Douch Bag Du Jour, pt. 1

I once had a girl ask "What's a douchebag?" I was flabbergasted (for a few reasons, actually). Much like a nerd circa 1979 being asked "What's a Wookie?" I was blown about 10 ails back. Vivid flashes of late night clubbing and repeats of Growing Up Gotti danced in my head, there was oh so much that needed to be said. How could one sum up the essence of a "douchebag" using only the limited amount of language (very limited if you represent that public school system) and verbal communication skills available to us mere mortals on this wee planet?

One thing was clear: douchebag isn't an abstract term. There are definitely certain tell tell signs and signifiers that would mark one as a douchebag. If you're jamming your Nickelback/Creed mix in your Hummer on the way the Carlos Mencia show, and are thinking about going back home real quick because you don't think the Affliction t-shirt you have on right now is as cool as the Ed Hardy one you left at home, right next to your undersized Cornhuskers baseball hat, but decide not too because it fuck it it matches your Deisels, guess what?

However, merely possessing a handful of these attributes still would not definitively and wholly make one a douche. In order to truly place oneself among the ranks of Cash Warren and Dane Cook, one must have that "essence rare," that unexplainable and undeniably wretched spirit of the douche.

Therefore, much like Steve Erwin or Jane Goodall, I will commit my life's work (or a few posts on my blog) weathering the elements to figure out exactly what is a douchebag, why are they so awful, and how they can be eradicated.

To know the cure one must know the virus. Until then, keep hope alive.