Honorary Douchebag of the Month: Brett Favre
If we define the douchebag as the preening narcissist who turns himself into a spectacle to attract attention, than who better to earn an honorary Douchebag of the Month than the clown prince of football, Brett Favre?
This oafish yoyo has come out of retirement yet again, simply to see headlines about himself coming out of retirement yet again.
Whether you’re a fan of football or not, this self-important preening narcissist spends the better part of each year making sure his ass is suitably kissed by football fans, talk show hosts and media the world over.
He has retired and unretired more times than a porn star late on car payments, proving not only that his massive ego needs constant placation, but that the sport itself is secondary to the desire to see his name endlessly trumpeted on TV and radio.
Since personifying the faux-humble jockbag that Mary dated in There’s Something About Mary in 1998, Favre hasn’t just forced us to reverse the “r” and “v” when we pronounce his name. He’s forced us to pay attention to his unquenchable need to be talked about. Constantly. To have the world kiss his ass on a yearly basis with “will he or won’t he” stories for almost a decade straight.
“Attention Whore” doesn’t begin to cover it. He makes Perez Hilton look like J.D. Salinger.
Suck it, Favre. You lead the douche league in interceptions, stubbley chin hair and self worship. Even when your father died, you turned it into a spectacle about yourself playing a freaking game rather than mourning with your family. This makes you a massive pile of douche water.
Take your Levis and your chin hair and your false small-town good ole’ boy performances and stuff ’em up your ass. The fact I have to listen to another year about your sorry ass “retiring” makes me want to throw an interception made out of monkey feces and spittle.
Get the hell off my teevee and never come back.
1sterile