What if I could show you someone who got his B.A. in economics from the University of Chicago and a J.D. from Duke, and spends his days drinking, having sex, writing about it and getting paid quite well to do so?
Meet Tucker Max.
His Web site proclaims "My name is Tucker Max, and I am an asshole. I get excessively drunk at inappropriate times, disregard social norms, indulge every whim, ignore the consequences of my actions, mock idiots and posers, sleep with more women than is safe or reasonable and just generally act like a raging dickhead. But, I do contribute to humanity in one very important way. I share my adventures with the world. They are known as the Tucker Max Stories."
The idea that someone could actually make a living by living a life that resembles a 24/7 bachelor party seems quite farfetched. So would you believe he not only makes a living through his Web site, but is also now a published author?
I know. Something doesn't quite add up here. But don't take my word for it; see for yourself. On Feb. 1, from 3-5 p.m., Max is having a book signing for his latest work, I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell, right here on Penn's campus.
The book marks no departure from his typical debaucherous ways; it is merely a collection of his stories. But with titles like "The Absinthe Donuts Story," it's hard to resist taking just a quick look. And it's even harder to stop reading.
"I read [the anal sex story] ... and then I didn't go to class for a few days. ... Then I sent it to a couple of friends ... and they did the same thing I did: spent a day reading all the stories," said College freshman Alex Shoemaker, creator of the "Tucker Max for President" Facebook group.
Your first impulse is probably to judge his behavior, wondering how anyone could ever be so dumb as to waste an education like his.
After all, we're Penn students. Our idea of success involves commanding a business empire from a fancy corner office on Wall Street, a salary in the high six figures and a Fifth Avenue penthouse apartment.
We work hard in class and pack our resumes with extracurriculars so we can get hired for prestigious summer internships, which will, at the end of four years, hopefully guarantee us this fantasy lifestyle.
Except for the Wharton kids. They basically walk onto Wall Street and are promoted to CEO within a week. And we can also discount the anthropology students; they're going to be living in their parents' basements for eternity. At least, that's what I've heard.
We're going into debt (and incurring a lifetime of guilt from our families for their debt) so we can get those paychecks and penthouses. We're not stupid; we plan on putting our Penn degrees to good use, which obviously extends a little further than a Web site, constant partying and Internet fame.
But after five minutes perusing his Web site, I think you'll see that Tucker Max is anything but stupid.
Although he did manage to pass his Tax Law final without ever having gone to class, Max's most impressive accomplishment is his career itself. He has the business empire we all dream of; his just consists of a Web site and other media projects instead of Fortune 500 companies.
"His admitted job is to go get drunk and write about it, then have his advertisers pay for it," Shoemaker said. "That's pretty impressive, that he found a loophole around the normal idea of what people would call 'work.'"
We say we can do whatever we want; he actually did it.
After judging his career choice, it is also a natural impulse to be offended by his behavior. After all, promiscuity and alcoholism are things we've been trained to look down on.
But no matter how dispicable a human being you may find him, maybe there are lessons even the most staunch conservatives can take from Tucker Max.
He lives his life for his own personal fulfillment, and makes no apologies for who he is: "I do not write fiction, and I do not make anything up. Good or bad, this is my life."
After all, "it's ... the fact that everything is autobiographical that makes it entertaining," College freshman Adam Jones said.
Maybe Tucker Max can show us that we should find paths in life that make us happy and make no apologies for who we choose to become.
And yeah, maybe this means we should stop mocking the anthropology majors and even lighten up on the Wharton crowd. We are all smart enough to find success after graduation, and how we do so is of no concern to anyone else.
Liz Hoffman is a sophomore political science major from New York, N.Y. New York Minute appears on Mondays.
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