The 'Bag Hunters
So, on this weekend after Thanksgiving, I return to the eternal question. Why hunt douchebags and the hotties that love them?
We hunt the ‘bag because we hunt ourselves. We hunt the hott because we love boobies.
In their distorted image, in their ridiculous clownishness, we see the fun-house mirror reflection of our own vanities. Our societal insecurities. Our collective garish absurdities.
I mean look at this guy. His shirtlessness of the soul. His vacant “duuuude” stare. The slutt-hott on his arm. The Puma wristband. God just deducted two points from your score for that alone, bud.
In their swirling cocktail of foul cultural rot, in that psychoanalytic space between cutie and douche, we find beauty and truth.
Oh who am I kidding.
We like to mock choads because they suck monkey poo. Pass the damn turkey.
