Douchebags can come in a variety of forms: Alpha Douche, Beta Douche, Smug Douche, Pansy Douche, Corporate Douche, Cross fit Douche, etc. No matter what breed of Douche we’re dealing with, one common truth remains: we love to hate them. Here is a list of 10 of Hollywood’s Douche Elite we sadly couldn’t live without.
Glenn Gulia, The Wedding Singer
“Hey, asswipe, don’t go snitching to Julia about this. I know you got a little crush on her, but you gotta face the facts: she’d rather go to bed with a REAL man. Not some poor singing orphan.”
Glenn is a calculated douchebag. Like he’s the type of dude who compliments his girl’s mom on her interior design, talks to her dad about investment opportunities, and then bangs lines of coke off her little sister’s night stand. He is an advanced breed, an Alpha Douche. His charm gets him into the good graces of people that matter, but it also gets him into the waitress at his girlfriend’s birthday dinner. Odds are right now he’s trying to have sex with his kid’s babysitter. Your typical wolf in douche clothing. And his name is Glenn so he comes from a long line of douchebags. His poor son, Chad, doesn’t stand a chance.
Jerry, Liar Liar
Your prototypical Beta Douche. This guy is definitely career oriented and has a super clean condo, but you know when that shirt comes off, he’s the definition of skinny fat. The only exercise this dude gets is running into Brooks Brothers on Black Friday to beat the rush. Although, he is in a coed softball league and the outfielders take a few steps in when Jerry steps into the box. That is the only context where Jerry ever steps into a box. He also has that really frustrating haircut that you see in those 90’s haircut picture books at the old school barber shops that doesn’t even look like it’s been cut. That shit makes me skin crawl. I’ve gotta give him some credit though, his patience is admirable for attempting to be a step-father for that little shit, Max. You want to be Jose Conseco, little guy? You don’t need a dad all you need is a steroid needle and a spray tan. Quit your bitchin, there’s no crying in baseball.
Eric Gordon, Billy Madison (Photo At Top)
“Well, ‘sorry’ doesn’t put the Triscuit crackers in my stomach now, does it Carl?”
Fact: If your hair slicks back without the use of gel, you’re undoubtedly a douchebag. There are zero exceptions. When your default outfit is a suit and you look weird in normal person clothes, you officially have zero chill. My worst fear is walking into an interview and seeing Gordon’s smug face waiting to tear me a new orifice. He’s the dick who has his diploma framed on the wall above his desk and calls you “pal” because he didn’t bother learning your name. There may not be a spot at Madison Hotels for Gordon, but he’s got a corner office in Douche Hell. Also, his real name is Bradley Whitford. I rest my case.
Michael Bolton Doppelganger, Good Will Hunting
“Yeah, but I will have a degree. And you’ll be servin’ my kids fries at a drive-thru on our way to a skiing trip”
Probably the one on the list that is most like his character in real life. You don’t rock a perfect pony tail that seamlessly by accident. You’re born with it. The only thing Bolton needed to change for this role was his underwear. I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t even know they were shooting. There’s something about this dude’s look that makes me wish the worst for him. Maybe he adopts puppies or sponsors children in the Congo, but it’s not because he’s a good guy, it’s so he has something to talk about with Minnie Driver at the bar and to embarrass Ben Affleck. He’s a snake in Jos. A Bank clothing.
Sack Lodge, Wedding Crashers
“I hunt quail, Jeremy. They’re overpopulated in this region and they’re decimating the grubworm population. You got a fucking problem with that?”
An Alpha Douche (see: Glenn Gulia) with an impressive resume. Handsome, decorated athlete, Ivy League smarts, wealthy father. Throw all these ingredients in a blender with Kale leaves and you get a Douche Smoothie. I do respect his aggressiveness on the football field, even if it is a friendly family game. This past Thanksgiving I came in like a bat out of hell and concussed my cousin Andy, knocked him out of the game and almost out of his wheelchair. I guess he’ll think twice about wheeling over the middle next time. But our shared tenacity and addiction to winning is where our similarities end. Sack is a Grade A douche who is allergic to emotions. I sobbed last night during Extreme Makeover Home Edition.
Shooter McGavin, Happy Gilmore
“Damn you people. Go back to your shanties.”
McGavin is a shoe-in for the Douchebag Mount Rushmore. Cocky, smug, plays golf, eats pieces of shit for breakfast. Growing up, I was kind of pulling for McGavin after he soaked Happy with that 9th Green at 9 prank. Genius. If you’ve ever had the exhausting experience of being in a golf clubhouse, the McGavin douchery is in full force. Old guys retelling stories of clutch putts and shitty golf jokes, praising Phil Mickelson for being a “family man” while they stare at the 16 year old cart girl’s ass. The only difference is only one of them is driving away drunk with the green jacket: Shooter. Choke on it, babayy.
Kevin Rawley, Meet the Parents
“I guess I would have to say Jesus. He was a carpenter, and I just figured if you’re going to follow in someone’s footsteps, who better than Christ?”
Kevin represents a growing breed of Hippie Douche that is infesting our major cities. The dude with a wide variety of hobbies and skills and loves to talk about them. The classic one-upper. Kevin it’s really impressive that you hand-carved this alter from an old seaman’s chapel in Nantucket, but I whittled this gravity bong from a 5 gallon Poland Springs jug. Let’s call it a draw. A part of me envies his craftsmanship, but no one envies Kevin more than Kevin, so fuck that guy. Kevin, for your next project, I think you should stitch yourself a backpack out of fine Egyptian cotton. We’ll call it a Douchebag.
Bill Lumbergh, Office Space
“Oh, and remember: next Friday… is Hawaiian shirt day. So, you know, if you want to, go ahead and wear a Hawaiian shirt and jeans.”
Maybe the worst type of Douche: The Corporate Douche. There are varying degrees of Lumbergh’s in every office of America. Every day you’re reminded that your livelihood rests in the hands of the kid who sat alone at lunch. The dude who sucked at baseball but got to pitch because his dad was the coach grew up to dictate how much food you could afford to put on the table. Sure, you may lack a little focus and direction in your “career”, but by no standard did you deserve to be talked down to by the guy who drives a PT Cruiser. I know it’s been years, but one day you will break free from his Iron Fist. Until then, make sure you drop those TPS reports on his desk pronto.
White Goodman, Dodgeball
“Hey, Rory. Looking good. Here at Globo Gym, we understand that “Ugliness” and “Fatness” are genetic disorders, much like baldness or necrophilia, and it’s only your fault if you don’t hate yourself enough to do something about it.”
The Founding Father of today’s Cross fit Douchebags. Goodman’s the old guy at the gym with the hoop earring whose in really good shape and no one’s quite sure why or for what. He only starts conversations in the locker room when he’s ass naked and still manscapes for some reason. He has the obnoxiously loud Mustang and hits on chicks half his age by butchering old pick-up lines. The best advice for this type of Douchebag would simply be: Do Less.
JP, Grandma’s Boy
“Adios, turd nuggets!”
Sunglasses indoors, long black trench coat, talks to himself in the third person: you’re either a school shooter or Douchebag. JP’s the kind of dude you’d try to cheat off of in Computer Science but would cover up his paper, then show up to your party that night only to call the cops when everyone ignores him. A part of you feels bad for him because you get the sense that something went terribly wrong in his childhood, but a Douche is a Douche and you don’t have the time or the energy to play Dr. Phil. The poor guy is just a little misguided and it would be in his best interest if you constantly reminded him he was being a Douche. Unfortunately, today that’s called “bullying”.