Make 'em suffer

Let's take a moment out of our mediocre day and take some time, some well spent elongated time, into dissecting, deconstructing, and redirecting the douchy-non-smile. I feel that this term or ideal may be only found in the venue of the male, or the man, the individual with the hairy chest, the homo sapien with the proper equipment down south, the dude with the short-man complex, the guy who may happen to exaggerate to help his pride out, and the chump with the tendency to scratch the aforementioned equipment in public with no sight for manners. All these in that gender apply. It's not that I'm exonerating women from this ideal of existing, it's just that women are not precocious enough to be found trying to display some utter depravity in the world through their appearance; they are genuinely found displaying pure beauty in a natural god-given smile.

I mean come on, all us boys are equipped with the tendency to lean towards and even employ the douchy-non-smile. We are characters who in pure vanity model ourselves after those we see as being the pinnacle of our species. So when that over-oiled muscled out stubbled-jawed Adonis climbs onto the screen or peers through the print, we make it a point to replicate. Dudes everywhere these days are sportin' Converses, Supreme, Levi's, True Religion, and of course the douchy non-smile. Myspace and Facebook and let's not forget Virb or Friendster are bulletin boards screaming, "Look at me! Look at me! I also have on display my own version of the douchy-non-smile! Can I be special too?"

But kids, for the sake of humanity in general, we boys need to smile more. I mean how much more can your eyes take the squinting or your lips garner the melancholy depravity of sincere thought. Da Vinci mastered that look in the M.Lisa; you can't. Your face needs a break from the strain. My eyes need a break from the douchiness. Kids, once again in unison let us repeat, we all just need to smile more. Life is hard, I get it; growing up ain't easy; the big mean monster with the dubious title of "life" is out to get you; I get it. But when that flash bulb and optical lens come your way, flash 'em pearls and give the middle-finger to the douchy-non-smile.

Basically, Johnathan Rhys Meyers and Ryan Phillipe: "Go Fuck Yourselves"


Be Relentless,
Peace
Remoy