You’ve seen them. They’re the guys wearing two polo shirts with both collars popped, have ridiculously coiffed hair, love to show off their “guns”, and in general think that they are the king of the world. Yes my friends, The Head is talking about the mysterious creature known as the Douchebag
The Douchebag is a strange animal to comprehend. They clearly look absolutely ridiculous, act like punks, and are complete assholes, but somehow they are considered to be “cool”. Granted, the Douchebag has existed in one incarnation or another since man evolved from the time traveling space goats that crash landed on earth all those centuries ago, but these days the current incarnation of the Douchebag seems to have taken the art of Douchebaggery to a whole new level.
So as a public service, I will attempt to help you identify the horrific creature known as the Douchebag. Be warned though, these ‘Bros’ and ‘Brahs’ come in all shapes and sizes, and can be difficult to spot at first glance. Luckily there are a few tell tale signs to help you immediately know that the moron in front of you is actually a Douchebag.
The Douche Hair: This one is easy to spot. As a general rule, Douchebags want their hair to look as absolutely ridiculous as humanly possible. Bigger is usually better, unless they decide to get clever and shave funny little designs to look deep. More often than not, the hair goes “up”, especially right in front. Having stupid looking hair is an easy way to crave attention, and The Douchebag will do anything (up to and including painting their phone number onto the side of cows) for attention. Here is an example of Douchebag hair in action:

The Douche Muscles: Douchebags love to show off their muscles. And why not, they work hard to get them. Of course, they will do this at. every. possible. occasion. More often than not they wear shirts that are easy to get off and oil themselves up before going out in order to be able to get that topless as fast as possible. And what situations warrant the removal of the shirt? Well, here is a small sample:
- A hot chick walks by.
- On their 3rd beer.
- It’s time to get that party started.
- They love that song.
- It’s summer.
- Brah!
- To emphasize a point (the point doesn’t matter, and the DB likely doesn’t know what it is anyway).
- Existence.
A side effect of the Douche Muscles has been the evolution of the Douche Shirt. Buying and wearing a shirt of appropriate size is of no fun to the Douchebag. Oh no. They need to buy something at least two sizes smaller than what they should. Ideally they buy this in the little girl’s section at whatever posh store they shop at.
And here we have an example of this situation happening in nature, along with an example of the Douche Shirt in action:


The Douche Lips: Douchebags love to have their picture taken. THEY LOVE IT! It validates their entire existence to have their amazing awesomeness of awesomazing permanently captured for all time. It’s great because they can show off their super hair and their rippling muscles (that shirt flies off whenever they even smell a camera). The key thing though, for a proper Douchebag, is to get their lips juuuuust right. Here they have a choice. Either go for the Non Smiling Sneer, or the Pursed and Puckered lips. The Non Smiling Sneer clearly shows how incredibly bad ass they are, and that they would totally kick your ass, but like, they’d mess up their hair or something. The Pursed and Puckered Lips evolved from Douchebags loving the movie Zoolander, but failing to grasp that it was a satirical comedy. So, they pucker those bad boys for everything they’ve got. Rumours persist that one time a Douchebag puckered his lips so perfectly that a sparrow landed on it and immediately died out of awesome.
Here are two examples of the Douche Lips in action:


The Douche Tan: This one is a tricky one, because it isn’t a constant. Not all Douchebags have the Douche tan. However, it is popular in warmer areas, and a good indicator that what you are dealing with is in fact, grade A Douche. The idea here is that a regular tan just won’t do. Oh no, a regular tan doesn’t demand attention. The Douchebag wants all eyes on him, so he has to pump that tan up 134%. The result is a perfect tan. The result is a glow that makes everyone in a 2 mile radius look on in awe. The result is the pinnacle of modern tanning science. The result is… orange. The Douchebag becomes one with the tan, to the point that his Brahs and Broskies have no choice but to be humbled by the baked perfection that is his skin.
Here is the Douche Tan, in all it’s deliciously orange glory:

The Douche Tat: Douchebags love tattoos. Not as a method of self expression or art, but rather as an example of “Brah, look at my sweet tat! Braaaaah!” Douchebag tattoos come in two categories: 1) Meaningless tribal shit. 2) A Star.
Yes, a scientific study performed by NASA scientists at Science is GreatUniversity has developed a formula that proves that a full 103% of Douchebags will, at one point, get a star tattoo. The majority will get it on their arm into order to show off the guns, some will get it on their stomach to show off their abs, while the rest will get it around their Douche Dick… cuz… you know… Chicks like stars, bro!
Here is a prime example of the Douchebag pulling off the Douche Tat. Note how he emphasizes it in this picture, as if to say, “Originality, thy name is Douche!”:

The Douche Pack: My final tip to recognizing a Douchebag is to identify the Douche Pack. You see, a Douchebag just isn’t happy unless other people are there to appreciate his Douchebaggery. Since there are only two types of people that can stomach a Douchebag; other Douchebags and really drunk girls; the Douchebag will almost always be found in a Douche Pack. This pack of Bros will talk emphatically with their hands, usually make rude comments to passing girls (often involving pulvic thrust motions) and in general egg each other on with bigger and bigger Douchy acts.
Now, there is almost always an Alpha Douche. This Douchebag will get first crack at the hottest of the drunk girls, be the first one to crack open a Douche Beer, and always has first crack at mocking other people. The Alpha Douche will generally also be the first to remove his Douche Shirt, which according to the ancient laws of the Douche Pack, means that the rest of the pack must immediately follow suit. The Alpha Douche also can then grab the arm muscle of any of his Douche Pack, or run his hand down their abs of steel in appreciation, and it totally isn’t gay, a’ight?!?
Here we can see the Douche Pack in action. Notice the one with his thumb up? That, in Douche Bag lingo, indicates that everything is “Brah-tastic”:

At any rate, I hope that this will prove to be an invaluable tool in helping you all identify the Douchebags in the world around you. Remember, a Douchebag may act tough, but ultimately is about the pussyiest thing ever. In a fight scenario, you are guaranteed that the Douche Bag will slap his own chest at least 21 times before he’s ready to throw down. Use that opportunity to punch. 1 punch will usually do. Or walk away in disgust. Either way.
I’d like to thank the ever amusing site: http://www.hotchickswithdouchebags.com for having these images, and helping bring the Douchiest of Bags out to the light of day.
A New Christmas Tradition
Now, everyone knows the traditional Christmas stuff: Santa, his elves, his 7 reindeer (he got hungry), the North Pole (for which Mrs. Claus thanks the little blue pills), delivering toys to all the good little kids in the world, eggnog, stockings, trees, mistletoe (try and trick stupid girls into thinking that two mistletoe equals a beej) and all that other stuff. The problem is that all of these traditions and what not are really fucking old. They date back to ancient Egypt where Jimi Hendrix once played guitar for 17 straight days while high on 44 pounds of shrooms, and at the end, Santa Claus was born out of a jelly donut. Because these traditions, while nice, are so incredibly old, The Head thinks that it’s time to start new ones. To that effect, The Head would like to propose:
The Christmas Hooker.
Godammit Shatner, that ain’t the type of hooker I meant and you know it! No *you* shut up! Don’t you take that tone of voice with me! Don’t you dare pause after each and every word you… Ok fine! Forget the Christmas Hooker! It’s now called:
The Christmas Whore.
You happy Kirk?
Here we go…
Oh dear lord… What have I done? Excuse me…
Sorry. I think my soul just threw up there. Maybe I’ll take another try at…
Oh fuck, I look like a whored up Christmasy Martha Stewart…
To hell with the picture… Moving along. so the idea of the Christmas Hook- I *mean*, the Christmas Whore is that,we round up all the regular whores parading around the city, doll them up a bit with Christmas decorations and what not, and then leave them under the trees of good little boys and girls to unwrap on Christmas morning.
Now, I know what you’re thinking, you’re thinking “HEAD! How could you even suggest that our children engage in inappropriate behavior with whores?!? You’re worse than Billy Ray Cyrus!”
The point isn’t that the Christmas Whores perform any inappropriate action with the kids. As a matter of fact, they are simply there to provide the kids with some harmless companionship, teach them values, play fun childhood games, and instruct them on how to avoid the backhand of an angry pimp while at the same time negotiating a good deal on crystal meth.
Naturally, as whores are in general somewhat expert in the field of sex, they would help give your kids the best and most frank instruction on sex education. No longer would parents have to have the awkward “talk” with their kids! Instead, they simply wait for Christmas to roll around, and trust that the Christmas Whore will take care of this is excruciatingly painful detail.
This will also help teach your children about responsibility, as they will have to walk their Christmas Whore 3 times a day (to the motel so they can meet their Johns), feed them every morning and night (only use the recommended Purina Whore Chow as it gives them a much needed boost of energy and keeps their coat nice and shiny), and also clean out the Christmas Whore’s litter box. These are extremely valuable lessons that kids can really pick up on by helping take care of a malnourished woman with track marks and a switch blade tucked into her “come fuck me” boot.
Ask yourself this: When you get back to work after the holidays, do you want to be one of those lame ass parents that got your kid a Barbie, a Wii or a Tickle Me Rod Stewart? Or do you want to be the envy of the workplace, puff your chest out with pride, and look your co-workers in the eye (yes, even crazy Lenny, the one that pokes people with a sharpened pencil) and tell them that you went out and got the best whore 23$ and a pack of gum could buy?
I thought so.
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