That Douchebaggery Is So Leotarded

I don't know what it was about the headiness of receiving my MBA and a trip to Greece a year ago that spurred my adoption of the word "retard", a word I had never readily embraced beforehand.

Prior to placing "retard" and "retarded" into my vocabulary canon, I had recently embraced the deliciously crass "douchebag", and my favorite spin on the original: "douchebaggery".

Maybe living with my parents again triggered a regression that lowered once-staunch literary standards, freeing me to accept particularly infernal slang terms I once held a garlic-covered cross to, much like the douchebags and retards of yore flailed at suspected vampires...who weren't really vampires.

Maybe a string of rejection letters, after the sweat and tears of dutifully writing scores of cover letters, and the subjugation of phone interviews, armed and loaded the irreverent imp living in my head, taking up the space once reserved for manners, grace, and political correctness.

Maybe, like a sociopath, I lost the ability to tell right from wrong. But I can tell you this: even as I allowed lowbrow locutions to leap from my lips, I still felt a quiet little jangle of guilt in my heart. [I blame the jangle on residual Catholickiness that can stick to the consciences of the fallen like feathers to tar.]

[And, please note there is a discernment between "douchebag" and "asshole", and this is important. Allow me to explain vis-à-vis a brief story. After a few hours at a friend's housewarming last fall, and voluminous ounces of beverage had been consumed, the distinction was collectively and verbally codified. "A douchebag is an asshole who doesn't know he's an asshole". A fellow member of this heated and arguably intoxicated circle of newly-minted MBAs went on to say: "I know I'm not a douchebag because I know I'm an asshole". We all laughed, nodded in agreement, and I reached for another glass of wine.]

So it was with fierce interest that I read a recent post by Dan Savage (brilliant writer of the sex column Savage Love) in response to a reader who (rightfully) chastised him for his frequent use of "retard", and its many variations. I applauded his response. I include it, herewith:

"I’m going to turn over a new leaf, TROS, and make a conscious, conscientious effort to break myself of the bad habit of using the word retard. But I don’t think the “retard jar” is for me. Instead, I’m going to use a substitution for the word. From now on, instead of saying “retard” or “That’s so retarded,” I’m going to say “leotard” and “That’s so leotarded.” I won’t be mocking the mentally challenged, just the physically gifted. I will pick on the strong—and the limber—and not the weak".

Dear Dan, about "douchebag"...