Pussy-smashing brew-guzzler and occasional blogger Tucker Max is hard at work on the Shreveport, Louisiana set of his comedic masterpiece film debut I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell. The ideal situation would obviously be for Tucker to produce, direct, star in, and cater the movie himself, but due to demands on his valuable time he's forced to take on lesser mortals as his assistants. One of whom, surprisingly, has now quit in disgust and forwarded along his story to us! After the jump, the sad tale of woe, abuse, and poop. But Tucker has a warning for you haters: "I didn't get where I am today by being a moron.": The young man was a Tucker fan, and quit a real job to go be a paid assistant on the set of Tucker's film, where we pick up his experiences:

I quit my stable job at a publishing house and moved out there. He said I could stay at his house, but when I arrived he made me sleep in the backyard the first night. Tucker had other assistants but I detected animosity right from the start. One guy continually tried to commit assault on me. I figured because of my lesser stature it was all part of the "breaking in" process. Well, 5 days into production, I'm being threatened with crossbows and berated at every turn. Tucker has me doing ridiculous tasks like getting him water at a perfect temperature. The first few times he'd say it was 10 degrees too hot. I knew he was joking, but I'd take it back and add some of the cold water (which I realize is poposterous, but if you'd seen this guy he'd sic on me with choke holds or really hard arm punches, you'd understand). Finally on day 8, I bring him a paper cup filled with water; he takes a sip and throws it right in my face. I practically fell over a chair. This was in front of Jesse Bradford who even cautioned Tucker that it was a little too far. Tucker told Jesse to shut up, and then Nils (the "other" Tucker) intervened. After two weeks of constant abuse, including Tucker letting me use the bathroom in his house, which had his shit in the toilet that he didn't flush. I quit on the spot. Nils first tried to comfort me by saying that Tucker is a jerk, and that it wasn't worth quitting over. I said I understood until HE confides that it was him that left the gigantic log in the toilet for me. I understand that guys like to laugh and joke and get along. I do the same thing with my friends. On the IHTSBIH set, however, it was a very different story. These people weren't funny. They were "fratastic" in that douchebag sense. On my last day on set I talked to Matt Czuchry, who I got to know rather well. He told me that the Hollywood business was cut throat, and that he'd had his share of lumps. He said everyday he was losing respect for Tucker and that he worried this role my be career ending because the character doesn't have any redeeming qualities. Actually, he said the character Tucker as it was written might appear to, but after studying Tucker himself, he realized the guy was a fucking prick. You'll notice there are no party picks of Tucker and the actors after the first week or so. This is not a coincidence. I've never been so incensed with an individual. Perhaps I was asking for it, chasing a pipe dream with no regard, but nobody should have to deal with what I did. I haven't even scratched the surface... I'm done with the fucking asshole for good. I've found a new job, similar to what I'm doing before, but I don't' think I'll ever forget the sheer humiliation I faced.

After quitting, the assistant sent Tucker a pretty polite email asking for his check, and wondering if Tucker would be putting up any photos of him in the film's Flickr page. The response:

From: Tucker Max Date: Mon, Aug 11, 2008 at 10:19 PM To: [Former assistant] It's not MY fault you couldn't hack it. Don't come crawling back AND don't waste my time with bullshit promises if you wont back them up. You know something about photos? The person who takes them — or the person who employs the person who takes them — owns the copyright. I OWN THEM. You want them? Pay me. You want your money? Jeff has it. Get it from him. I warn you, he's been in an extra bad mood lately.— "...highly entertaining and thoroughly reprehensible..." -NY Times describing TuckerMax.com

He asked for his check to be mailed to him, and said that he just wanted the photos to show his friends. Tucker wasn't fooled:

From: Tucker Max Date: Thurs, Aug 14, 2008 at 5:20 PM To: [Former assistant] You want the photos so you can cry to Gawker. I didn't get where I am today by being a moron. You'll get your photos like everybody else – when the movie is done shooting. Jeff will be passing through your area after we wrap. He'll hand deliver the money. We'll bring a camera along for the DVD extras. Now stop fucking bothering me.— "...highly entertaining and thoroughly reprehensible..." -NY Times describing TuckerMax.com

[DISCLAIMER: My personal belief is this story is authentic, though as some commenters have pointed out, it could be some ruse by Tucker fans to plant a fake story. Though, counterpoint: the story makes Tucker sound bad, not good, so if it were a plant (and we've seen some bad attempts), it would be a stupid one. Verdict: Real in my considered judgment, but if not, I hope Tucker writes a triumphant note soon so that we can mock it.]