That Not So Fresh Feeling: Douchebags On Parade

Types. Everyone has one. Everyone is one.

The Boy Next Door. The Dreamboat. Mr. Right. Mr. Vain. Big, Dumb and Slutty. Every cliché exists in life. Some lose ground and become merely quaint. Others gather stream and become iconic. The It Type of the moment: Douchebags. They’re everywhere, and this emerging new type is easy to nail but hard to nail down. Not soulful, tortured or cool enough to be true Bad Boys and too oversexed to be geeks, it seems to be sheer unwarranted self-belief in all-consuming ego that drives them. Hollywood — the lodestar of all that we love and loathe sexually — is churning these dipwads out by the bucketful. With a sea of Summer’s Eve to wade through, how ever does one choose the pioneers?

Now, for your pleasure and edification, the definitive Top Ten Guide to the Douchebag Pantheon featuring a dazzling array of deluded D-bags not soon forgotten:

10. Wilmer Valderrama: Fun-Sized Douche

Like technically hot-from-the-neck down Dax Shepard and Sean “I couldn’t decide on a first name” William Scott, Wilmer is yet another Ashton Kutcher douche protégé. Wilmer really went against type on That ’70s Show by playing a petit, fey man-child with a strange name who could only get young women who had terrible emotional problems to spread for him. His real claim to fame is his role as Hollywood’s preeminent Virgin Surgeon.

All manner of unsuspecting young starlets are drawn to his magnetic douchiness. Either that or his immense tool, which Wilmer is always happy to boast about. Quoth the douche: “Honestly, I’ve been very blessed. This is the place where I will tell you, yes, I am cursed with this gift. It’s over 8 inches.” Who in their right mind wouldn’t want to be deflowered by this sawed-off lothario so that he can later rate you on a scale of 1 to 10? Fate has smiled again on Wilmer as he’s now essaying the role he was born for: portraying Francis “Ponch” Poncherello in the upcoming C.H.I.P.s remake, a part once made famous by his predecessor douche equivalent Erik Estrada.

9. Jesse Metcalfe: “They’re Not Real!” Douche

Few douchebags can elicit the visceral disdain that doe-eyed, immaculately eye-browed, top-heavy Jesse Metcalfe does. It’s as if every one of his attributes were created to trigger maximum pretty boy punchability. Jesse revealed his God-given talent of being able to smile while shirtless and pushing a lawn mower on some dumbass show that was supposed to be all about the female experience but was really just another haggy nighttime soap. Five whole fucking minutes of notoriety in the form of a bomb teen movie and rehab followed. So now it’s reinvention time.

Jesse tried the macho approach, which ultimately amounted to not waxing for some awesome photos of himself draped over a sports car wearing three-quarter length shorts (tailor-made douche apparel) and holding a cig (oooh, edge) for what looks like a five-years-too-late Fast & The Furious audition. Then he got bitch-slapped to the pavement by a British rapper and ruptured his pec implants. Now only a music career is the last exit on the train leading to gay porn. Promises Jesse: “I think a lot of people will be surprised to learn that I actually have talent. People are going to be shocked by my first album. It’s going to reveal my unseen mature side and I’ve even co-written some of the songs… I think I could be the next James Blunt.” We’re already reserving space on our CD racks between our DeBarge and Color Me Badd albums.

8. Ashton Kutcher: Fountain of Douche

There may come a day when scientists will be able to pinpoint exactly what makes Ashton a wellspring of douchey virulence and why all who come in contact with him succumb to douche fever. Theories abound. Is he truly the Douchoid Mary vector who virally transmits the D-Bag contagion, or is he some sort of highly-functioning protozoan that can asexually self-replicate? Either way, quarantine is clearly the only response. At the helm of the daringly original (as in shamelessly redundant) Punk’d, Ashton — seemingly afflicted with Tourette’s Syndrome — wore an endless supply of trucker hats, made annoying gestures with his hands, yelled a lot, and tried in vain to legitimize fellow douche Dax Shepard.

As the breakout “star” of That ’70s Show, he met his other go-to bagman Wilder Valderramma. Reportedly, cute and soft-spoken Topher Grace was so overwhelmed by the smell of vinegar coming from the rest of the series’s male cast (not to mention the dulcet tones of Ashton;s unmodulated yelling) that he couldn’t wait to bail out. Lately, Ashton seems to be drifting. His wildly entertaining romantic comedies involve him playing the same part ad nauseum, and he seems utterly miscast in any serious role that requires him to emote or frown. What’s a douche to do? Why marry a much nip/tucked actress, become a doting father to children that are practically the same age as you, and use your influence to propel stunning starlet Rumer Willis to the fourth spot in People’s 100 Most Beautiful, of course.

7. Brody Jenner: Daddy’s Boy Douche

Sucking at the douchey teat of Nepotism, self-branded “Prince of Malibu” Brody Jenner‘s very essence radiates his “My daddy was in Can’t Stop The Music, bitch!” superiority. Yes, he gives good stubble and looks like Matthew Fox‘s younger brother, but his dead Michael Myers eyes reveal the yawning void within. His love could never extend more than two inches beyond his own nose, and his stabs at stardom involve nothing more than just being Brody.

At least his daddy Bruce declared his personal struggle with dyslexia on a very special episode of Silver Spoons; Brody’s first reality show lasted and epic two episodes and MTV is currently laboring to make him seem remotely fascinating in his new series Bromance, in which young men vie to become members of his entourage by seeing who can withstand the most douche bukkake as Brody jacks off about the great love of his life: himself. His supreme moment of douchedom? Either getting his own moniker tattooed on his torso or posing shirtless on his birthday invite (party sponsored by Alchemy Polish Vodka) with said tattoo bared proudly to the world. Now that’s a douche who commits.

6. Mario Lopez: Vanity, Thy Name is Douche

If Mario Lopez wasn’t destined for C-list oblivion, he’d be a high priced escort, pool boy, or cruise ship dance instructor. Teen star of what’s widely deemed one of the worst young adult series in history, Mario’s niche has always hearkened back to the days of ’70s “personalities” who excelled at playing themselves. Alas, he was born too late to be Charo‘s ideal love interest on The Love Boat or to be acquaintance-raped by Paul Lynde backstage of Hollywood Squares. Still, it’s a long way from Frommage Icon to Body Perfect Douche, and only Mario’s profound love of fondling his own pneumatic bod and letting every doable piece of trim from the Miss USA Pageant to Hooters help him propelled him to that state of grace. We picture sex with Mario as being not unlike Christian Bale‘s immortal call girl double-teaming in American Psycho: lots of Big M giving himself the thumbs-up as he poses to display his best pump while the women are utterly irrelevant, half-asleep, and wondering where their lives went wrong.

5. Jeremy Piven: Method Douche

Like contrived vixen Kim Cattrall, Jeremy’s path to stardom involved landing a star-making turn of playing an irredeemable douche on TV and then proceeding to become the character in reality. Pre-Entourage, Jeremy was always hot, beefy, hirsute and, bald in the good way. Success can be a real bitch goddess though, and a little recognition after years of playing second banana went to his head like a grand mal seizure. Metrosex duds, fair weather sluts, and an assortment of rugs that would make even Nick Cage blanch ensued. Longtime boyfriend John Cusack hit the bricks too because he couldn’t bear the constant body waxings and having to 3-way with a Golden Globe. Piven’s moment of douche critical mass: being banned from Nobu after leaving a DVD of his series on the table. As a tip. The future must hold a dire karmic comeuppance. Piven currently has an editor’s rating of 81 on pathetic man-child bastion AskMen.com — as perfect a barometer of douchosity as there’ll ever be.

4. Dane Cook: Slap The Douche

Why does Dane Cook want to hurt us? Douchiness tends to be merely distracting, but sometimes it can be so excruciating that it should require a holster and a license. Everything about Dane results in debilitating agony for the beholder. There’s the array of unwatchable feature films that make Brazilian snuff movies seem preferable. He has “that” haircut, a perpetual smirk of undeserved self-satisfaction, and his trademark “Brace yourself for my awesomeness!” gesticulations.

Dane’s comedy act amounts to essentially what can be termed a barrage of unrelated spasms, pacing, teeth-gnashing, shouting, and too much hair product that circles the runway and never finds a punchline. Did Dane’s cerebellum fuse or did he just go off Ritalin cold turkey? Rumored to be utterly intolerable and universally loathed on the comedy circuit (not just for stealing material from other acts, but for giving women lifts home, only to then drop his zipper and utter “You’re welcome”), Dane’s other notable contribution in life has now become orthodox to the Douche Canon: sticking his dick in a Simpson sister and dumping her ass minutes later.

3. Spencer Pratt: D-List Douche

Abortion survivor Spencer Pratt embodies a highly-specified variety of douchebaggery — the moneyed, West Coast, stardom-at-any-cost entitlement MTV is intent on bottling and force-feeding down the gullets of every American youth under twenty-five. Soul-deficient, talent-free Spencie really, really craves stardom, and being raised on a combination of too few childhood beatings and too much Sunny Delight prepared him for that arduous climb to the Valley of The Douchebags. There’s no such thing as bad press for Spencie — sole acolyte of a self-made shrine of all his press coverage — who’s known for referring to himself in the third person as “Team Spencer,” which would indicate Multiple Personality Disorder if we believed for even a second that he even had one.

Every photo of Spencie and his horse-faced true love resembles those cloying inserts featuring white bread, mannequin-like JC Penny models included with picture frames. If there’s a God, he’ll jump at the chance to grab up the offer extended to him by Eurotrash porn doyen Michael Lucas to make his gay porn debut, so that we can achieve ours of watching him labor through rudimentary porn dialogue and ultimately race down the aisle at the AVNs like Stephen Boyd in The Oscar to accept the award for Best Double Penetration, only to have all his dreams shattered when he realizes they’ve called out Erik Rhodes‘s name instead

2. John Mayer: Literate Douchebag

So you’re John Mayer. You’re passably good-looking, go multi-platinum even though we don’t know anyone who owns one your CDs, and have a signature song that’s essentially a smarmy pickup line disguised as a love ballad. Do you play it safe and thank your lucky stars, or do who tempt fate by becoming so full of yourself that you can’t even Google your own name without finding the word “Douchebag” attached? Don’t get us wrong, John. We love your rambling, self-serving blog entries wherein you try to convince the world that you’re not a self-obsessed dick … by going on and on about yourself in self-obsessed dick fashion. We can’t get enough of your I’m-so-over-it-all baiting of the media or your failed attempts to reveal what a cut-up you are, like that time you were presented with a T-shirt reading “Douchebag” from an admirer and you scribbled “Bad Ass” over it before proudly donning it. We think it’s great that you’ve usurped Lenny Kravitz‘s title as the most rode-hard musician who’s bucked off every chick in Hollywood. We just ask that you not dragoon your friends, publicists, and every other underling in sight into leaking tidbits to the media about what a fabulous, life-changing, earth-shattering lay you are. We might get the wrong idea and think your ironic stance is really just camouflage for a sore asshole in dire need of a cool flushing out.

1. David Caruso: Extra Strength Diet Coke Douche

In theory, being a douche is a state of self for men that should be outgrown. For terrifying redhead David Caruso, being Supreme Douche above all others was a life goal he grew into. Legend has it that his birth was the result of a three-minute union between a spooge mop and a popper-mad Howdy Doody puppet on the floor of the TomKat theater. Against all odds, he ascended from working actor to incomprehensible sex symbol on NYPD Blue before — in what’s universally classified as the second dumbest career move ever made in Hollywood — quitting the series to pursue big screen success in the form of thrill-less action movies and action-free erotic thrillers. By the time he managed to crawl back to TV Land, it was a barely-kept industry secret that he’d offer up any or all of his orifices to be crammed bareback by any exec who could get him a gig as corpse on Law & Order.

Somehow, landing a key role at the helm of the first of eighty CSI spin-offs didn’t humble David, though. When he isn’t bullying directors and driving out co-stars, he’s known to demand a constant supply of Diet Coke (termed his “acting juice”) to fuel his performances. David doesn’t so much act as he does bask in his own brilliance that’s imperceptible to every other form of life. His style involves … saying … every … single … fucking… line… in an identical halting rasp while he puts his hands on his hips and takes off his sunglasses as if he’s parting the Red Sea. Like any great narcissist, he assumes parodies of his soul-deadening scenery chewing to be flattery, and the Peoples Temple-style cult that believes him to be genius …or perhaps even God himself… won’t have its faith shaken. Who are we to argue? Until a shrewd backstabber pushes him down the stairs, La Caruso snatches the tiara as Queen of the Nozzle Heads.