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.
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?