Becoming Max
The Assassination of Max Karson by the Coward Smeth
I’m often compared to Max Karson (mrgirl). Usually it’s said dismissively. Being compared to Max is a bad thing that you should avoid, yet here we are.
Right off the bat, this essay might remind you of Max. You’re probably reading it on Substack. I stole that from him, and he probably stole it from someone else. It’s a good idea.
“A good composer does not imitate; he steals.” -Igor Stravinsky
“Immature artists copy, great artists steal.” -Faulkner
“Good artists copy, great artists steal.” -Both Picasso and Steve Jobs
If you google “derivative” you get this definition:
Derivative
adjective
(typically of an artist or work of art) imitative of the work of another person, and usually disapproved of for that reason.
It wasn’t always bad to be derivative. This started during the Modern Art movement, when novelty became the most important thing. Today, new and exciting artwork instantaneously becomes old news. This attitude emerged alongside consumerism. It’s an ideology that defines art as a commodity. The customer is always right, and artists are like annoying pests that inhibit your ability to freely consume their products.
We venerate novelty but we reject transgressiveness. Throughout history, people with creative new ideas are despised, and mocked by their peers. They fight for their ideas to be accepted, but few of them live to see that day. People are averse to creativity because it leads to change. Nine times out of ten, change leads to negative outcomes. It’s dangerous. That’s Max in a nutshell.
If you agree with the above definition of derivative, you will never be a great artist unless by sheer dumb luck. To be great you must steal. If someone does something that inspires you, it becomes part of you. You improve upon it. You make it your own.
So will the real Shady please stand up
And put one of those fingers on each hand up?
And be proud to be outta your mind and outta control
And one more time, loud as you can, how does it go?
Max is not the real Slim Shady.
His rap songs sound like they were written by Eminem. In many of his videos, he mimics “Mr. Plinkett” from RedLetterMedia. He follows in the footsteps of other YouTubers in structure, style, and subject matter. When Max started streaming, Destiny was his mentor. Inspired by Destiny, Max made his streams more colorful. He copied the debate format, and made it his own. He stole a lot of ideas from Destiny, but Destiny stole very little from Max. Destiny isn’t interested in creating art, he’s interested in maximizing the value of his product. He surrounds himself with “orbiters” who copy him, and it makes him look like a genius.
Max and I have a creative back and forth. Sometimes it may seem like my work was inspired by his, but I notice when his work was inspired by mine. For instance, after my video “Your Narcissist Boyfriend Abused Me Too,” I started using personality disorders as a framework for discussing behavior. Now he does it too, and this goes both ways.
Max has a lot of power over me. He rarely criticizes my work because he doesn’t want to exercise that power. Meanwhile, I critique his work as much as I want. Sometimes this makes me feel very guilty.
In 2019, before I knew Max existed, I experimented with streaming and called into a few shows. The types of conversations I wanted to see simply didn’t exist. I told Pxie that debates were counter productive, and that progressives need to be more empathetic if they want to reach conservatives and Trump voters. I told another streamer that race-play is a natural response to racism, and that Bernie Sanders was a better advocate for black people than most black politicians. At the time, I decided against streaming, because streamers didn’t want to have these conversations.
I’m already Max.
When my Intro to Psych teacher asked us why we chose her class, my classmates gave answers like, “I want to help people.”
I said, “Everyone here is either mentally ill, or wants to learn how to manipulate people.”
The word people used to describe me was “intense.” I had provocative discussions with my peers, asking if they were pedophiles for being attracted to someone three or four years younger. The night before my 18th birthday, I took nude photos of myself, and then bragged about it to my friends and teachers at school. Inspired by Egon Schiele, I would draw nude portraits of myself and bring them to art class for critique. I also painted giant vaginas like Georgia O’Keeffe, because the feminists didn’t appreciate when a man did it. I was suspended five times in elementary school for doing normal kid things, and the cops were called multiple times to scare me. The ACLU never came to save me, so I never felt the same sense of trust in the American system that Max felt; he wasn’t put in his place until college when they arrested him for empathizing with school shooters. I grew up fairly close to Amherst Massachusetts, where Max grew up. It was a lot more progressive by the time I got there. I see Max as an alternate reality version of myself. An older Smeth that had more support going into young adulthood, who’s college didn’t almost trans him, and who wasn’t a smothered only child that grew up in a trailer. That’s why I look up to him. That’s why I participate in the memes about him being my dad. He’s a 38 year old Jewish Smeth.
Along the way, I got more and more fucked up and numb. College did a lot of work, and so didn’t living with my parents. Now at 30, I’m putting the pieces back together, same as Max.
I’ve kept this narrative to myself because of the time Max compared ElderDrazi to Bob from “The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford.” I listened to this conversation while stirring a galvanized tub of pumpkin guts and oatmeal, getting ready to bath in primordial ooze for the Halloween show.
There’s an obligation that I’m supposed to save your life. That any time you’re lost or confused, I’m supposed to be there. … life sucks. Your life always will deteriorate and fall apart and end, because that’s just what happens to everybody. … I will fail that obligation eventually. I will experience, in your mind, a fall from grace. You’ll be like, “… He wasn’t here for this,” and … I think the hatred will grow.
Although there’s truth to his words, he’s saying them because he’s scared. Max spins admiration into a bad thing. He’s filled with guilt, and he believes that you’ll inevitably hate him. He’s right; death and suffering are inevitable, but warning Drazi won’t change that. Admiration is hard for Max to accept.
If he commits suicide, I’ll hate him till the day I die. If he becomes a drug addict, I’ll hate him a little less. I’ve felt angry at my father for getting old and feeble. Was he always so pathetic, or is this new? The thought of Max having kids scares me. I’m not ready to have them, and I’m not ready for Max to have them either, but that’s life. Our parents usually keep having kids, eventually they die, we either have kids or we don’t, and then we die too. It’s a real let down, but it won’t stop anyone from looking up to you.
I’ve avoided comparing myself to Max because of this scene from “The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford,” where Jesse accuses Robert of secretly being out to get him.
Well, if you'll pardon my saying so, I guess... it is interesting the many ways you and I overlap and whatnot. I mean, you begin with our daddies. Your daddy was a pastor at the New Hope Baptist Church... and my daddy was a pastor at the church in Excelsior Springs. You're the youngest of three James boys, and I'm the youngest of five Ford boys. Between Charley and me, there's another brother, Wilbur... with six letters in his name. And between Frank and you, is another brother Robert, also with six letters. And my Christian name is Robert, of course. You have blue eyes, I have blue eyes. You're 5'8" tall, I'm 5'8" tall. Me, I must have had a list as long as your nightshirt when I was 12, but... I seem to have lost some curiosities over the years.
Bob superficially compares himself to Jesse, but they have little in common. I formed my relationship with Max trying to not be like Bob, but it was a self fulfilling prophecy. The superficial comparisons began to stack up, while my true feelings remained hidden. It wasn’t until I started expressing myself that I was able to control my own narrative. I was complicit, but I also blame Max. He’s a lot more like Jesse James than I’m like Robert Ford.
Comparing yourself to Max is scary in two ways. Firstly, a lot of people hate him. He’s a brand risk. On the other side, Max isn’t fond of his own reflection. If the comparison is substantial, he’ll be terrified. It’s not that he doesn’t desire connection. He yearns for it. It’s that he needs to protect you from his greatest bugaboo, himself.
If you’re Max, there is no winning.
In some ways, Max is a good role model. He’s also not.
If you begged me to armchair diagnose him, I would throw up my arms and say “Covert Borderline Personality Disorder.”
Easily mistaken for something called Quiet Borderline, Covert Borderline is an unofficial diagnosis proposed by Sam Vaknin, a leading expert in Cluster B personality disorders. Vaknin claims that gender bias in psychology leads us to ignore Covert Borderline, which is more common in men than women. For this reason, we confuse Covert BPD with Narcissism. Max isn’t a narcissist, he’s a woman. He’s mrgirl.
Unlike classic BPD, Covert BPD is not associated with suicidal ideation. Emotional dysregulation is a core feature of all BPD, but the Covert Borderline has an internal locus of control. To compensate for his constant baseline of turmoil, the Covert Borderline relies on his intelligence as a coping mechanism. He’s hypervigilant to moderate his effect on others, and uses his intellect to control situations and rationalize his emotions. He’s also hypervigilant of his health. Although he’s prone to substance abuse, he will often sublimate his emotions with socially acceptable hobbies instead, which he pursues obsessively. The Covert Borderline is idiosyncratically ethical; it’s his way or the highway. He’s preoccupied with fantasies of perfected love, meaning he needs to feel loved at his worst.
Max is 38. If he has BPD, many traits are likely in remission, which he experiences as becoming more emotionally regulated. Personality disorders are not an objective fact. They’re a narrative tool. If Covert BPD was a map, it would be good enough to guide you around the commercial district of Max’s brain. But if I see myself in Max, what does that say about me?
Max is the science experiment of his narcissistic father;
an expert in child abuse, and the reason Max hates “net good” arguments. I’m sure it’s been said that his father had a “net good” impact on the world. Meanwhile, Max will be brain damaged forever. Like me (and maybe some of you), Max is unwittingly drawn toward people like Destiny because they fill the role of his father. Max told Destiny he loved him after only two conversations.
Because of his father, Max often expresses love through criticism. Likewise, if you criticize Max, he can be at peace with your love. He doesn’t need to be so vigilant if you can stand up for yourself. Otherwise, someone needs to pick up the slack and that’s him. He sees himself as a monster, and if you don’t love the monster, can we really call it love? No. Not until you’re both stripped of all your scales and bleeding out on the floor. That’s love, baby.
Max pours acid on his own self narrative. It’s no surprise that he finds relief by contemplating black holes. There’s literally no limit to the amount of abuse a black hole can take. He generously pours the narrative acid on everyone around him, inviting them into his world of chemical mush. Sometimes they freak out on his stream and leave. Sometimes they love it. If you can stand him, he might be an asset to you. Maybe you’ll want him to be your dad. That’ll scare the shit out of him.
He makes his deconstructive superpower very attractive, like sticking his leg out from the gap in his dress. It’s a source of strength, but if you love him for his strengths… It’s time you met the monster.
He’ll let you down, just like he predicted.
You’re screaming, but I can’t leave you alone.
I should pack up my toys and just go.
I see it, everything that you’re trying to hide.
You’re disgusting inside.
You’re crying, but I can’t let you escape.
I don’t know if it’s pleasure or pain.
Can’t have one without the other, so let’s call em the same.
They’re calling it rape, but you just keep on calling my name.
It’s easy to be brave when you’re filled with guilt.
Max looks sane compared to the average internet sociopath. Vaush is pedo-jacketed for looking at loli. Intelligent women and men stay silent. Opportunists go for the easy kill. Retards take cheap shots for clout. So many cowards, concerned with their image and petty grudges. Max will immolate himself standing up for what he believes. He does it to stop the pain. He already can’t live with himself.
IDDQD
Nothin you can do to me
Stab me or shoot me
You faggots can't even bruise me
But your words cut right through me
I drop down when you boo me
Can't even get up I'm too weak, sayin
IDDQD
Writing this paper feels bad for my relationship with Max.
I’m convinced he’ll abandon me, or something worse. I told him I was afraid to hurt him, and I asked for his consent. His response was, “I am God.”
He answered all my personal questions, but the more I understand, the more my heart starts to race. Eventually it came to a head, and I had a mental breakdown. I desperately messaged Max, nearly begging to be cared for like a child. He said nothing.
I wrote about Covert BPD because I wanted to understand what was wrong with Max. Now that I’ve painted a clear picture, I see myself. The more aware I am, the more scared I become. It’s what I’ve been struggling with in therapy. Underneath my intellectualizing and abstractions is an ocean of guilt. It rises up and attaches itself to anything I come in contact with. I’ve been avoiding it by keeping myself distracted and confused. With this new insight, familiar blurry shapes are coming into focus, and what I see ahead is pain.
A lot of this paper starts by journaling on my phone at work. It’s moments like these that I’m the most tortured by retail. Have a great day thanks for shopping, bitch.
Ironically, talking about my relationship with Max has been the best way to differentiate myself. Even now. Understanding and expressing what’s happening around me puts me in control of it.
You might accuse me of attaching myself to Max, but nothing has changed. I’m being honest about things that most people lie about or repress. If you were me, you wouldn’t be caught dead talking about your relationship with Max. You wouldn’t dare tell him how you feel. Why do you think I’m a “mrgirl orbiter” in the first place? I crash landed on planet mrgirl, I rubbed my balls all over it, and Max welcomed me.
I like to say the quiet part out loud.
It kept me sane growing up as a parentified only child with a narcissistic mother. I shared this gift with my classmates, teachers, and friends. It’s gotten me into trouble, and sometimes isolated me, but I’d rather be alone than have friends who force me to dissociate. For a while, I started to hide this part of myself, only opening up to a select few, and holding everyone else at bay.
Living with my parents as an adult, I learned to avoid them. My mother uses guilt to suffocate me. I’ll be screamed at if I make space for myself, so I stopped trying. I thought I was protecting myself, but this was very bad for me. I realized that when I made my very first YouTube video. At the same time, a close friend and mentor had a similar crushing effect. I made a video about him too. He convinced me to give up on art, and embrace hustle culture. With him as my mentor, I rejected my passions, and learned to use self loathing as fuel. It doesn’t matter how miserable life gets, the only thing that matters is money, his only passion. He tortured me as an extension of himself, and devalued anything I could be proud of. Eventually it was too much, and I cut him out of my life. Against the wishes of everyone around me, I reclaimed myself as an artist.
The week I called into the mrgirl Hotline was the week I quit my job at a nursing home to focus on applying for web dev jobs. I cleaned my room, took my art supplies out of my dog cage, and I bought red lights from Spirit Halloween. Wearing only briefs, I called into the show from inside the cage. It was supposed to be one last art project.
Suddenly, I was an artist again.
I behave like Max the more I’m aware of myself and others. Alternatively, I could keep myself dissociated and confused. But Max is fucked up. He’s like the girl at the gym who you can predict will get raped, but with mind rape.
People hold Max to outrageous standards, and give him criticism they wouldn’t give anyone else, because he’s asking for it. Max clues everyone in on his guilt by constantly imposing new limitations on himself, and ranking himself lower and lower within his own hierarchy. He’s even made this a core principle of his artistic mission. His fans and haters aren’t much different; they answer his call by helping him brainstorm new and creative reasons why he’s a horrible person. Since he’s averse to admiration, he’s more likely to respond warmly to criticism, so it’s the de facto way that his fans express their love for him. Luckily, I don’t have a compulsive need to enlist people around me to punish me. I’ve noticed myself getting anxious when I’m admired, so I’m glad I can learn from Max’s shortcomings. I’ll keep my masochism in the bedroom.
I’m not worried about distinguishing myself artistically.
My channel is about me. My thoughts. My feelings. Most people don’t have it in them to do that. Being vulnerable is scary. It’s hurts and it forces you to dig deep. I have no problem standing out.
I recently watched a drama streamer named Foodshops talking about me. Basically, she was posturing to her audience by giving me “advice.” I shouldn’t talk about my relationship with Max. I’m doing something wrong if my channel isn’t growing as fast as a drama channel. I get these comments from two groups of people: haters, and bigger streamers that I antagonize. For example, when I picked a fight with ChudLogic about being referred to as a “hobbyist.”
Most big streamers let growth dictate their artistic decisions, but I’m clearly not like that. I only want growth on my terms. Do you really think I’m trying to grow as fast as possible when I spend a month writing an essay called “Becoming Max?” Of course not. I’m building a different type of platform. It makes way more sense to compare me to mrgirl than it does to compare me to Foodshops.
So which is it? Do you want me to stand out, or do you want me to do the same thing as everyone else? My content is deeply personal to me. Do you want me to design my personality around the algorithm? Who do you want me to be? Mr. Beast? Destiny? When streamers say these things, I think part of them is jealous of me. Part of me is jealous too; I like money. When haters say these things, I think part of them wants me to go insane and kill myself.
Why would I ever want to become max? What’s wrong with me?
Some people distance themselves from those they look up to. They’re scared. Maybe they don’t believe that their work can stand on it’s own, or maybe they’re afraid of rejection. Half of you fuckers are just going through the motions, covering the latest controversy, and trying to ride the slipstream of drama. Regardless of how easy I make it, you’ll only understand me if you want to. For every one fan I get, I’ll probably get two haters, and that’s fun too. I’m glad I have Max to lean on. He’s a train wreck, and I love him.
Who else can you compare me to? I turned my nose up at content creation until I saw the success* Max had. Not only that, I personally relate to him. He’s like my dad.
Have you ever watched “The Patient?” Steve Carell is a Jewish therapist who gets kidnapped by a serial killer; chained to a bed in his basement and forced to do therapy until the patient is cured. That’s kinda like me. I’m the Jewish therapist locked in mrgirl’s basement.
Eat the world, Seth. Even if it's just a little bit of it.
There was a moment between 2022 and 2023 where I thought I would become your version of what you are to Max. Your very own Robert Smeth Ford called Eben. But I had to go eat my own part of the world. <3
Something that is packaged in mrgirl's prediction that Drazi will start to hate him is: "if you end up hating me because I've done something wrong, it will be disproportionate, and thus not deserved."
One way of looking at it is that he can't accept admiration, but another way of looking at it is that he can't accept justified hatred. (Here, he is accepting the hatred, but not the *reason* for the hatred.)
Accepting admiration (as justified) means you have to also accept eventual hatred from the same person (as justified). There is a selfish incentive here. I'm not sure if he's responding to it or not, but it is there.