I wonder if he has actually seen her face. Somethings are very distracting, "what were you saying"
 

The slap!!!!!!! no there can only be one slap...THE FISH SLAP!!!!!!!!!
 

he gently whispers "do you feel that?"
she replies "no, what do you mean?"
dejected yet quickly he replies "uh, my heart beat, of course"
she retorts "it's OK, you have a little dick, no big deal!"

I call him.. Shrimpy Douche.

-Choad the Wet Sprocket
 

That's twice this week that I've seen guys posted here that don't actually have any of the marks of the 'bag.

We may dislike the fact that the guy's got a hot asian on his lap and we don't, but I don't see a mandana, any guyliner, a hand gesture, an orange tan, spikey or otherwise ridiculous hair, dog tags, jesus bling, his shirt appears to be buttoned up properly...

Are we just calling any guy hanging out with a hot chick a douchebag now?

I'm not necesarily defending this guy, because who gives a shit about him. But we have to be careful how we level the charge of douchebaggery. If we just wave it around and call every guy we see a douchebag, then the word loses its potency. When it becomes the ubiquitous, all-encompassing derogatory term for any guy we see, then it loses its meaning. Over time, through common-usage, the term will become so diluted that future generations will not even know what we meant when we called someone a douchebag. They won't understand that it has specific connotations. Much like the word "agnostic" in modern times, "douchebag" may just come to mean whatever the hell the future user decides it means. And as such, the power of word and the shame it lies upon those truly deserving of it becomes lost to the winds of time.

We must take care in our application of the word. For posterity!
 

There once was this dirty ol' chap,
Whose face with a fish I did slap,
Til his eyes rolled back
Then I romped with Hott in the sack
And I got what he gave her, the clap.

*practice for tomorrow*
 

I see markers of douche. Tilted back melon, half-closed eyes with smug pre-kissy lips. Unless you are stoned, you cannot do that without being a douche.

In combo with the chin fungus and mandatory douche striped shirt, I think there is sufficient evidence to conclude -- douche. Maybe not the biggest douche in the world, but a special douche in his own way.
 

No ear bling. No dog tags. Too much hair. Not Fish Slap.

Definitely a douche, however.
 

Mmmmm... Love the brunette. That is a good lookin' girl. Damned photographer cut the photo a few inches short at the bottom.

Other than the itty-bitty, teeny schmear on his chin and the smug look, this guy isn't very douchey at all. But I understand why it was posted by DB1. He does look like Fish Slap's less... flamboyant brother.
 

it's not the fish...no eyebrow tick marks and no nose ring...and his nose itself is way smaller than the real fish...plus he is clean shaven with sideburns...just another plain old douche
 

Certainly seems like a Slap Wannabe. Except he needs to study the Fish's eyes a little closer. He doesn't squint.
 

Appearing on this site = douchebag.

So it is written... So shall it be done.

douchinus vobiscum.
 

Definitely not the slap
 

Besides the stain under his lip, I feel few douche vibrations. He does look a little like Fish Slap's brother, the corporate accountant who is mysteriously successful with women.

His gaze says to the viewer, with relaxed contentment, "This morning, I prepared the cash flow statement of a major fortune 500 company using the latest GAAP rules. This afternoon, I finished staining my new deck. This evening... I will be laying a rope of hot jizz across the ample bosom you see before you, while you stay home and install Linux on your computer."

I then look at my shoes and weep in quiet agreement. Afte all I did want to see if I could get that scanner working.

- Songs in the Key of Scrote
 

Look at those cunt-eyes. Definitely the eyes of a schmuck who smoked too much pot moments before this pic was taken.

News to the douche; pot inhibits your ability to perform.
 

a wise man once said...."FUCK FISH SLAP"
 

Let's all look at the location: PURE, the douchebag mecca, at Caesars Palace, LV, NV. Attendance at that establishment guarantees you for douchedom. If the cameraman were to pan left or right, you'd see Fish Slap and his gay gladiator posse or maybe Glinty, maybe even Douche Gossage. If that's not enough, the chin pubes and "I've got a Ferrrari" look pretty much lock this one up as douche.

Never mind that he rented the Ferrari from Big Earl's Exotic Car Rental in Pahrump for 500$ a day and that he's really there as part of an Amway convention, it's his one weekend away from the snows of Armpit, North Dakota and if it gets him some bleethed out hott, then I say: Vaya Con Douchebag, North Dakotabag.
 

@ songs in the key of scrote:

Brilliant deduction, man.

Not Slap. Barely stage 1 douche. Normal skin tone here, INC shirt from Macy's, hairline receding faster than the tide before a tsunami. There can only be one Fish Slap. But I fear that his 'bag vibes have resounded throughout the douch-iverse as a call to awaken the dormant choad in guys everywhere.

Fuck Fish Slap.

Oh, and boobies.
 

I'm going to err on the judgement of the person who submitted this pic and accept this guy as a douchebag.

Besides, if you're going to smug it up for the camera like this without all the known psychical characterisitics, you're at least in mind a douchebag. The rest will follow.

From the expression on this chick's face I can't tell whether she's scared shitless or just plain dumb?
 

Funny you mention that particular Weena fantasy, DB1. I've wanted to tap that in my own private future ever since I read the book. Though it didn't occur to me to teach her English. Do I really want to talk with her?

This girl looks more like a Dejah Thoris wannabe, anyway.

Let's go on record as being thankful for short tight dresses of any stripe.

Oh, and nice hair peninsula you got growing there, Helo-douche.
 

It's like the Slap and Tarantino's butt baby.
 

@
Songs in the Key of Scrote
Anonymous : 9:23 PM

I just died a little bit inside. You mentioned both GAAP and LINUX in the same post and... no, I won't confess it.

I'm going to go find something to berate now.

Oh and... nice boobies.

*weeping*
 

Is he smelling her hair? That is so creepy! Definitely a douche.
 

Fish Slap for President!

oh, and bOObies!
 

Let's just call this wannabe shrimp slap.
 

The chick looks pretty scared. Like she's being held against her will, or this date was arranged by her parents. Her boobs tell me that story.
 

Just being in Las Vegas raises the risk of being a douche by 400% (note subtle hints of Rio and Ceasar's back there). The boobies are practically pointing: "Ooh! Let's go to the Palms!"
 

Maybe his kid brother... I dunno, those boobs distract me so much...
 

I shall shout my ode to the big titted smooth cinnamon skinned piece:

There's nothing I could tell you but you look good when you wear it well.

Damn camera man prevents us from catching the snapper shot. With that trim physique I guess it's as tight as a mouse's ear.

And to the imposter trying to live it up in Vegas, get your hand off her chocolate milky thigh. That's what I'd like to devour on Thanksgiving.

-Orel out
 

It must have been cold out!!!! I wonder how much he had to put on his credit card to get this hott to sit on his lap?

Fuck Fish slap!!!

Viktor Von Douche
 

I had to stop my drinking just to say it's "Morlocks", not Morelocks.
Okay, back to the bourbon.
 

I think he's leasing her.
 

the most painful aspect of these pictures is the paradoxical attraction to the steamingly hott specimens portrayed in them, and the nauseating revulsion provided by the total scrotes they've blasphemously chosen to associate with. in so many of these pictures i've gnashed my teeth and bit my bitter thumbs over the impossible (barring Photoshop, of course) of separating the delightful yin from the scrotetastic douchosity of yang. it is impossible, in other words, to download these pictures for future inspection, because the abhorrent presence of douche so close to hott would drive us mad.
in this one instance, however, i embrace the inevitability of madness, and download in spite of my sanity, for i must have access to Weena in my future. i cannot let her simply vanish from my sight, simply because she is entrapped on the lap of an epitomal scrotefaced goon. as a character out of lovecraft, i await the descent of madness, for having willfully looked at something beyond human ken, beauty beyond measure, horror beyond compare.
pray for me, for i am lost.