You might be a douchebag

Before anyone says it, let me acknowledge that, yes, this is hardly the most original topic for me to cover.  Thousands have tread the same ground.  You know who else did that?  Shakespeare.  Motherfucker didn't use a single original idea, and he still slays high school through doctoral-level English literature classes like a total Renaissance G.

What?  That's what methought, trollop.

That said, let's do this, America.

These days, the term "douchebag" is thrown about willy-nilly, applied to any male exhibiting mildly dickish behavior and even used ironically by obvious douchebags like Kanye West in their music.  I have heard the label generically applied to emo-kids, snobbish business-types, and even women (the proper technical term being "bitch, "cunt," or, if you want to groundlessly question her sexual habits, any derivation of "whore").  This cannot continue if we are to address the very real problem of epidemic douchebaggery.  Back In The Day, the word had a more specific meaning, coined to describe a largely new type of self-deluded, insufferable asshole the world had not previously seen, the origin of which remains a mystery to modern science.

I have my theories.

Unlike the wiggers, preps, wannabes, hipsters, and metrosexuals of yore (*bonus points if you actually remember those terms*), the modern douchebag does not seem to be actively imitating any existing subculture or precedent other than his own cohort of like-minded idiots.  If anything, he takes tiny elements from all of them, with a healthy dose of Gay, and a strange alchemical fusion occurs, creating some of the most laughably pretentious and ludicrous "human beings" to walk (or, more appropriately, strut) the earth.  These guys feel the irresistible compulsion to irradiate themselves to Chernobyl levels, wear clothing that makes a Macy's Easter Sale look ultra-masculine, and flash meaningless hand-signs whenever a camera is on them.

And the scariest part?

You just might be one without knowing it.  Hard to believe, isn't it?  But, just like contracting AIDS, it can happen to anyone if they are not careful.  Except me.  I'm not a complete retard.  Since I am blessed with a discerning wit and an inexplicable humanitarian streak, I am going to help you, the masses, recognize and avoid the epithet that equates you with a vaginal cleansing product.  You're welcome.

Warning Sign 1: Improper Use of Sunglasses

This is a newer one, the latest development in super-douchey moves.  It's a real fashion statement.  The statement, unfortunately, is, "I need a curb-stomping.  Bad."  When not being used to block harmful solar rays from your precious baby-blues, your sunglasses belong in one of four places: (1) on top of your head, (2) hanging from the front of your shirt-collar, (3) in your breast-pocket, or (4) not on your person.  Otherwise, you are just asking to have them put a fifth place: up your ass.  It should go without saying that this is sartorially-reprehensible:

Don't look at me that way.

Yet I see men doing it.  Otherwise normal-looking men.  Personally, I find that terrifying, because it signals a societal acceptance of one of the stupidest trends I have ever seen.  And I lived through the 80s.  I even saw a customer at work with his sunglasses hanging from the back of his collar.  I consulted my Bible, but this is somehow not a portent of the Apocalypse.  I can only pray to Chic Jesus this does not catch on as well.  I mean, in all seriousness, what the fuck?  Who decided this was all right to do?  Oh, yeah, the Food Network's Orange County Choppers reject, Guy Fieri.

Do you really want to emulate this bag of cocks?

Warning Sign 2: Chronic Popped Collar Syndrome

It's cliche because it's true, kids.  You pop your collar, you become Insta-Douche.  From zero to douchebag in .50 seconds.  David Blaine himself will be astounded at your feat of magically-pretentious doucheification.  Truly, I cannot stress this enough, because I see it more than most any other sign, and not one goddamned swinging dick on the planet can make it look less than monumentally douchey.  Have I employed enough variations of "douchebag" in this paragraph to make my point clear?  The fact that I even have to point this out is physically sickening to me, and threatens to implode my mind.

Welcome to Douchebag City, population: your stupid ass.  Seriously, though, burn in hell.

You are not an 80s Corey, the Fonze, or Dracula.  Turn that thing down, because it's blaring, "mock the shit out of me" at full volume.  It's become an Internet meme to post photos of yourself with as many simultaneously-popped collars as possible, for the love of Prada.  What else do you need to know?  You can't pull it off, trust me.  The only time a popped collar is quasi-acceptable is on a coat or jacket, and even then, use with caution.  To be on the safe side, make sure you're wielding a pair of fully-automatic assault pistols, and possibly a katana, while doing it.  When in doubt, don't.  Your unborn children will thank you down the line.

Warning Sign 3: Excessive Bluetooth Usage

Remember 20 years ago, when Star Trek: The Next Generation was the coolest thing on TV and everyone wanted to look just like a roboticized zombie-clone member of the Borg?  No?  Maybe that's because it never was cool.  And it's not much cooler now.

"Dude, Borg-Picard is the shiznit!"

The idea behind Bluetooth technology is laudable.  It's intended to prevent car accidents by freeing up drivers' hands to operate iPods while cruising the back-lanes at 60 mph.  Or something.  The reality, of course, is that anyone who buys a headset, now that they are cheaper than Yoko Ono jokes, forgets how to use an actual cellular telephone and is assimilated into the Doucheborg Collective.  Remember Beeper Guy, circa 1991, or Righteously Self-Important Businessman With Zack Morris-Style Brick Phone?  That's you now, Bluetooth-user.  Congratulations.  The irony is, I get the distinct impression the people who spend the most time talking loudly into thin air, confusing bystanders and appearing mentally unstable, are the ones with the least to say.  Call it a hunch.

Are.  You.  Serious?  Douchebag hat-trick!

Speaking of which . . .

Warning Sign 4: Hat and/or Visor Abuse

It takes the right man to wear a hat in the first place.  Honestly, think about your male friends (assuming you have any) and you'll realize what most people already subconsciously do - some guys can pull off the hat look, others cannot.  It's a basic principle of fashion science.

Johnny Depp, for instance, wears the shit out of any hat.

But, even if you are a genuine Hat Man, that does not give you free license to wear headgear in any way you damn well see fit.  While a fedora like the one Mr. Depp is rocking above can be worn at a slight angle, because it's a fucking fedora, you should not attempt any similar cant with your favorite college sports team cap.  It's like the baseball coach's sign for "douchebag trying to steal any base" (ha, sports-sex crossover humor!).  This is doubly true for visors of any description.

Meditate on that, Buddhadouche.

In fact, let's just unilaterally declare visor usage is now and forever restricted to the links, the clay, and the felt, where it belongs.  That 3-month span of 1999 is over, after all.

Warning Sign 5: Color Uncoordination

Take a quick look inside you pants.  Is there a penis there?  With gonads?  Ok, then give Don Johnson back his cotton candy pink V-neck so that he has something to wear under his white blazer.  I know I'm going to get berated for this, but I have a website on the Internet, so I am right.  Men, as a rule, should not wear pink unless they are actively soliciting anal sex.  Lighter shades of purple are questionable enough, but pink is just plain out, in more ways than one.  Can some guys wear it?  Yes, but why risk it?  Odds are, you look better in virtually any other color.  This may actually be more a case of effect than cause - wearing a pink shirt didn't originally make you a douchebag, but so many douchebags now favor the color that they have effectively decimated what little credibility it had.

Your rebuttal was going to be . . . ?

And, at the risk of sounding more than a bit queer myself, pink generally looks terrible with fake-bake tans and spray-on bronzers anyway.  Orange and pink don't mix, Mr. GTL.  For every one man I have seen who looks respectable in pink, I have encountered roughly three-dozen who redline my Douche-O-Meter.  Call me traditional, chauvinistic, or narrow-minded, but there is a reason gender-color identifications are beaten into our psyches from birth: when you wear pink, you look like a pussy.

So, with that said, I hope you are better-prepared to identify the signs of douchebaggery and take appropriate remedial actions.  Together, we can check the spread of this vile blight on our society, showing the world that, while the USA may be the leading producer of ignorant assholes, even we know it's wrong to take a bull's load to the face and use it as styling product.  And to any douchebags who may cross my path . . .

Here's my Situation. (go ahead, click my image, dumbass.)