How to Piss in Public by Gavin McInnes

Interviewing a guy like Gavin McInnes after reading a memoir like his How to Piss in Public comes across as a sort of inside-out St.-Peter-At-The-Pearly-Gates scenario. Having just been privy to 250-plus pages of ragers, fights, chases, cons, and a whole lot of detailed sex, the accused stands before you to earnestly reassure that everything you just read was an absolutely true, if somewhat abbreviated, recounting of a rogue’s life. The ordained Godfather of Hipsters, McInnes has been at turns a rock star, a magazine mogul, a viral video entrepreneur, a botfly babysitter, a tundra foreman, and most recently, a daddy. Now, he adds author to his docket.

How do you feel having all of this put down in a book?

I feel pretty good about it. The great thing about working so hard on something like that is when people say it sucks, you just go “Oh, well.” I’ve got a lot of sort of prudish, PC people saying it was disgusting and too outrageous, and the beauty of an autobiography is that you can go “Uh, sorry… that happened!”

The stories are pretty wild. At one point, you even offer $1,000 to anyone who can back up claims that anything you said in the book is fabricated.

James Frye and all those guys ruined memoirs a little bit because they lied, so, I don’t want you to be reading with one eyebrow cocked going, “Yeah, right.”

Did factors like that make memoir a hard medium to write in?

There’s a rut with memoirs. Not rut… a temptation. You’re tempted to indulge yourself and set the record straight on things, you know, Lenny Bruce was obsessed with that. You want to get defensive. But I just cut that out, because I’m not here to sell myself or defend myself. I just have to tell the story and keep it funny.

How would you sum up the book?

Well, I went out to make a funny book, it was for maximum laughs, and I realized later it was an inspirational instruction how-to guide on carpe-ing the diem.

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