Act I, Scene 1

It took a characteristically douchey message board post from one of my most loathed Internet personalities to get me back into the writing game.

The man in question: Tucker Max. Perhaps you've heard of him? He's a New York Times bestselling author, a possible pathological liar, and an all-around cocky fuckbag.

I hate him. His writing is shit (sometimes literally). His frat boy persona is beyond grating. Even his name is annoying.

Reading his website makes my blood boil hotter than the piss of a thousand gonorrhea-infected suns.

But a couple of days ago, I stumbled across this two-year-old e-mail conversation between him and Points in Case staff writer Nathan Degraaf.

If you want to wade through the whole pissing match, be my guest.  For those who don't, here's the quote that got to me:

"I am not saying that you can't do it. But until you DO it, everything else is bullshit. Stop talking about it, stop "playing," stop waiting for whatever it is you are waiting for. If you can climb this mountain and sit on top with me and Maddox and few other internet writers who matter, then get up here. There is always more room for talent than there are talented to occupy it."

Tucker, you motherfucker.  You actually made me think.

He's right.  All the talent in the world means nothing if you don't have shit to show for it.

So this is it.  This is my shit, and I'm showing it to you.  I hope you enjoy.

I still hate you, Tucker.  But thanks.