Reader Mail: Big Sarge
Big Sarge writes in all the way from his furlough in Iraq to weigh in on the use of army gear in the clubs:
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DB1 —
As I sit here working towards tomorrow’s PBR-induced hangover, I feel the need to once again reach out to you in an unsuccessful bid to stop the pounding in my skull.
I happened across today’s offering… and I find it deeply disturbing that douchescrotes world wide are beginning to increase the amount of military paraphernalia they wear and bear. First, it was the camouflage. Then, the dogtags. Now, witness the retard in today’s photo wearing a cocked hat bearing the stripes of a non-commissioned officer in service to his nation. Woof. If I hadn’t already spent Sarge Jr.’s college fund on this flamethrower laptop, I’d have punched the screen in.
Perhaps, on Memorial Day or some other suitable occasion, you could feature a special photo layout of douchebags who add to their scrotiness by wearing military gear… just a thought from a faithful reader, AS WELL AS a prompt pre-orderer of your forthcoming douchebag tome.
Yours in service,
Big Sarge
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Well put, Big Sarge, and glad to hear they hook you guys up with PBRs over there.
What you’re describing is another horrifying facet of the douchescrote’s attempt to construct his masculinity through store-bought image construction rather than authenticity or grounding in “the real.” Appropriating military icons devoid of context are simply another option on their palette of douchal selection.
It could just as easily be 80s punk insignias like mohawks and bomber jackets as it could be military dog-tags made by Armani, or stylized crypto-fascist jack boots — to the doucheface, it’s all just grist for the mill.
Simply recoding the charged icons of authenticity into media-age performative spectacle in the hopes of landing the boobie hott.
Get back here safe and sound Big Sarge, and I’ll keep mocking the scrotewanks over here trying to use your insignias as a marketing strategy to cash in and score some tail while you’re away. And when you get back, punch one in the nads. For me.
