Epilogue
In all likelihood, Oprah will not have me on to cry about my inspirational story. My tale isn’t the usual feel-good transformation that makes for clearly defined self-help books. I am the guy who doesn’t conform to social norms, who doesn’t follow the rules—a sort of antihero at best.
But I did overcome, and I did it my way.
And you can too.
No, you can not...
As a Turkish proverb says, "You can't learn to swim from a book and expect to survive in the sea." Unfortunately, I read this book at the wrong time—when I had just met Dan. Over the past few months, I’ve liked his views on Palestine and his reflections on his own hedonism. In my opinion, he is an incredibly fascinating personality, even a game-changer in some ways, and time will tell how genuine he truly is.
I was mistaken in thinking this book would describe his transformation because it was actually published in 2021, something I only realized towards the end of the book. It’s filled with countless details about his private and sexual life, which are absolutely irrelevant to anyone else. I also don’t quite understand why he remembers so many unnecessary details.
At the beginning of the book, there are only self-centered comments and analyses, but once he gains fame, about 70% of the book shifts to fantasies that resemble cheap, third-rate novels. It’s definitely a bad book. He made some attempt to write about the events that shaped him, which is, at the very least, the point of writing a meaningful book. But overall, it fails to deliver.
The lesson: Never gamble when the game is rigged…unless you rigged it.
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“the grass is always greener”?
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“It will be interesting to watch Dan grow up,” the headmaster said. “He will either become president of the United States or a master criminal.”
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Approach, approach, approach. Volume is the key. The more you fail, the less you will care, and the less you care, the more you will succeed.
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My whole life Dad had taught me to always tell the truth. But he didn’t give me any lessons on dealing with the police, where the truth was not always on your side. Considering he was a convicted felon and I was in constant trouble, that was the kind of mentoring I could really have benefitted from.
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Piss-Poor Performance—was a long-winded military way of saying my mantra: Life is all in the setup.
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Your mouth will get tired of telling me what to do before my body gets tired doing it.
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It felt good to tell my professor to fuck off.
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“It’s better to have a short life that is full of what you like doing than a long life spent in a miserable way.”
Alan Watts
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It wasn’t really that I was fearless; I was worried the plane could explode, being that it was on fire. I was just so irritated and embarrassed by the situation that my pride trumped my self-preservation. I figured, like the captain who goes down with his ship, I would stay on, and if God wanted to shit on my head, then so be it.
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Leonardo DiCaprio told a mutual friend that he wanted to meet me, and I was thrilled. But between the impossibly loud music and the Quaaludes I had eaten, I couldn’t communicate for shit. I felt like a slurring retard. Not knowing what to say, I offered him one of my few precious Quaaludes. He politely declined after telling me he’d never tried them before. We yelled, smiled, and raised our eyebrows like we were communicating for about thirty seconds. I gave him a fist bump and headed back to my table. I couldn’t help but find it ironic that the guy who informed the younger generation about Ludes had never even eaten one.
I wish I had a better DiCaprio story, but a woman did tell me that a few months prior, she was in a club with him when he was growing out his beard for The Revenant. She told me he jumped on the table and shouted, “I have this beard and all these women! I’m like Dan Bilzerian!” I didn’t believe her at the time, but he knew who I was, and it’d be a strange thing to make up.
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Dan was like the Eiffel Tower to hedonism.
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One of the problems with being a celebrity is that the media can just print lies, and you have no real recourse. Denzel Washington once told a reporter, “If you don’t read the newspaper, you’re uninformed; if you do read it, you’re misinformed. We live in a society where it’s just first. Who cares? Get it out there. We don’t care who it hurts, we don’t care who we destroy, we don’t care if it’s true. Just say it, sell it. Anything you practice, you’ll get good at—including BS.”
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International Incident
Three months after moving into the Ignite house, my father insisted I become an Armenian citizen.
Disillusioned by the way he’d been treated by the United States judicial system, my father had moved to St. Kitts and gotten my brother and I citizenship down there. He’d renounced his US citizenship and acquired Armenian citizenship as well and wanted my brother Adam and me to become Armenian citizens. He held meetings with high-ranking government officials, and they agreed, but first Adam and I would need to actually travel to Yerevan, the capital of Armenia.
I grabbed a couple girls, fired up the jet, took an Ambien, had sex, and passed out for pretty much the rest of the ride. A ton of paparazzi were camped out at the airport, but the last thing I wanted to do after a long flight was be photographed, so we hurried through the airport and went to the hotel. There are only three million Armenians in the country, and it felt like every single one of them knew me. We were mobbed everywhere.
Dad had a full schedule for us. First, we completed the paperwork, met with some government officials, and then received our passports. The military set up a day of shooting, but evidently didn’t think it was important to disclose that it would take place in a disputed territory. Every gun in their military armory was laid out and ready. Pistols, machine guns, sniper rifles, grenade launchers—you name it. All the way up to tanks. I shot everything, and my brother and the girls also got off some rounds. Finally, they gave me a rocket launcher and instructed me fire it into the side of a mountain.
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The following day, Azerbaijan issued an international warrant for my arrest. According to them, that mountain was attached to Azerbaijan, and they didn’t appreciate me firing a rocket into it.
I wasn’t far from Thailand, where my buddy Tarzan and Jay Rich were already shooting a music video for Ashanti. So I figured I’d hang with them and then just fly my plane the rest of the way around the world for the first time.
The next day, I arrived at Sri Panwa, a really high-end resort in Phuket owned by a rich Asian named Wan. He was friends with Jay and a gracious host, allowing me to stay in a $17 million villa for free. I wanted to give his resort a shout-out on social media, but I worried that Azerbaijanis would show up with ski masks and AK-47s and extradite me to their country to rot in prison. This wasn’t a totally sarcastic concern as the incident was getting international press, and I was now a pawn in their land dispute.
Meanwhile, all this high-profile activity, the good and the bad, had only served to help my brand awareness. The Ignite vape pen won the Best CBD Vape Pen category at the High Times Cannabis Cup. They sent the trophy to my villa in Phuket, and we set up a quick photo with a curvaceous model. In front of the infinity pool, she bent over at the waist, nude, while I perched the hardware right above her ass. It quickly became one of my most liked posts.
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“The devil doesn’t come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns. He comes as everything you’ve ever wished for.”
Tucker Max