Written by Ye Olde Scribe
This is NOT going to be a “nice” review. Best not let the kiddies read this one. But, hey, Scribe is just reporting the truth about “Mr.” Tucker, who dared to climb up the ladder of fame, in part, by using beer to promote himself.
News blurb…
Tucker Max hates living in Los Angeles and is considering moving back to Chicago — the city he believes has the best bar scene — but the “I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell” blogger/author/filmmaker is tied to Hollywood at the moment.
The movie, based on Max’s best-selling book of the same title, came out Friday. This means there is still a press tour to finish and appearances to make. And because the University of Chicago graduate produced the bachelor party movie and co-wrote it with friend Nils Parker, there are still business decisions to be made.
They made a movie out of this a-hole’s book? Scribe read this a while ago, and has no sympathy for a rich, spoiled jackass who gets his kicks out of defecating all over hallways in hotels, convincing women to have sex with him and then doing everything he can to humiliate them, and as a lawyer (almost); getting very drunk at a party and then screaming insults at his employer.
The way he treats women? Well, he wanted to do a “fat girl” because he never had. After, she wanted to meet his friends. He refused. She asked if she could “at least pee” before she left so he threw all her clothes out into the courtyard. And he made another woman do a sexual act while he was on the toilet doing… well, you know.
Actual quote: (to a dealer at a casino) “I swear on my grandmother’s dried up decomposing corpse, if you draw a five card 21, I’ll punt your tits across the floor.”
This is how Max treats people as a rule, He thinks it’s “funny.”
And how does he get away with all this? Because he is a spoiled rotten rich kid with lots of connections. And he lives his life jacked up on liquor, sex, drugs and more than anything else: beer. Usually the kind of swill that we had before micros and brewpubs started educating the tastes of America. The kind of beer that looks like the contents of a full, un-flushed urinal.
Mr. Tucker has far less value to society than the beer he pisses out on a daily basis. He gives beer a bad name. Dogs who get euthanized deserve more sympathy. Perhaps he could do us all a favor and take one’s place?