A Toast to the Douchebags
A Toast to the Douchebags
You piss me off. Unlike most of humanity that shuts the fuck up, I’ll do you a favor and let you know who you are, and why you piss me off.
YOU are a pretentious douchebag, a poser, a faker, a hater. You are hollow, shallow, without an ounce of insight or a spoonful of soul. You are the bottom feeder of bottom feeders. You feed on scum that merely aggregates thoughts and ideas. You don’t have taste, thoughts, ideals, or ideas, to even aggregate that which you do not create. No. You, with your sludge for brains, are merely a pass through zone.
Were you to be identified as the bowels of the system, were you considered a passageway that takes the waste matter to the asshole, it would be an insult to the bowels of the world.
You are a detriment to the human race. You are a prime candidate for a tiny meteor big enough to take out you and you alone. Yes, the world would be a better place without you.
And a final qualifier for who “you” are: with all the attributes identified above, you still identify yourself as a filmmaker. Yes, douchebag, this toast is for you.
What is the toast and why do you deserve it so richly?
You deserve the toast, oh yes you do. You know you do. At least I hope so. I hope there is a little pull in your heart, a little quiver in the synapses, a little discomfort, a little queasiness, for each time you pose and pretend.
When you talk about shitty black and white films from the past and praise them for hours at end. You’re merely a regurgitator of someone else’s praise. You don’t actually know why that film is good, and how we’ve evolved past it in the cinematic art forms.
I have seen you and your ignorant ilk react as if someone molested you at a funeral, when someone talks about Michael Bay. As if being Michael Bay were an insult. Since you have no thoughts of your own, let me insert a worthy one in your unworthy skull: Michael Bay is a master at what he does: blow shit up. He rocks. He rolls. He grabs you by the balls and takes you on a roller coaster ride. He creates “popcorn movies”, and he is one of the best at it. Can you, with your douchebaggy frowny face, create cinema like he does? No you can’t. So shut the fuck up.
You wallow like a pig in the mud for silent films by eisenstein but ignore the contemporary genius of Aronofsky. You rant and rave about the new wave, but you fail to realize you’re stuck to a reactionary movement of the past that is no longer relevant. You shudder and recoil as if goosed at the mention of “mainstream” directors like Paul Thomas Anderson, Coen Brothers, Scorsese. You hold modern films in disdain. I have a newsflash for you: you are in love with the idea of being in love with cinema, but you have no idea what cinema is.
You deserve this toast because you don’t want to be a filmmaker. You think you do, but you don’t really. You are a poser with no personal point of view. You are a fucking wimp. You have neither the soul, not the talent, nor the experience or faculties to BARE YOUR SOUL. To tell a story, one must have a soul. You don’t.
You deserve the toast because posing for pictures interests you more than creating pictures. You love talking about filmmaking, but don’t really want to do any filmmaking. You tweet and post status updates each and every time you sit down to write. But you don’t actually write.
You like films that are at least a couple of decades old because there is ample consensus and literary material about what makes that film good or bad. You have no inkling of what your own thoughts, ideas and feelings are about the film. Because you have none.
And that’s why you deserve the toast.
So here it is, the toast: “May you live long and prosper in your career as a real estate agent”.
Written by Vincent Chigurh
Vincent Chigurh is an unapologetic filmmaker and storyteller. He lives in a land full of dreams. Blossoming, ripening, realized, and rotting dreams. He owns several mirrors.