Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Reader Mail: Douchebags in the Midwest


———–
Dear DB1,
Why do normal midwest girls think douchy dudes are hot?

I myself hate em. but my friends (not I) run to them like a flock of seagulls. I dont understand please please help.

I have included two photos of my BFF and her stupid new boy.
enjoy
– Angie

—–

Ah. The cosmic question.

The answer to the hottie/douchey coupling, young Angie, lies not in the seeking of conclusions or concrete end points, but as a path of sequential investigations leading to a higher truth through process.

As the great Talmudic scholar Rashi once taught us, “God knew where he was, but he asked so as to start a conversation with Adam and avoid startling him too much to reply.”

The conversation, as the Tanach teaches us, not the answers, is wherein we find the revelations of the God shards. Follow these questions like Adam and God, as dialectic, as what Derrida calls the metaphysics of subjectivity and the incongruences of the text, and the process of interrogation, in and of itself, will lead to revelation.

For all will ultimately be revealed in the glorious and holy mathematical curve we call pear.

# posted by douchebag1
1:33 pm April, 5 Choad The Douche Sprocket said...

Mathematical parabola is more like it ELV.

That ass is so big, it has its own garage.

1:35 pm April, 5 Choad The Douche Sprocket said...

HooraY…FOR me! i gots in b-4 Dark Sock, Rev Chad et al…

1:39 pm April, 5 Barbara Eden Lover said...

She looks like a young Barbara Eden. He looks like a clown child. Only I, Barbara Eden Lover, am fit to rim and poke the very fine buttocks of the 77 year old Jeannie. And I will, oh yes….I will. I’d fuck this chick too.

1:39 pm April, 5 Choad The Douche Sprocket said...

…and back to the original question, one must look to the Hellenistic School of Hedonism, i.e. the pleasure principle, to truly understand he hottie-douche dialectic.

For if pleasure is truly the only intrinsic good, then the douche’s motives in pawing the hot are manifest.

Whither thou goest with the reasons hot chicks like steaming pools of greasewhack pustules of humanity, is a question I’ll leave to the Socratic scholars amongst you.

1:46 pm April, 5 chaserofthehott said...

Am I missing something here DB1?
.
Where’s the second picture of her friend?
.
Is she naked in it?

1:52 pm April, 5 Barbara Eden Lover said...

Not feeling it. I need more sepiatone. Fucking digital cameras.

2:12 pm April, 5 Vin Douchal said...

MMMmmm, pony tailed, cornfed tight little midwestern chickadees in cutoff jeans with the front of the shirt tied up in a knot exposing the navel and hips wearing a hat named Angie ……
.
What was the question ?

2:20 pm April, 5 Et Tu Douche? said...

A Flock of Seagulls reference??? How old are you Angie and might this be your daughter? if so congrats she’s all sort’s of farm fresh, corn fed, Mid-Ohio, yummy hott.
.
Hmmmmmmmm!!!!!!! sub tropical pera

2:35 pm April, 5 Dr. Bunsen HoneyDouche said...

Was this picture taken inside of Reactor #2 or an upright tanning machine? Either way I don’t think he’s gotten a high enough dose yet.
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..
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What? Too soon?

2:55 pm April, 5 memphis doucheworkers local 421 said...

I hate to say it, but male douchebaggery is primarily the fault of the female sex and the pressures of sexual selection on male courting behavior. Do you think the male peacock, arguably the douchiest of all vertebrates, chose to have gigantic feathers and shiny plumage that contribute nothing to its ability to survive and pass on its genes? In fact, in many species where sexual selection has created an uncontrolled arms race towards blingy choadation, gaudy male plumage and markings actually inhibit the animal’s ability to flee from predators and find food.

In short, if women would stop rewarding this unacceptable behavior by fucking these guys, it would disappear in a generation or two. Humanity might then once again move towards its potential if women would reward more practical and legitimate displays of male genetic desirability such as intelligence, physical strength and skill, humble understated confidence, employability, creativity, artistic ability, observant curiosity, and empathetic altruism rather than cheap, superficial, contrived plumage and easily-faked strutting.

Sure, the douchebags themselves are responsible too. I do not excuse their behavior, and they deserve to be mocked into the margins of society. But if you have to assign the majority of blame to one side or the other – it goes to the female side of the equation.

3:13 pm April, 5 I R A Darth Aggie said...

If I knew pear was mathematically perfect, I’d have studied the calculus much much more closely. Now, if the pear in your picture wishes to dive in, I say go for it. I’ll be right behind you…

3:20 pm April, 5 El Bastardo Magnifico said...

I seem to be having impure thoughts about Angie’s friend. Even with that unnatural radioactive orange skin tone. If that twatrocket with her’s head got any bigger, he’d be the Incredible Hulk’s arch enemy.

3:28 pm April, 5 Wedgie said...

She’s a cutie. Maybe his giant head came equipped with a tongue of equally epic proportions. I would like to believe that’s it, otherwise, it’s just sickening.

3:28 pm April, 5 Wedgie said...

And that math you call pear I just refer to as a chick with a fat ass.

3:33 pm April, 5 Et Tu Douche? said...

@memphis doucheworkers local 421
.
Well said sir, well said

4:15 pm April, 5 Hermit said...

I predict that if Angie were to relay DB1’s excellent answer to her conundrum, it would do little to dissuade her BFF from her poor choice in men.
She would likely retort, “What-ev-errrr!” with the obligatory emphasis on the last syllable.

5:27 pm April, 5 Medusa Oblongata said...

As a midwestern female, I’ll take this one from here. Hello, Angie. Let me start out by saying that, having lived my entire life in the armpit-esque state of Illinois, there is a certain lack of glamour to every aspect of life here. Once upon a time, when I was about the age of your pal in the photo here, that was just fine. We were a hardy lot. The winters were cold and desolate, the summers insufferably hot and humid. Chicago was a big blip in the middle of 2,000 square miles of corn and most people didn’t miss much if they never went there. The city was gritty, ugly, poor and savage; cops prided themselves on beating and raping anyone in their custody. The clubs were dank, filthy and the grinding industrial sound popularized by Wax Trax! Records was the rage.
.
There was a certain pride we took in being a stocky, beer-quaffing, sausage-eating, iron-working bunch of brutes, be we man or woman alike. The midwest had a charm all its own, something the smelly, granola-munching hippies on the West coast didn’t get, and something the neurotic, uppity, pretentious folk on the East thought they were too good for.
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And then something went wrong.
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Reality Television began to seep into our collective consciousness. The dawn of the internet realized Andy Warhol’s dire prophecy of the 15 minutes of fame for everyone. Somehow, it was no longer enough to be who we were. It was no longer satisfactory to be a grizzled plainsman. It was no longer acceptable to be the backbone of America. Suddenly, we wanted to be its gilded teeth, its designer shades, its acrylic fingernails with glued-on rhinestones. The rusting hulk of Chicago was glazed over with a flaky veneer of designer boutiques, chocolatiers, sushi bars and overpriced clubs with velvet ropes outside. Minneapolis followed shortly, as did St. Louis, Indianapolis, and Des Moines, for Pete’s sake.
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With this rise in the grab for glitz came the desire to live the part, and the rise of the 30K millionaire in the heartland began. An honest job in a factory or on a farm or even in an office was a target of derision. One had to be a rapper, club promoter or some sort of “celebrity” mechanic/baker/paperboy in order to feel adequate and to be respected by their peers. Naturally, a man didn’t feel fit to court a woman unless he was a modern day Fop, all accessories and garish clothing and hair. Woman, of course, as it has been through history, reinforced this by showing approval of douchery and rewarding it with affection (read: pussy).
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I hope this answers your question, Angie. Your friend is cute. Cute girls usually hang together, so this leads me to think you are a nice, cornfed cutie and I hope you stay that way. And remember…there is no shame in being with a blue collar man. He won’t hog up all the lotion, he won’t take up all your morning time in front of the mirror, and he won’t insist on tagging along on the girls’ day at the salon.

6:02 pm April, 5 Medusa Oblongata said...

RE Mathematical Pear: Nice caboose, but those thighs could suffocate a rhino.

6:42 pm April, 5 Douchey Lewis and the News said...

memphis doucheworkers local 421
Intelligence, physical strength and skill, humble understated confidence, employability, creativity, artistic ability, observant curiosity, and empathetic altruism.
.
Sadly I have none of these qualities. If broads ever decide they like unemployed 6th year seniors with 35K in student debt then I’m in like a dirty shirt.

7:54 pm April, 5 Wedgie said...

Once in a great while I will take the time to read a lengthy post. And more often than not, they are written by that exquisite redhead from Illinois.
Fuccen-a right, girl.

8:00 pm April, 5 Whoop-Di-Douche said...

Egads, Medusa, at least try living on the North Shore, a far more pleasant place than the Chicago you describe, and a better home base from which to sneak out and enjoy the otherwise earthly pleasures Big Town has to offer.

Oh, and on the Midwestern Douchebaggery photo: someone appears to have dumped turmeric into the sepiatone, probably an Indian-Pakistani food addict, no doubt. That isn’t nearly orange enough to qualify as true-poo.

That Ass-Pear appears to have a case. On her rear.

8:03 pm April, 5 Whoop-Di-Douche said...

Okay, my mistake.
That orange quality is none other than jaundice, or, as my eye doctor describes it, a full-blown case of cataract yellowing minus the blurring.
Too bad.
We don’t need to see douchebags clearly, although the hotts will always need to be in focus.
Unfortunately, that means the pairing is a case of…hocus-focus.

8:12 pm April, 5 memphis doucheworkers local 421 said...

@ Douchey Lewis –

I don’t either, but I’d rather those people pass on their genes than the jerz guids and fish slaps of the world

8:51 pm April, 5 Et Tu Douche? said...

@Medusa
.
Bravo!!!, Bravo!!!! and congrats on the nuptials and shit.

9:20 pm April, 5 DarkSock said...

I would dive to the bottom of the Marianis trench with my air tanks filled with nothing but Mathematical parabola’s farts.

9:24 pm April, 5 We Will, We Will, Mock You! said...

@memphis 421, well said. And then soundly backed up by Medusa. Its a sad state of affairs but this is how the world works. It is up to the ladies. So like some of us have been saying for quite some time its all well and good and downright fun to mock the douchebag, but if he gets to dip his wick in a hot piece of ass on the reg our taunts fall on deaf ears. Mock the chick if you want to shift paradigms…and shit.

10:54 pm April, 5 Douchal Webster said...

For the sake of late-night commentary – Medusa, as usual, has hit the overarching umbrella of idiocy on the head. And if I might say as a regular lurker, I’d rather hang out with her, Marv-Albert style in the corner, while she has her personal pleasures, then swill some fine tequila in offering to her prowess just to hear her after-commentary, because she has thusly placed the modern hott on her pudentatious pedestal of mockery – while fine that peach may be, i suspect a societal worm.

5:30 am April, 6 FoghornLeghorn said...

Medusa @5:27 pm : I teared up reading that.

6:11 am April, 6 Collaz B. Popped said...

Oui oui,,,great stuff on this thread. Well put 421/Medusa.

I got nothing after that, except mathmatical does have some muscular thighs. No escaping those if they are wrapped around you.

7:08 am April, 6 Steve said...

Hey Memphis, Adam Carolla said it better: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iwxZzTjgr9U&feature=related

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