Godammit, I’m Mad!

Tonight, some friends and I were discussing some mutual acquaintances. It emerged that there was some confusion about how to categorize certain types of men we disdain.

To me, a Douche is instantly recognizable as such. He doesn’t have to exhibit any behavior; he’s just a Douche. Sometimes a Douche can increase his douchiness by bad behavior, like John Mayer, but usually it’s a done deal. Keith Urban is a Douche.

So is Pete Wentz and David Duchovny.

Joe Perry ( as per this photo from the American Music Awards show) is a Scumbag.

Whereas, Steven Tyler is a Douche.  Snoop Dogg = Scumbag. Mickey Rourke, another Scumbag.

Trying to think of a Jerk, my first thought was Levi Johnston, god bless him.  Jerks are more innocent than Scumbags or Douches. I even think that a Jerk could be reformable; he could wise up, theoretically anyway. Douches and Scumbags are lost causes.

I used to be able to explain the difference between a Tool and a Jerk, but I honestly can’t remember the criteria. All I remember was that some guy named Jason (who happened to be a fishmonger) was a complete Tool.

Where do you stand on these categories, and who do you think best epitomizes a Douche, Scumbag, Jerk or Tool?

Even in the midst of a crisis, I find I have not lost my ability to Hate! On a brief visit to my own home, I was privileged to catch a performance (on the David Letterman Show) by the stupidest, most awful band in the world. Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros left me with my mouth open in astonishment, after I finished calling them names out loud.

There’s a sickening douche as the front-man, with a creepy horrible girl adding vocals and dancing around like a crazed village idiot. There’s an asshole wearing a bow-tie with a pink shirt, and some other annoying band-members I can’t remember too clearly.

I double dare you to listen to the entire song. It followed me into my bedroom, where I could hear them bleating the stupid refrain over and over and over and over.

YES! I  hate, therefore I am.

As I walked out onto the patio of the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf in Santa Monica, a tall shirtless douche was involved in a contretemps with an elderly woman who was afraid of his dog. He was saying to her, “I told you there’s nothing to be afraid of, now just shut up!”

How rude, I thought as I sat down with my coffee. The douche was returning to his table where he’d been sitting with a girl he just met in the parking lot. They had realized they had a friend in common, “Brian.”

The douche’s dog wandered over to me and I pet its head. “Oh, sorry,” said the douche as he came to get the dog. I gave him a nice smile and said: “You don’t have to be sorry to me!”

At this, he flipped out, screaming, “Hey, I don’t have to be sorry to anyone! I have nothing to be sorry about! I’m here having a great day, I’m enjoying myself, I’m with a beautiful woman!”

I started laughing, and a guy working at a laptop said to the douche, “Stop yelling.” The douche turned to taunt the laptop guy, who muttered, “Psychopath.” “You’re the psychopath!” screamed the douche.

The douche sat down again with the girl, who seemed thrilled by his performance. Together, they phoned the mutual friend to tell him they were together at the Coffee Bean. The douche went back inside to get more coffee while the girl continued on the phone. “Yeah,” she said happily. “He’s GREAT!”

Here they are, above. Reading their body language, I wouldn’t be surprised if she slept with him later that day and he rewarded her by bashing her head in. I can’t even feel sorry for her, you know? You get what you pay for.

*Listen here

~

Amanda Palmer shows attract misfits,
The disenfranchised
Cute gay Latino boy with his Mohawk lover
Noserings must get caught when they kiss

My sons are amped up and ready
One angry about taking off his hat.
The other
Protects me from a big sweaty douche
Who pushes up behind me, up
Against me with his big male self

Amanda is sad about Michael Jackson
But not sentimental
Billie Jean is not the one
But is
The one we want her to sing

She opens her legs at her piano,
Wide open
Creamy thighs like the ones men
Always talk about.

I see for the first time
Why they want to bury their heads there
Amanda works us over like a first rate whore
And delivers us from our petty differences

Even the big fat girl in the wedding dress
Takes on the glow of a martyr in holy communion
With the Source

I feel a Christlike compassion for the fat girl
For the gay boys,
The Goth schoolgirls swaying, arms around each other
The nerd holding up a lighter
But not the big douche.

I’m looking forward to wasting my evening tomorrow, watching the Academy Awards. All I ask is that Mickey Rourke doesn’t win.

But first, let me review The Changeling for anyone who missed it. Not surprisingly, it’s all about Angelina Jolie’s lips. I’m not joking here; the Lips should get an award, but not Angelina, whose acting is painfully bad throughout.

But the Lips! Jesus! They fill the entire shot whenever Angelina appears. Coated in an eerily fluorescent deep red lipstick, they are like a pair of giant blow fish. They look like they have eaten most of her face. In fact, perhaps the Lips are some kind of parasite and her face is the host.

Angelina looks frail and exhausted from hoisting those Lips around from scene to scene, but she gamely tries to act worried and/or miserable by flapping her bony hands.

The movie is congealed in period set decoration, with its escalating melodrama almost secondary to the 20’s era flotsam and jetsam. The story is much darker than I expected, so let this be a warning for anyone sensitive to images of serial killers chasing after little boys with an axe. In the end, the Lips look happy, after all they’ve been through.

Now, as for Mickey Rourke, I haven’t seen The Wrestler but seeing Mickey Rourke win his Golden Globe was more than enough for me. His comeback and his douchey Pimp outfits are way too over-the-top, and it’s making me sick. I can’t remember why we’re supposed to feel sorry for Mickey Rourke! Is it because his acting career flamed out, or because he screwed his face up?  Does anyone remember when he was arrested for beating up his girlfriend?

Just make him go away. His whole stupid Bruised Macho shtick is already old now and it’s time for him to move on. And don’t get me started on that Darren Aronofsky! Ugh! What a fucking cunt ™!  His Movie Requiem for a Dream was a fucking crime against humanity.

Okay, so enjoy the Awards show or just wait for my Awards Show Exegesis on Monday.