HCwDB of the Week: The Trainwreck
Last night I was meditating on all things ‘Bag at my temple, The Church of Latter Day Douche. While chanting Justin Timberlake lyrics and burning Tag Candles to honor The Grieco, I had a thought:
Performative douchosity finds meaning within the gaze of the spectator. It is within this moment, when a camera flashes, when a third party witnesses the Scrote/Hott in stylized douche-action, that ‘bag meaning is both created and validated.
This brings up important theological questions. Can ‘bagosity exist outside of a witness? If a douchebag scrotes in the woods, and no one is there to see it, did he make a hand gesture?
Or perhaps it’s both. Douchosity exists, but when elevated through spectacle, through the gaze, a foregrounded state of douche-meaning is created. A state of hyper-douche. The douchulacrum replaces the real. The spectacle supersedes the actual.
This notion came into play in this week’s voting. People seeemed to instinctively shy away from the singularity of the Johnny Blaze experience and gravitate to the hyper-real yet relatable travesty that was The Trainwreck. The Blaze just seems othered, and with Joey Porsche having stolen that thunder, less unique. Douche-meaning requires the gaze to root within desire. As rage against the douchine puts it:
Plus one for Trainwreck. Not that Blaze doesn’t put up a good fight but the JoeyPorsche look is weak – last week. JP took that look to such an extreme that although this guy is fingernails to my chalkboard, he isn’t “fresh douche”. Douching has a houte couture air about it and Johnny Blaze is last season’s fashion. Trainwreck is “it” right now. The right colors, cuts, and style – and by “colors, cuts, and style” I mean “mandanas, tats, and nipple piercings”. What a loser. The female is a fine candy apple treat that only elevates my diastolic blood pressure when viewing this photo. Douche on Trainwreck, douch on.
Well said, RATD. Another factor that helped The Trainwreck transcend was the the power of the wrist mandana, or “wristdana.” More than a few comments focused on this uberdoucuous accessory. As the vote for scrote lists off the overwhelming elements of the Trainwreck, we can see why it’s this week’s winner:
Wow. Seriously, wow. I can’t begin to point out all the hilarity ensuing in this pic. The double everything in the fridge; the Coke, the eggs, the orange Gatorade, the tits, two for one specials abound. But it comes down to this: back in my punk rock days I was into Suicidal Tendencies. Trainwreck is the evil twin of their lead singer. So I have to go with Trainwreck. And the flex. What an a@hole.
Although ‘Bagfoot came in a distant third, he still found his admirers. And by admirers, I mean revulsed and horrified spectators. anonymous sums up the ‘Bagfoot’s scrote, and in an average week, ‘Bagfoot would probably have won:
gotta go for bagfoot. his hair could pierce the walls of fort knox. his happy easter colors ensemble… his bling… his dogtags… his affected pout… and finally, his eyebrows. OH, the eyebrows. so groomed, so arched, so precise… so sad.
But while many are making the case for Johnny Blaze for the Hall of Scrote, and he may well get there (lets give it a few weeks), it was Trainwreck with a convincing win. And by convincing, I mean orange gatorade. As aging hippie liberal douche puts it:
Trainwreck wins, because I refuse to admit that Bagfoot exists.
And to think Trainwreck won before I posted his recurrance in pic #2, Boatwreck. That’s a pretty convincing victory. And over Johnny Blaze, no less. Good on you, Trainwreck. It’s gotta be the wristdana.
Excellent work once again in a hilarious comments thread. Was Johnny Blaze beaten by his echoing of the superior Joey Porsche? Did ‘Bagfoot’s freakishness simply place him outside of relatable douchuousness? And is The Trainwreck a marker that we should all lock ourselves in our basements and pray for locusts?
Raise the Trainwreck to the rafters, fellow ‘bag hunters and boobies, and we’ll see him in the Monthly.
