URGENT: a message regarding "emo" from the CDC (the center for douche control)

as any regular reader of my cyber-manifesto is all too fully aware of, i am oft to delve into realm of trends, the vogue, the zeitgeist if you will, more often than not on aspects of such that are of the cringe-inducing variety, where i offer up my well-reasoned and lacerating opinions and observations. in doing so, i've come to fancy myself as somewhat of a pseudo cultural anthropologist, as well as a vanguard of sorts, a careful watcher of the cultural and social scene, always at the ready to sound the alarm bells when a threat is imminent, a modern day interweb paul revere if you will.

in that vein, i feel that it's high time to grab my lantern, mount my horse and go screaming through the village to warn the unknowing masses as it has come to my attention of late that there is yet another mutation of douchebaggery whose manifestation is cause for great alarm. its pervasiveness seems to be spreading exponentially, a strain of douche so virulent and vulgar and bilious that it threatens to render the two most ghastly variations of modern douchebaggery, the guido douche and the preppy douche, charmingly benign.

the strain of douche of which i speak, is emo.

what motivated me to unleash this diatribe was an unfortunate circumstance that i found myself in on friday night. simply put, i was led astray by a posse of cackling hens, a cluster of sirens that i happened upon in an east village bar, who then used their inherent power of the vag to seduce me into joining them at a bar called angels and kings, an establishment whose ownership group includes the likes of pete wentz of the band fall out boy, noted paramour of the lesser attractive and talented of the sisters simpson. upon entry of the establishment by my considerable being, it became quickly evident that angels and kings was a beacon of sorts to the emo douche. angels and kings is essentially to the emo what the western wall is to the jew.

some of you, particularly my readers in taipei, cairo and des moines, may be unfamiliar with the emo douchebag. consider yourself among the fortunate. for the sake of you, the yet to be touched by the "nobody understands me" scourge of emo, allow me to point out some of the more hallmarked characteristics of emo douchebaggery so that you may be better prepared to defend your own villages, townships, hamlets, etc., against infestation by early recognition.

-the emo douchebag is essentially a wannabe punk rocker who is hyper-infused with estrogen. he tries really hard to convey an overwhelming sense of disaffected aloofness by acting perpetually glum and introverted. the emo douche is often so overly intoxicated with his own disillusioned sense of individuality that he inevitably fails to recognize the fact that he himself has become what he professes to loathe, which is a sheep who wanders aimlessly through life with the rest of the flock, an identical replica of all of his emo brethren, completely devoid of originality in style or thought.

-the wardrobe staple of the emo douche is the studded belt, which is typically adorned by a pair of tightly fitting black jeans. during the summer months, the emo favors t-shirts emblazoned with the insignias of obscure rock bands from bygone eras that the emo has probably never listened to. during the winter, the emo will insulate himself with tightly fitting sweaters, itchy scarves and gloves whose fingertips have been sliced off, all the better for strumming the impromptu jam session with his ever-present guitar. the emo douche is also fond of the occasional plaid button-down shirts, preferably with chest pockets for him to house his imported cigarettes. finally, the emo wears a distressed pair of chuck taylor converse sneakers on his feet. to not do so is virtually an act of emo heresy.

-the coif of the emo douche is particularly vexing and stylistically tedious. the emo hair is often died black in order to best reflect the color of his soul. bangs are an absolute necessity and preferably of considerable length, for they must be long enough to cover at least one side of disaffected emo face for maximum emo effect.

-the most noted title in the literary repertoire of the emo is "catcher in the rye" as the literary character that the emo misguidedly likens himself to is holden caulfield. always. without fail.

-previously relegated geographically to the southern and easternmost tip of the island of manhattan and the williamsburg section of the borough of brooklyn, emo douche sightings have been documented by yours truly and by my associates in areas that the emo previously would not dare to tread, such as the upper east side, starbucks, wal-mart, rock concerts held in large arenas, and sporting events.

-in a pathetically desperate attempt to be "different", the emo has embarked on an epic quest to obscure the inherent differences between men and women, embracing androgyny with the fervor that the awakened from hibernation bear does the first salmon of the spring. the emo is particularly fond of eyeliner and nail polish, which thereby leads to the main source of romantic relationship distress in the emo's life, as the women who love and fuck the emo are often at odds with having to compete with the emo for mirror time, not to mention the increasing cost of living she incurs by having her cosmetic products siphoned off by the too-ashamed-to-purchase-his-own-mabelline emo douche.

-the sparse emo diet consists largely of tofu and roughage, essential for maintaining a body mass index in the single digits, which then affords the emo the opportunity to fit into his girlfriend's clothes, thereby augmenting his daily wardrobe options.

-the god of the emo universe is thirty seconds to mars frontman jared leto, a titanic cavalcade of unrelenting, angst-ridden, emo douchebaggery. leto is the dark prince of overtly trying way too fucking hard to bring attention upon himself by being "different." one can reasonably expect him any day now to take his emo to the next level and to begin to sport stilhettoes on stage while screaming "bury me, bury me" into the microphone as he belts out the chorus to "the kill" to an audience of his adoring emo fans.

there you have it folks, it's all laid out for you here. i must now retreat to my lavatory to soak my delicate hands in soothing warm water, for they have begun to cripple and ache from the voracity with which my sense of urgency motivated me to type this missive.

i must also prepare myself for the onslaught of venom-laced criticism sure to come my way, as it has in the past whenever i have been so brave as to scold the douchebag, for the douchebag is prone to become enraged and lash out violently whenever i lampoon and skewer all that he holds dear within his little latex heart.

but fear not gentle reader, i am here always. ever vigilant, always watchful, saving the world from itself, one malicious strain of douche at a time.