Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Hot Chicks with Douchebags After Douchebags

A little over a year ago I ended this blog as a daily force for douche mock.  

After eight years of glorious dissection of the choady/cutie dialectics, I felt I had said all there is to say about hottie/douchey cohabit.

My rants had been forced to give way to little more than idle chit-chat in a post-douchebag world.

The word itself, “douchebag,” that I had so carefully and lovingly developed to mean something specific (a preening tool using spectacle to try to attract a mate), gave way to overuse and linguistic slippage. A million HCwDB-inspired ‘douchebag’ memes were started (aka stolen) by a million wannabe mockers. The word lost all importance. Enough to make Chomsky blush.

As Ed Hardy and douche face and stupid selfies faded, as cheesy facial fung and orange spray tans and ninny hair receded like Antarctic snow, the douche blended and molded into hipster wash. The obvious mock was no more.

But I still wonder what if.

I sit and pensively sip my Mr. Pibb. I perch on the veranda overlooking my alpaca sex farm. And I ruminate on the increasing importance of culture mock in a post-individual blend of Reddit/Nerdist blandness, sameness and genericism.

Where are the next generation of cultural critics and woodland creature fetishists to rage against the pop culture vortex of industrial acquiescence?

Can we find these voices any more in the age when Buzzfeed listicles substitute for thought? Where fake-nerd comic book men-in-tights CGI spectacles substitute for character, narrative, and plot? When Jimmy Fallon dances in pre-packaged viral bits set to random 1980s one hit wonders because he knows aging Xers will circulate any form of 1980s nostalgia? When all our male movie stars are 30-something Germanic Aryan Teutons named “Chris” or “Chad” and all our female movie stars refuse to let me powder their knee muffins with talcum and spittle?

I do not have the answer to these questions.

I only know that douchemockery must continue in some form. If for no other reason than to critique and overturn the assumptions that cultural dictates are inherent rather than learned.

My rumination and isolation, like Yoda by way of Siddhartha, continues.

But more to come.