Anti-motivation secret to getting shyte done


Señor Maxi’s “writing muse” didn’t report for duty today.


Stroking dem keys felt harder than hiking mount Kilimanjaro after a 3 day booze bender.


And just as my “inner bitch” stretches her tentacles to snatch me down “just do it tomorrow” land… I remember something Dan Kennedy always says.


In one of his “No BS” books… he talks about the fallacy of “positive thoughts.”


There’s a slew of “The Secret” type gyooo-ryooos pedalling the idea that the only way to get stuff dunzo is to focus on “thoughts.”


And Odin forbid you have a “negative” one… because then all wealth and creative prowess drains outta your soul like a vampire stabbed in the heart.


To quote Mr. Kennedy:


“I worked 12 hours on a Sunday, on this book. I didn’t wake up highly motivated. I wasn’t inspired by a muse. Nor did I try to find someone to inspire or motivate me. I didn’t need to listen to a motivational recording. I just went to write… because I had a deadline.”


I can already hear the thumping faints of the #MondayMotivation gyoo-ryoo church goers. Who believe you can’t glue your ass down on your stained chair and write… until you’ve done your “flying turtle” meditation. (Or whatever gooey woo-woo tricks are hot these days.)


And hey… I ain’t saying that stuff doesn’t help some people get over their bad self so they start tappin’ keys. If it rocks your boat… knock thyself out, amigo.


I’m saying it’s preposterous to think it’s your “thoughts” helping you get through the day…. when it’s in fact, your behavior. (Regardless of your squishy thoughts.)


It’s what the man Dan calls behavioral congruency.


It’s the principle that all the +ve hoopla on the planet won’t help you… if you can’t sit thou bootay on a chair and do the stuff. Even if you’d rather lock yourself in a room for 4 hours and listen to a chainsaw buzzin’.


This is also something your humble and not-so-sober Señor Maxi does. (Well, tries to anyway.)


Now… let’s not get crazy here, I ain’t workin’ 12 hour Sundays.


I’ll leave that to the #HustleNoSleep crowd on their way to stroke number 2 and divorce number 3.


But I DO write me daily emails in all sortsa brain funk.


Inspired, blocked, hungover, tired, missing a toe… doesn’t matter. The stuff that needs writing gets written, cap’n.


No “flying turtles” or pats on the back from fakebook pity parties needed.


In fact… if you ditch all those “7 step morning rituals” gyooo-ryooo X tells you to follow, you’re telling your noggin you don’t need no motivation. And that you’re a self-motivatin’, badass mofo. (Plus, you won’t have to keep buying gyooo-ryooo X’s secret “motivation hacks.”)


And if you find yourself more “blocked” than usual, staring at a blank screen waiting for baby-jeezus-type divine intervention… then you gon’ dig page 2 of Señor Maxi’s hot, new copywriting memoir.


Where I wag me tounge about simple tricks you can use to slay the “writer’s block” demon… in more morning-ritual-free ways than your greedy paws can handle.


Because no green stuff zooms your way until stuff gets written and phones start ringin’, mi hermano.


You can feast your dollar-sign-eyeballs on it soon.


For now… go get yourself into some good trouble.


Later, sailor.


Max “Flying Turtles” Hamm

Would you drug your twin to succeed?


A dude in a Peruvian prison serving a 16 year sentence breaks out of the can in shocking fashion.


Now… I ain’t naming namez because I’ve seen too many NetFlix shows about cartels. So I’m not too pumped about losing limbs for the time being.


Anyway, he doesn’t dig a tunnel under his toilet… or mastermind a riot overthrowing the guards.


No… no. That’s amatuer shyte for this guy.


What does he do?


This guy takes the twin-to-twin bond to a whole new level.


He drugs his visiting twin brother, grabs his clothes, and slips outta the can like pink panther. Leaving the sibling in his cell KO’d by roofied soda.


Take notes Andy Dufresne. Should’ve just paid the Russians to clone you a twin brother instead of diggin’ tunnelz for 19 years.


Anyway… you know what’s REAL scary about this?


The dude didn’t even think twice about fookin’ over his kin.


All he wanted was to get out by any means necessary so he can go “see his mother”… as he claims after they busted his ass again.


Sure, bud.


As if you expect her to jump for ecstatic joy when she figures you left your bro dazed n’ confused in a jail cell. (Took the sibling months to convince authorities he wasn’t the prisoner, and that he wasn’t part of the escape plot.)


La familia first, huh?


Anyway… why oh why is Señor Maxi ramblin’ about twin-on-twin backstabbing n’ prison escapes?


Because, my curious pupil… this sociopathic behavior also swarms the biz world.


There ARE swindlin’ bastids who will do near damn anything to get the sale.


They’ll make promises they can’t keep, they’ll tell you only the stuff you need to hear to buy, and then disappear into the ether once they get yo green stuff. (Results? What results? Didn’t you read the 2x font fine print saying none of this stuff actually works?)


It’s the same mentality of ol’ Peru prisoner. Guy even screws over his own kin… the only person who gave a shyte enough to visit his degenerate behind in jail.


It’s also why most marketers and biz owners make the mistake of “swiping” email copy… or using “templates” rammed with “shouting match” idiocy.


You know… the “make 7 figures while ya sleep” buffoonery. Or my personal favorite: “6-figure copywriter in 7 days… even if you’ve never written a word.”


Most people can’t even take a decent shit in 7 days, man. What’re ya smokin’?


Which is why Señor Maxi openly tells you this ‘ere dungeon ain’t a “get rich quick” training ground, cap’n.


In fact, you won’t make a single dinero (or “crush it, bro”) using my stuff if you’re looking for an overnight, baby Jeezus type miracle.


Plenty of “funnel hackers” and Fakebook gyoo-ryoos to help ya with that.


In these parts, we do grown up shyte. We write money-making emails drenched in ol’ school salesmanship and curiosity. And we build legit audiences without drugging our twinz.


And if that’s what you wanna do, amigo… then ya’r gonna dig this shameless plug for my upcoming email copywriting memoir… where I’ll yap about the “hype vs. not hype” conun-do-rum plaguing the marketing marsh lands.


Hit ya with it soon timez.


Stay outta jail.


Max “Don’t Roofie Your Twin” Hamm

“Ninja hacking” dorks offend and outrage Señor Maxi


The clueless “ninja hacking” marketing squads trigger Señor Maxi once again.


I’m really trying to watch my blood pressure these days.


But the “hacks n’ funnelz” buffoons are it again… pedalling idiocy passing as “email marketing strategies.” (They also butchered the word strategy to death… and it now resonates about as much as the words “mindset” and “blueprint”. Yawn.)


And as your humble and not-so-sober messenger of all things email (the money-making kind)… it’s my duty to bringeth thou attention to the wriggling worms ushering your sales to oblivion.


Here’s what I stumbled across on the phony marsh lands of fakebook:


“Super effective email subject line you need to try” says the headline of the video… wrapped in hacky elevator music and faceless writing.


This oughta be good, right?


What’s this “super effective” email sub line?


To keep up with the hackiness… I’m also gonna say “drum roll please.”


Anyway… the line was:


“Don’t read this email.”


Wow. How fookin’ clever is this bunch?


I just picture an overly-giddy seminar junkie with a “persuasion hacker” t-shirt jumpin’ up n’ down trying to explain this to me:


“But don’t you get it, bro??”


“By telling them NOT to read the email… you’re using stealth x-ray ninja hack #432, which says most people don’t like being told what to do… and they do the opposite of what you tell them.”


“So they read that email when you actually told them don’t. Oh ma gaaawd…  this is so evil n’ wicked I’m getting the spinal tinglez, bro!”




Alright, beat it nerd. Let the grown ups do a lil’ talkin’ now, hmmkaay?


You know the biggest problem with this stuff?


It’s that these hucksters think people are this styoopid… and can’t see right through the thick layer of stanky bull shyte zooming their way.


Sure, they may open the email… but do ya REALLY think they’ll open your next pesky parasite you call “email copy”?


Nah. In the dumpster you go. (They should even blacklist yo ass.)


Worst part is… hucksters WANT—hell, NEED—that email opened. And they pretend like they don’t care… when they really do care. Because the content of the email screams “I beg you to read this to the end and buy my stuff.”


Here’s a thought… how about cuttin’ the crap, and actually sitting down and firing up ye ol’ rusty noggin?


How about coming up with an original, curiosity-drenched subject line flowing right into the email?


And how about NOT disguising the fact you’re trying to get sales for your biz… and pitch like ya damn well mean it?


Man, who would’ve thunk people actually respond well to genuine, raw realness, huh?


Styoopid simple concept. But most completely muck it up.


And to help ya avoid this wretched, vile stuff that’ll kill your sales (like “ninja hack” subject linez over here)… Señor Maxi’s shufflin’ his behind concocting an email copywriting memoir that’ll boost thou sales.


It’s jam-packed with money-making persuasion principles for grown ups… and completely barren of “ninja hacks” and “funnel wizardry, bro.”


So mi hermano… if ya crave gobs more o’ de Benji Frankie green stuff, you can get your sticky-icky fingaz on it soon.


Alright… I’m zoomin’ on outta here before I see another “persuasion hacker” and finally get that stroke.


Stay woke, amigo.


Max “People Ain’t Styoopid” Hamm

V-day quickie to getting over yo squishy, fearful self

“I don’t have self-confidence. There are a lot of men like me who find women scary…” says Ano Matsui.


He’s a 26 year old dude recently profiled by the BBC about the sex-pocalypse thwacking Japan. (They found more than a third of young Japanese adults between 18-34 are virgins.)


Now… this is also going down in North America, cap’n. In fact—lab coats at San Diego State University reveal American adults are bangin’ about 9 times fewer in the 2010s compared to adults in the late 90s.


Now… there’s some theories floating around trying to explain the barren wastelands smothering ‘Murican bedrooms.


Stuff like… youngins having less interest in marriage, #MeToo scaring the nervous-nellies from engaging with women… and a ho lotta por-noh and Netflix binging.


Yeah, perhaps.


But let’s break down a much biggah problem at play here.


The problem Señor Maxi believes is the root cause of all this. (And I’ll be talking to the dudes on this one. The same may or may not apply for the lay-deez… but it sure as shit applies to guys.)


And it’s what Mr. Matsui raps about up top. It’s this “lack of confidence and fear of women” a lot of dudes wrestle.


Here’s the durty little secret about this “confidence with women” stuff, amigo:


You don’t magically get thumped by Odin’s hammer from the sky… and wake up full of confidence to charm chicks off their rockers.


It don’t work that way, sailor.


This feeling of fear has root causes that’ve got nothing to do with the lay-deez.


Shyte like:


1. NOT doing difficult stuff that builds character.


2. NOT getting fookin’ GOOD at a real, money-making skill or art people actually give a bullocks about.


3. NOT having bigger goalz and concerns in life than where to shoot your loads.


4. NOT looking in the mirror and facing the reality that “be yourself” ain’t enough if you feel like dog shit being yourself.


5. NOT realizing the ridiculousness of waltzing around like the world owes you stacks o’ cash and harems of ass just because you’re alive.


6. NOT listening to the guys who don’t have a problem getting women and dates… and instead, listening to knuckle-heads with chips on their shoulder just because they got rejected once. Or worse… going to girls for dating advice.

(Not sayin’ the lay-deez don’t give good dating advice. But guys benefit lots more listening to the dudes who actually attracts the kind of women you’re after… and the lay-deez benefit lots more listening to the women who actually attract the kind of guys you’re after. Otherwise it’s just “arm chair” advice.)


7. NOT having a “fook you” attitude towards rejection and other people’s opinions of you… including the women you’re chasing like a ruff-ruff doggy.


And hey… I’m telling ya this because I fooked this all up before too.


I was passive, clueless, and thought the world owed me something.


And then I discovered Uncle Jameson Irish Whiskey… and he sat my dumb-ass on a stool and broke life down.


Ok… that’s not what happened.


What happened was getting smacked square in the jaw by the mother-of-all belief-shattering bombs of life:


That no one owes you shyte… and it’s on YOU to flip the “NOTs” on that list to “HAVEs.”


And if you wanna do exactly that… then you’re gonna dig the email copywriting memoir I’m whipping up for ya.


Because the parallels between dating, sales, and client-getting ain’t all that diferent, cap’n.


And you’ll enlighten thou big, burly brain with the secrets and principles you need to kick lotsa ass in yo biz AND bed.


You can get yo eager paws on it soon.


For now… go get yourself into some trouble.


Later, champ.

Max “NOTs to HAVEs” Hamm

Would ya reincarnate as a burd?


Señor Maxi spots a hawk on a tree during this morning’s coffee run.


The burd of prey was knee deep in breakfast… shredding a small house sparrow with its razor sharp talons. The poor lil’ bastid.


If reincarnation was actually a thing… I’d come back as one of those ruthless hawk fookers.


You see… as a hawk, all you gotta worry about in life are other ass hole hawks. Top o’ the food chain, cap’n.


My previous reincarnation choices were bears and crocodiles.


But I don’t really wanna sleep 6 months of the year… wake up famished, then devour my own offspring. (Yes, bears eat cubs. Get that cute Yogi bear nonsense outta your head, sailor.)


As for the creepy giant lizards with the jaws of death… turns out, they get jacked by jaguars. Yeah, jaguars pounce on kroks when they get too close to shore.


So for now… hawk it is when Señor Maxi comes back for another round on planet blue rock.


Here’s the other crazy thing about burds: The world’s first flying creature—Aurornis xui—took to the skies 150 million years ago.


So they were here long before you and I walked upright with our feet… and picked up jugs of ale with our hands.


And they’ll still be here long after we’ve nuked each other to oblivion.


Why am I yappin’ about burds and nu-ka-lure apocalypses today?


Because the same song goes when marketing your biz, sailor.


Social media, twittah, funnel this, and “ninja hack that. They’re all temporary blips on a massive timeline.


They’ll come and go. They’re tools n’ gadgets. Not principles.


The written word… and persuasive communication is a principle.


And right now… email is the fastest way to spread thy money-making message, mi hermano.


Sure, ya might read your emails on a heads-up-display stashed in your retina 30 years from now… but it’s still the same persuasive principles. (Based on streetwise salesmanship and good ol’ entertainment.)


Email—or the written word—was here, and will still be here when you punch yo ticket. Just like our bud hawk remains lord of the sky. (And who’s also eyeballin’ my ear as a potential pre-lunch snack right now.)


But not all emails are created equal.


Just like only some hawks get to eat and make more little bastid hawks… only some emails make you gobs o’ de green stuff.


The rest?


Banished to digital trash can land.


And as your humble and not-so-sober guide, I’ve taken it upon me self to help you flip your emails from pesky inbox parasites… to mighty money-makers addicting your readers.


Sound goody to you?


You do want lots more of the Benji Frankie green stuff, don’t ya?


Well… then you’re gonna rejoice at what your eyes will feast upon in my upcoming email copywriting memoir. Where I’ll rap to lengths on what exactly you must do to x-ray your emails for any boring, non-persuasive shyte killing your sales.


You can wrap your capitalist paws around it soon.


For now… I’m zippin’ on outta here before this hawk gets all territorial on my ass.


Later, champ.

Max “Livin’ Da Hawk Lyfe” Hamm