Kihn - Asshole : How I Got Rich & Happy By Not Giving a Damn About Anyone & How You Can, Too

A$$HOLE

ALSO BY MARTIN KIHN

House of Lies

A$$HOLE

How I Got Rich and Happy

By Not Giving a Damn About Anyone,

And How You Can Too!

Copyright 2008 by Martin Kihn

All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by mimeograph or any other means, without permission. For information, address Writers House LLC at 21 West 26th Street, New York, NY 10010.

ISBN 978-0-7867-5374-1

Distributed by Argo Navis Author Services

For my parents,
who did not raise an asshole;
and for my wife,
who had to live with one.

A$$hole is based on an experiment I conducted on my real life. In order to protect unwitting co-workers, innocent family members, and others, I have made a number of changes to what really happened. I have altered most names and physical characteristics, created composite characters and combined events, and reimagined some scenes to make them funnier.

If that makes me an asshole, then thank you.

A$$HOLE

I was the nicest guy in the worldand it was killing me.

This is not just chin music. If youd asked anyone who knew me thenbefore my glorious rebirth as an Assholewho was the nicest guy in the world, youd get one of two answers. Either theyd say my name immediately, or theyd say some other name, then go, Oh, wait, I forgot about Martyhes the nicest guy in the world.

My life was a dictionary without the word no. Years passed in elaborate acrobatic contortions getting out of everybodys way.

Except my own.

Heres the kind of guy that I was: If you asked me to do you a favoreven the kind of favor that required me to go so far out of my way I needed a map, a translator, and an oxygen tank, even if I didnt know you that well, I might hesitate a second, hoping youd think of someone else to irritate. But Id always say Yes!

Thats not true. If I really didnt want to do it, Id say something different. Something like You bet!

I seemed to spend my whole life giving money to anyone who asked (even rich people, like the Metropolitan Opera), doing websites for free, walking other peoples dogs, bringing back to the office complicated lunch orders of some cuisine I dont even like (say, Chinese), and then, upon learning the place had messed up one of the orders, going back out to get the right thing.

I was a telemarketers dream. The kind of guy who agreed to buy not only the Identity Theft Solution, but also the high-rate home equity loan, just to get you off the phone.

I was a man who always backed down in a fightwho didnt even get into the fight in the first place, because to have a fight assumes you have a point of view. A man whod managed to turn an almost embarrassingly rich portfolio of advantages earlier in life into a crappy apartment in the middle of a barrio; a net worth more negative than my philosophy; a pet who laughed at my commands; and a job where I was about to become the guy who didnt get promoted because he lacked the eye of the tiger, the mojo, or even the desire to be in that stupid job in the first place.

Oh, and I was about to turn forty.

But believe it or not, this is a tale of hope and redemption. This is my story of glory.

It begins on that birthday, a day not much worse than my usual at that time, and no better. I was myself; I was nice. Nothing special. That morning, something in me snapped.

I made a decision to take a stand against my weaknesses and fears and actively question my philosophy of life. Its better to give than receive? Then take this!

Why cant we all just get along? Because we cant.

Its nice to be important, but its more important to be nice. On what planet?

I made the radical decision to whittle and chop and burn away the defects that would toss me into an early gravedefects like consideration, politeness, giving a fuck what you thinkto blowtorch away my old personality and uncover the rock-hard warrior (and abs) within. I would learn from the masters, the legendary bastards and bitches who had walked before me, like Donald Trump, Scarface, and that guy in my building with the tattoo on his face. Id study the works of the great fuck-you philosophers from Nietzsche to Dogbert. Id do the things assholes do like kickboxing, attending NRA conventions, driving fast on the shoulder of the road, using the speakerphone for long meetings, screaming at co-workers for no reason, blaming the waiter for things the chef did, returning items with no receipt not because I dont have the receipt but because I cant be bothered to look for it, asking people I barely know for favors, cutting in line, eating garlic bagels on the subway, complaining, complaining, complaining.

There would be me and my needs. And then there would be me and my needs. Any questions?

Id had it. America is not a country for the nice. Not anymore, if it ever was. No, America is a country for the prick. The bullshit artist and his coterie. The screaming diva. My intention was not to become a sadist; I didnt have it in me. My intention was simply to do what it takes to win, babyeven if what it takes is to turn one hundred eighty pounds of puff pastry into a Grade A bag of dicks with an expense account.

So I set out on a program of self-realization, learning how to remake myself into an Asshole. It was a voyage of many months and thousands of dollars, and it succeeded beyond my wildest dreams, as you will see. I lay it out here step by step so that you, too, can follow in my path.

Having taken this journey before you, I can honestly say that its worth it. You may never be as rich and good-looking as I am, but dont let that discourage you. Even I could be richer and better looking, although that would be cruel.

So how, you ask, can you put this program to work in your life?

Heres how: Put it to work! Get out there. Make that big world your bitch. Whatever you decide to do, it is most important that you do something.

Because the alternative is to keep doing what youre doing and keep getting what youve got.

Believe me, that is definitely not what your spouse wants.

I was about to jump into a program that could be life-threatening, and I wondered if I really wanted to have no rules. Would I suddenly inhabit a world where, say, shop-lifting was fine as long as I didnt get caught? Where I could dine n dash and dance naked in the streets just becausewell, just because I wanted to? Did not that way lie chaos, confusion, and those baggy orange jumpsuits?

I decided: Yes. I would need some rulesthe bare minimum necessary to keep me sane yet provide total freedom to become an Asshole.

After some deliberation, these were the ones I settled on:

1.Any felonyincluding murder, rape, arson, arms trafficking, and traitorous thoughts

2.Substance useillegal and, at my age, kind of sad