Smart Girls at the Party fans, prepare for a disappointment of the douche kind. In order to increase viewers for their second season, the SGATP team (whose first season focused on young girls kicking major ass – check it out if you haven't seen it) is joining forces with Joe Francis (the owner of Mantra Films and the jerkstore behind the Girls Gone Wild franchise) and his band of douchenozzles to create a Girls Gone Wild-type show for tweens. That's right – now, instead of watching tween girls talk about their awesome bands or cool art projects, on Smart Girls at the Party Season Two we can see them flounce around in teeny bikinis holding wet t-shirt contests and seeing who can tie a knot in a cherry stem the fastest. W.T.F.?
Someone should make a bumper sticker that reads So many douchebags, so little time. I'd buy it. Every week when the Douchebag Decree comes around, there are too many douches and it's almost impossible to determine who deserves the honor most. This week, we have two very strong contenders, which is why we need YOU to vote for your (least) favorite in a DOUCHEBAG SHOWDOWN. Two douches enter, one douche leaves!
In an effort to cast a net beyond the sea of my own opinions (most of which involve reality television and hilarious animal photos) I asked for reader feedback on this week's Douchebag Decree. The nominations were many, and all were deserving: The Itawamba School District, for its attempts to ban gay couples from attending the prom. Eric Massa, for allegedly sexually harassing employees in his Congressional office. Ken Cuccinelli, for his letter advising public universities to retreat from their policies against discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation. Ben Roethlisberger, for yet another alleged sexual assault. Douchebags are running amok!
However, one nominee rose to the top of the list for me, especially once I realized this Douche Supreme has never been awarded The Decree before. (I guess it was too obvious?) Congratulations, Howard "Douchemeister" Stern.
People, we here at Bitch HQ have a lot on our plates, and you know how we don't want to spend our time? Continuing to argue with commenters about our use of the term "douchebag." We get it: Some of you don't like the term, and would prefer that we don't use it. But moderating weekly arguments in the comments section of Douchebag Decree posts has, frankly, grown pretty tiresome. So here's the deal: We're going to continue using the term, and those of you who aren't happy about it are going to have to either use the comments section of Douchebag Decree posts to comment on, you know, the actual posts, or else go to another site where you can rail against the term.
At this point, we probably don't need a refresher on Tiger Woods and his scandal-making behavior. We've all got the 411 on his many mistresses, his alleged sex addiction, his lost endorsement deals, and his overall douche-y behavior. But what do we do with that knowledge? Where do we direct our feelings of disappointment?
Well, if we were Michael Caldwell, the ideas man behind Tail of the Tiger, we'd create a set of 12 golf balls with the alleged mistresses' faces painted on them so that our fellow golfers could literally hit the women in the face with a club. Yep, that's right.
It's almost Halloween, which means I'll be a little anxious trying to figure out what the hell to dress as this year, as I do every year. Yet, were I to go to a Halloween costume store and try to find something, I wouldn't really be able to find anything that exciting. Scary, sure. But not in a Halloween scary way. I'd find a lot of ridiculous outfits of all kinds that require garter belts, knee-high boots and close-to-nothing tops but that are somehow "different characters". Yes, it's true that the contention for Halloween costumes for ladies is not a new beef: it's been quite awhile since "sexy" Halloween costumes have been all the rage. But when did Spongebob become sexy? Is Pocahottie seriously a choice? And Strawberry Shortcake in thigh-highs? This week's Douchebag Decree is dedicated to Spirit Halloween Store because if you don't want to bear your bosom in the name of dress up fun, well sister, you're shit out of luck.
Whether it's his offhand-way of dropping misogyny, his female-rating system that puts how-many-beers-til-she's-hot-Yalies to shame, or his website that requires only the most minimal of minimal perusals to incite any feminist, it's not difficult to dislike Tucker Max. He's been utterly dissed by the Hater, called a "gender traitor" by Glamour's Ryan Dodge, and this is most definitely not the first time he's been called douchebag. But as a self-professed asshole, Tucker Max would no doubt affectionately embrace this week's Douchebag Decree title. Therein lies the problem: a compelte willingness to embody--and market--being a D-bag.
And with a movie based on his best-selling (yep!) book I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell coming out Sept. 25 and a second book Assholes Finish First coming down the pipeline (customers who bought this item also bought The Complete A**hole's Guide to Handling Chicks!), Tucker Max isn't going off the radar any time soon. But why care?
So I was riding in the car yesterday, fiddling with the radio dial, when I was blindsided by a gigantic bag of douchiness, masquerading itself in radio EP form. Coming through the speakers in my friend's Kia were these words (poorly sung, I might add):
Shush, girl! Shut your lips!/ Do the Helen Keller, and talk with your hips!
I'm sorry, what? Do the HELEN KELLER? Because the ideal woman is unable to hear, see, or speak and can only communicate through hip gyrations? Once I recovered from the severe case of douchelash these lyrics brought upon me, I was able to do a bit of investigative research. The song is called "Don't Trust Me," and the offenders performers are the Colorado-based duo 3oh!3. Apparently, this single and its creators are sweeping the nation this summer, delivering a message of doucherty and douchetice for all. Peep the video for further evidence of this:
More decency-defying douchebaggery after the jump!
For the love of god, what will it be next? This is not Burger King's first rodeo, in terms of terrible, sexist advertising, but it might be the raunchiest and therefore the most abhor-able. There is no reading between the lines here, no smoke and mirrors as far as the imagery and message are concerned. So who the hell keeps getting this smut on their desk and signing off on it? In past blogs, we've tackled this b.s. once or twice before, and you'd think they'd eventually get over the tired, easy, douchebag messaging. "Fill your desire for something long, juicy and flame-grilled"? For the love of... Please, please, this is so grade school immature and straight-up offensive.
Burger King, women don't like giving sandwiches fellatio. Shockingly enough. Based on past ad campaigns, Burger King thinks women think hamburgers are babies and now, penises, and that we'll stuff our pants to emulate Spongebob so we can drop it like it's hot in some weird, washed-up '80s hip-hop star's quasi-music video. A big shut up, please, to Burger King for their latest jaunt down Douchebag Avenue. BK execs, why don't you take your own advice and suck it (metaphorically speaking).