The Douchiest Thing You Will Ever See

Normally I’d demand to know how I missed this last week, but considering that it happened on the Arsenio Hall show and I was under the impression that hadn’t been on in two decades or so, maybe I can’t be blamed. What’s interesting, though, is that even taking that into consideration, you’d think I would’ve noticed the sun being blacked out and the entire universe swallowing itself as it all tumbled over the event horizon into an endless void of inescapable doucheness.

Last Thursday, Arsenio hosted world’s biggest douche and the man whose sperm mutated into America’s most virulent sexually transmitted disease, Billy Ray Cyrus. He asked about Miley, giving Billy Ray a chance to simultaneously revel in the relevance his daughter has provided him the last several years while appearing to express concern, as any Christian father would, over her recent decision to become a black prostitute.

Then, in case that wasn’t enough to make your intestines wind their way up through your esophagus in an effort to mercifully throttle your brain, Arsenio allowed Billy Ray to put his what-Tampa-thinks-L.A.-dresses-like-meets-Grizzly-Adams look to good use by having him emote his way through some song of his. It sounds like Staind, Daughtry, Nickelback — any of those bands that continue to be sustained entirely by the worship of the girlfriends of gas station attendants in Texas.

So perform Billy Ray did, and somewhere, children cried and Mensa spontaneously combusted. A few of the Seals were broken, probably up to the one having to do with the black horse and the scale. But then, 2-minutes and 36-seconds in, all hell really did break loose. Because that’s when, out of the darkness, Fred Durst appeared and started rapping. And behold, it was the single douchiest moment that’s ever occurred in the history of mankind — a confluence of douchery so massively douchey that it constitutes a kind of Extinction Level Event in the annals of doucheness. A “Douchepocalypse,” if you will.

Watch if you can. I fucking dare you.

As one commenter to this YouTube video said so perfectly: Where’s Al Qaeda when you need them?

Chez Pazienza was the beating heart of The Daily Banter, sadly passing away on February 25, 2017. His voice remains ever present at the Banter, and his influence as powerful as ever.