? Fuck, I've got to quit doing this shit.
hey coked up guy (CUG), i, too, am in a similar situation to you. I am getting to the older part of my 20s, still in the college environment (grad school), and i live in one of those big cities that is known for its beaches. women everywhere. since i moved here this summer, i have railed 8 new girls. some smoking hot, some i'd hide from my friends... point is, i am living the life that tucker never lived. i know how this game works, and i can detect bullshit from a mile away. tucker max is a fucking douchebag liar because he is faking what could be real if he wasn't a fucking pathetic loser.
Incidentally, here is some X-Ray Porn from March 2008.
http://josephbrett.wordpress.com/2008/02/28/x-ray-love/
"Yayo Guy says good post 10:34... And to those of you who get down, isn't the day after fucking purgatory? Fuck, I've got to quit doing this shit."
It gets harder as you get older, takes a bigger strain on your body etc. Wise people take it easy after 30.
Probably why tugger doesn't claim to take anything apart from booze, his pudgy little 37 yr old body can't hack it (although i wouldn't be surprised if he was addicted to prescription pain killers a la rush limbaugh).
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
if ur gonna post crap y not post porn
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
Rekomsfeebcm, yrt ecin. Pu edam yllatot dna yrots taeper a si siht.
When I was a senior in college I was quarterback on the college football team, but what I was most interested in was my English teacher, Mrs. Miller (not her real name), who I spent many nights dreaming about. As well as teaching English, she also happened to be the wife of the college president. At forty, she was some kind of sexy woman, usually coming to class in a two-piece business suit, with a skirt that ended halfway between her knees and her crotch. Beneath it she always wore white silk panties, and every so often I would get a glimpse of them under her desk as I sat in the front row. She was six feet tall, about a hundred and thirty pounds. She had long black hair, 36D breasts and the most beautiful legs I had ever seen. I was no slouch myself, being blond, six feet four and all muscle, and being a football star I could just about have my choice of the college girls. But I could not get over Mrs. Miller. In class the words she said were a blur to me, but looking at her I would have a hard time covering up my hard-on.
As a result of this, my grades suffered. Usually I averaged at least a C in most of my classes, but in English I was getting Ds and even worse. This quickly became a concern, because if I did not keep my grades up to at least a C average, I would not be eligible to play on the team any more.
Since I had taken over as quarterback the team had not lost a game, and we were hoping to get to the state championships. Thus the whole college was worried that I might be disqualified because of my English grades. The football coach spoke to me about it, and he also must have spoken to Mr. Miller, the college president. Winning the state championship was something they wanted more than anything, and it soon became evident that Mr. Miller, at least, was willing to do whatever it took to accomplish that.
One Monday morning Mr. Miller walked into my English class just as his wife was finishing up. When she dismissed the class, Mrs. Miller asked me to stay behind, saying that her husband would like to talk to me.
When the other students had left, Mr. Miller cleared his throat. "John," he began, "you know that we need you to continue to quarterback our team if we have any hope to take the state championship this year. The coach feels that we have a good chance if you stay on as quarterback, but you know that if you do not get your English grades up the Conference will disqualify you from playing." He paused. "With that in mind," he went on, "I have asked Mrs. Miller if she thought some private tutoring might help to bring your grades back up. Mrs. Miller has told me that she believes she knows what the problem is, and that she can help you with it if you are willing to make the effort. Would you be willing to have Mrs. Miller tutor you four or five nights a week during the rest of the season?"
"Yes, sir," I said. "I will be glad to do that, and I'll try as hard as I can to do better. After all, I want to win the state championships as much as anybody in the school."
"Thank you, John," Mr. Miller said. "I know you will try your best, and I'm sure you will succeed. Susan, I'll leave everything to you two." And with that he went out.
Mrs. Miller shut the door behind him, then locked it and pulled down the shade. She then came to stand in front of me as I sat in my chair. "Now, John," she said, "the first thing we have to do is to clear the air between us. All year I have watched you trying to look up my skirt whenever you could, to see my panties. I have let you get a glimpse of them every so often, just to keep you happy, and I will admit it made me feel good to see how I could turn on the big football stud. Yes, I saw you trying to cover up the hard-ons I gave you." I was too embarrassed to say anything, but I was also getting turned on, wondering where this was going. "But, John," she went on, "this game-playing has caused both of us to forget why you are in my class in the first place. You have stopped concentrating on your studies, and I partially blame myself for letting this game go on so long. But for the next four weeks we will stop playing games. I know you are capable of doing better work. I also know that sometimes it is much easier to accomplish something if you have a goal to shoot for--just like in football. Your goal should be winning the championship for us, but now I'm going to give you an additional one. John, if you bring your grades up to a B, which I know you can do, and if the team gets to the championships, this will be your trophy from me."
And with that she pulled up her short skirt, hiking it high enough so that I was looking at the most beautiful bush I had ever seen. There, between two wonderfully shapely thighs, was a very large patch of shiny black hair as big as my hand. And it was only about twelve inches from my face.
The trollers are hilarious. It's hilarious that they are this concerned about negative information on the movie.
Again, we're not going to stop. Keep it coming.
How 'bout that awesome IHTSBIH app for the iPhone?
1
"The trollers are hilarious. It's hilarious that they are this concerned about negative information on the movie."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The Trolls are just more proof that Tucker's fans are racist morons. They certainly aren't helping prove that the movie is art (sorry, baby) or that he is a "leader of men." His case against Cockly--that Cockly was just a sad, obsessed former fan--had a lot more validity before the aggressive trolling began.
I didn't think it possible, but Ben Corman may be a bigger douche than either Tucker or Ryan Holiday:
"And then there's a third type. The ones who ask about the art. The ones who understand that the hookups and the parties and the fame are a consequence of making something truly great.
A few times on the tour I've seen someone with that hunger. The type that wants to change the world with something they've created. They want to follow Tucker not because they are looking for the party but because they understand that something is being built here. And if it works, it'll be unlike anything built before it. They understand that it's not about the spoils, it's about the act of creation.
I like that hunger. I relate to that hunger. It's that hunger that brought me on this tour, that I think brought all of the crew on this tour. There isn't one of us that wants to do this as a career. We're not professional gophers. I think that all of us see this as a step to something bigger, as a door that opens opportunities that we don't even know are out there.
Charlie Hoehn said something really smart on his site. That he was getting paid to receive a film school-level education in less than six weeks. And I think that's why it's going so well. It's not about doing a job. It's about doing a job better and faster than the other guy who could be here. It's about knowing that this is a chance to prove ourselves so that later we may reap the rewards. Because as cool as it may be to be here, and for all the love that gets heaped on us for being on tour, none of us wants this to be the high water mark in our careers. None of us sees this as the goal. It's just another step on the way to where ever we happen to be headed. I don't think any of us want to exist in Tucker's orbit forever. We're arrogant enough to want to be the center of gravity in our own universes."
These idiots are taking themselves WAY too seriously.
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