T hough technically a memoir, this is more a compendium of hair-whitening bar stories that punch you in the throat until your eyes explode. Many people have watched their friends die and some have been to jail. There are those who have stepped in the ring with professional fighters and been beaten within an inch of their lives. Others have created media empires. Very few have done all this and embarrassed dozens of celebrities; enjoyed more than a couple of threesomes; brought the world Warhols Children; consistently attracted a million views with viral comedy videos; said, Jesus is gay, on national television; and made two American Indians from scratch.
There certainly isnt anyone with this kind of life experience who can convey each tale in such a hilarious and endearing way. Whether hes watching his friend get decapitated on acid or snorting cocaine off womens breasts, McInnes only ever has one priority: maximum laughs. Hes not here to tell you how wise his father is or how hard it was to achieve his success. Hes here to make you laugh so hard, you puke. Thats it.
You will not find a memoir like this anywhere. Usually when people are this insane, they cant form coherent sentences, but Gavin brilliantly weaves his bizarre outlook on life in a way that makes it somehow feel relatable. I love this book.
JUSTIN HALPERN, author of Sh*t My Dad Says
I laughed so hard I got a headache.
JUSTIN THEROUX, author of Tropic Thunder and Iron Man 2
I loved this book, though it may have given my eyeballs gonorrhea.
SAMANTHA BEE, author of I Know I Am, but What Are You?
Wonderfully powerful, funny, and full of life, this book is amazing and a pleasure to explore. I cried while reading the 9/11 chapter.
ANDREW W.K., author of Party Hard
An interesting, infuriating read. You will never love this book harder than it already loves you.
PATTON OSWALT, author of Zombie Spaceship Wasteland
My idea of heaven is standing at a bar (made of clouds) and telling the most hilarious story of all time as all my dead friends burst into paroxysms of laughter. This is no small beans. Theres nothing more human than storytelling. What do you think separates us from all those other, loser species? Genes? Wrong. Its memes. While monkeys hysterically yell oooh ooh ahh ah in vain and dolphins squeak out those irrelevant little eeks, we walk over to our fellow caveman and say, Stay the hell away from saber-toothed tigers. I just saw them eat a guy. And then we tell him a story about it that makes him shit his fur shorts. Storytelling has kept us way ahead of the pack for at least the past forty thousand years, and in a world where theres probably been more published in the past few months than in all previous months combined, weve only just begun.
GAVIN McINNES, author of this
This book sucks.
TUCKER MAX, author of I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell
Described as the godfather of hipsterdom and one of hipsterdoms primary architects, GAVIN MCINNES is more than just a rude lunatic who keeps getting beat up. He is an icon who personifies irreverence for an entire generation. Hes played in punk bands, done stand-up, and acted in movies and television, but hes a writer by trade and cofounded Vice magazine in 1994 before growing it into a multimedia empire that still dominates youth culture today.
McInnes is the author of The Vice Guide to Sex and Drugs and Rock and Roll; DOs & DONTs; DOs & DONTs 2; and Street Boners, which is based on his website StreetCarnage.com. He writes for television, creates funny commercials with his production company Rooster New York, and is a regular wild card on Fox Newss late-night show Red Eye . He lives in New York with his wife and two kids.
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Also by Gavin McInnes
Street Boners: 1,764 Hipster Fashion Jokes
Dos and Donts: 10 Years of Vice Magazines Street Fashion Critiques
The Vice Guide to Sex and Drugs and Rock and Roll
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Contents
HOW TO PISS
IN PUBLIC
Where No Man Has Gone Before (1984)
M y girlfriend has no vagina, said the voice behind me. I was fixing my shitty Mohawk in the reflective windows by the principals office and turned around. It was my friend Lawrence McCallister, a big-nosed geek covered in zits who always had some kind of catastrophe on his hands.
How can she have no vagina? I asked, continuing to preen.
I know, I know, he responded, but trust me. Im positive.
I consoled him with a pat on his shoulder and said, That sucks, man, but I was secretly thrilled. I thought I was the only one in school who had felt around down there and got nothing. I was worried it was some kind of Sword in the Stone thing where if you dont feel an opening, it means youre gay.
I went to the Earl of March High School in a rural Canadian suburb called Kanata. In 1984, I was a punk fourteen-year-old and knew as much about sex as you know about the early eighties Kanata punk scene. This was before the Internet but after Playboy, so everything we understood about naked ladies came from Hustler, an almost medical porn mag that always featured women with their slutty high heels up by their slutty ears and their pink pussies splayed wide open. They held their legs up so high and so spread, a generation of young men grew up assuming the vagina was a bazooka-sized hole located right below the belly button.
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