CitizenTed

I have determined that it’s OK to punch the following people in the face:

People who start to clap along to the music.

People who stand in the fucking doorway.

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It’s also OK to punch the following people in the stomach until blood comes out their mouth:

TV news pundits

Evangelicals

Furthermore, it is A-OK to punch these people in the gonads till they puke:

People who urge Draconian laws 'to protect the children'.

Anyone involved in, or fans of, 'reality shows'.

And finally, I urge you all to punch the following people in the kidneys – HARD – at your first opportunity:

Drivers who don't pay attention.

Tongans.

Thank you!

Douche Quadbike, going it alone. With a rock.

Meet Ben, aka Douche Quadbike.

Ben’s girl Loren left him 2 years ago and he’s been holding a torch for her ever since. In order to impress upon Loren his undying, heartfelt affections, he produced, directed and starred in a YouTube video that has become a living paean to all that is douchy. He then sent this video to every fucking online video forum he could find. The world must know of his love for Loren! The world must also know what a self-involved, overwrought, meathead douchebag he really is!

See it here.

Awful music, idiotic themes and douchebaggery on a level heretofore unknown. Watch Ben drive his GM truck recklessly. Watch Ben hump his quadbike. Watch Ben perform amazing feats of strength for no discernible reason whatsoever. Watch Ben make a public ass of himself – and do it PROUDLY.

Yes, Ben is a douchebag.

Of course, acts of douchebaggery are rarely secret for long. A talented smartass named Sanchez decided to do a parody. See it here: The Ballad of Douche Quadbike. (See lyrics below.)

This was so goddamn funny, I almost died.

Now, you would think that’s the end of it. But no.
You can read the cracked.com saga here. (Warning: long!)

Apparently, Ben was unhappy with the parody and threatened Sanchez with, among other things:

- Several toothless cease and desist take down orders;
- A “mill” lawsuit;
- Assurance that his “team of lawyers” were “on their way” to get Sanchez;
- Assurance that the CIA, DHS and Interpol are hot on Sanchez’ tracks;
- Endless racist, violent threats too varied to repeat here.

And then, things get weird…

Apparently Douche Quadbike fancies himself an actor and has decreed by all that is douchebaggy that he WILL BECOME the star of the upcoming full length feature film Captain America. Furthermore, he deserves this role because he IS Steve Rogers, patriotic defender of America and her interests, wearing his red, white and blue outfit and brandishing his vibranium shield.

Does this explain the Douche Quadbike video with greater clarity? Did Douche Quadbike create this humiliating piece of dreck in in a childish attempt to further his acting career, rather than as a love letter to his long lost Loren?

Well, yes. It does!

It does! It does!

Thus, the Douche Quadbike story takes a new tack, from ham-fisted homosexual douchebag to ego-mad also-ran loser. The Douche Quadbike virus spread quickly to film and comics forums, where his value as a potential Captain America was debated vigorously between Douche’s supporters, people with brains, and Douche Quadbike himself.

We now have a full-on Douche Quadbike mania. Feel free to check out these lovely salutes to Douche Quadbike.

The Ballad of Douche Quadbike – Acoustic!

Douche Quadbike is Panda-Z!

A Sanchez Tribute: The Ballad of ZootSanchez

I’m a Sad and Lonely Douchebag

Douche Quadbike: Downfall (hilarious!)

Yakety Sax Douchebag

…and yes, a Facebook Group.

This is my my fave: electro-pop Douche Quadbike!

You can follow along with the “Ballad of Douche Quadbike” lyrics:

I’m a sad and lonely douchebag
In a cold and cruel world
With tight pants and a quad bike
And a stalk-on for a girl
Gonna spam my way across the earth
To prove to you i’m sweet
Not just a narcissistic golem
Made of random lumps of meat

So babe I’m sorry I was mean to you,
I’m sorry I turned traitor
I’m so sorry that I fucked that waiter

Chorus:
But I’m not gay any more
Had a taste for man ass babe,
But I think I’ve found a cure
All I need to do is lift some things And arrange them on the floor
And you’ll come back to me for sure,
And I won’t beat you like a whore any more

I’m not much good with words, babe, with music or with art,
But I’ll roll the tyres of my sincerity Through the cow field of your heart
The rocks of longing I will lift,
The hay of sorrow drag
And I’ll hope nobody notices that I was gonna
Paint the wrong name on that flag

And I’m sorry that it’s been so long, I’m sorry that I did you wrong,
I’m sorry all the steroids took
Six inches off my dong

Chorus:
Least I’m not gay any more
All these fishtails on my quad bike is why my ass is sore
I got a maybe for a movie part,
Got one foot in the door
I’ll spam my video on messageboards galore
And everyone who sees it will adore me

Hmm, strike a pose

So Loren baby for you and Hollywood I’ll quit the dicks and the rectal friction
Even though it’s a reasonable assumption to make
That your existence is a total fiction

I’m not done with you yet,
Our relationship failed baby,
But i haven’t written off the debt
I’ll make a dick out of myself on the internet
And if you hate me then cancer you will get…

Citizen Ted wishes to extend a hand of thanks to Sanchez and everyone else who made this weekend memorable. Thanks for the LULZ!

Jesus Christ! Move your ass!

Granted, I’m from New Jersey, so I’m conditioned to operate quickly. In Jersey, no one obeys the speed limit and dawdling will get you reamed out with immediate effect. Here in bucolic Washington, life is much slower. Everyone drives at or below the posted speed limit. It’s perfectly acceptable to stand in line and hem and haw and um and aw while a huge queue forms behind you. No one says anything, no one complains.

If you do complain, you are a Jerk. You are in Impatient Ass. You should learn to Chill Out. You may even be a Republican.

Well, I’m not a Republican. I’m just a guy who is infuriated by thoughtless, self-involved assholes with no regard for those around them.

"Dude, like, chill out..."

No, I’m NOT going to chill out, you fuck! Unlike you, I have places to go and people to see. I have priorities and responsibilities. And guess what, asshole? I MEET THEM! I don’t “space out” and end up late for meetings. I don’t leave friends hanging when we agreed to meet at xxx place at xxx time. I don’t tell my boss, “Oh, dude, you’re like, so hung up on the clock, man. What’s the big deal?” Instead, I show up on time and ready to work. Why? Because my boss never comes to my house at 4:30am to make me file a monthly report. They respect my time, I respect theirs.

Respect. That’s what I’m talking about.

Who's holding up the goddamn line???

I’ll tell you who. A vapid, self-involved asshole, that’s who. Now that they are at the front of the line, they think they’ve earned the right to dawdle. They think they deserve to be treated like the Prince of Monaco. They’ll roll their eyes and say “um…uh…” a lot. They’ll change their minds four times, then ask for special dispensation after the transaction. Why? Because they think they are special and more important than everyone around them.

News Flash: you are as insignificant and unimportant as everyone you spy from behind those pretty blue eyes of yours. You are a naked ape; a perfumed hog; a loping baboon. You have moles and creases and bad odors. You are neither noble nor particularly striking. So shut the fuck up, place your fucking order, grab your fucking food and get the fuck out of the line, OK?

"25 in a 45 is fast enough. What's the big rush, sonny?"

The big rush, you octogenarian retard, is that it’s 8:10am and everyone is trying to get to work! You remember work, don’t you? It was that thing that occupied your time many years ago, long before you found joy in crawling down the busiest road in town like a snail, snarling traffic and enraging the community that pays your fucking Social Security. Why are you out driving at 8:10am? Some primordial fish-like reaction causes you to shower, get dressed and go driving in the morning; some errant Pavlovian conditioning has gripped your addled brain. Even though you are retired and should be SLEEPING IN and  enjoying the GOOD LIFE like anyone with a LICK OF SENSE, you’re content re-creating those salad days of rush-hour traffic and frayed nerves. You fucking IDIOT.

I see this crap every day. And I’ve had it. It’s a cultural thing, and I should learn to adjust, but I can’t. The West Coast promotes this whole “chill” behavior. Everything is slow, everyone is special and no one should ever criticize anyone else. Well I’m SICK OF IT. Jersey Boy has invaded your patchouli-stained lands, you self-absorbed suburban nitwits! And he isn’t happy! You WILL conform! The rules are simple:

1) Drive 5mph above the posted speed limit. The cops will NOT ticket you for 5 over, I promise.

2) Stay out of the passing lane unless you are passing. And if you are passing, do it smartly and quickly.

3) Prepare yourself ahead of time when you are in line to order something. Be prepared to order, be prepared to pay attention to the cashier (they are PEOPLE, not your servants!) and be prepared to pay. Then be prepared to get the fuck out of the way for the next person.

4) DOORWAYS ARE NOT LOITERING SPOTS. You fucking MORON. MOVE IT!!!

5) Think about others! Put yourself in their shoes. Have empathy. Show sympathy. Get out of your own egotistical fucking head and start behaving as if you were a very small part of a very big community.

6) Even if you do these things, I’ll probably still hate you, but you can always hope to earn my admiration.

ZOMG PUSH IT!!!

I love America. Why? It’s our unending hubris. Everyone appreciates the guy with confidence. Women uniformly agree that they find confident men attractive.

The trouble is, overly-confident people usually have no fucking idea what they’re talking about or what they’re doing. The scientific method doesn’t give a crap how confident you are in your hypothesis. Bad ideas will be sussed out. Nature doesn’t care how confident you are. Earthquakes kill heroes and cowards alike.

Confidence isn’t always a good thing. I know it sounds insane, but sometimes a bit of caution is helpful.

Solving complex problems involves a bit of both: confidence that you will succeed and caution to avoid deceiving yourself. Knowing when to apply each is like cooking a steak over an open fire and using liquid butter and a water bottle to adjust the flames.

Which brings us to:

OMFG! Swine flu!

The way the media is telling it, swine flu is just inches away from killing your infant. Never mind the fact that your kid is 9000% more likely to die from regular flu. Never mind the statistics or the numbers. The American media wants you to know that swine flu is poised to cover the Earth with burning piles of corpses. There is no escape and no future; we are all royally fucked.

Burn, baby, burn!!!

OK, I’m being too goddamn sarcastic. Fact is, swine flu (Influenza A H1N1) is a particularly lethal form of the flu. And we are overdue for a pandemic. We haven’t had a real high-quality barn-burner for 91 years.

But folks, by all outward appearances, this flu isn’t THE flu. Its current form just isn’t virulent enough to do the kind of damage that the bobble-heads on TV are warning you about. Yes, it could mutate (unless you’re a Creationist, in which case mutations don’t ever occur unless the Bible describes them). A random mutation that increased virulence and lethality could make H1N1 a real pisser.

But that just hasn’t occurred. So stop freaking out. Stop running off to the ER because you got the sniffles. They can’t help you anyway; if you’ve contracted H1N1, there is no cure. You’ll either die or live. You’re better off staying at home, swilling NyQuil and watching re-runs of Hell’s Kitchen.

If the virus mutates in a bad way, the global networks will certainly let you know. In the mean time, let’s “Keep Calm and Carry On”, OK?

And if the worst should happen, you can rest assured that I will hole up in my bunker with six weeks of provisions and some powerful guns. When the worst is over, I will emerge into the smoking ruins to take full control over a society gone mad. I will rule with an iron fist, but if you prove your worth and join me in hunting down the last of the infected zombies, you can go with me to a secret Paradise waiting in the mountains.

You see? There’s nothing to worry about.