On douchebags

I'm in a pretty good mood today, so I don't want to dwell on douchebags too terribly much. Still, let me say that they are truly a stain.

Last night I met my friends to see Pong play a patio party at some terrible bar on West Sixth Street, and then I went over to Emo's to see Gang of Four. Between those two events, I believe I have exceeded my douchebag quota for the decade.

I saw so very many douchebags out last night, you guys. It was Douche City. Everywhere I turned, there were douchebags. Douchebags milling about, douchebags jostling and braying and being overly hearty, condescending, and self-congratulatory. It was overwhelming.

I am determined not to let the douchebags of the world spoil my good time, and I can usually achieve this by ignoring or avoiding them. Unfortunately, big rock shows and faux-classy bars are pure douchebait. And because douchebags are so unselfconsciously douchey, it's impossible to completely ignore them because they loudly spew the fine mist of their douche essence all over anyone within earshot. And douche mist doesn't just slide off. It works its way into your pores and it festers until you are irritable and uncomfortable and you start to feel bitter and self-righteous, rolling your eyes and making shitty little cracks to your friends. You may then begin to worry that you're a bit of a douchebag yourself, and a hypocrite to boot. After all, who are you to criticize?

But you shouldn't do that to yourself. No. They started it, and you are right to mock and despise them.

If you're not a douchebag, I'd like to thank you. The relative taste, restraint, and manners you exhibit make this world a better place. And, because of people like you, I had a great time last night, douchebags be damned.