My fellow Americans, the rise of our douchebag population is out of control. Not only do we see an increasing number of douchebags in our news and politics, but the signs of douchebaggery are everywhere – elevated sales of men’s hair gel, more tanning salons popping every day, and of course, the fact that Carson Daly, a douchebag amongst douchebags, still hasn’t been assassinated. However, in order to stop the rise of douchebaggery in America before it’s too late, we need to hit the douchebags where it hurts them most. Thus, for the sake of America, and preserving a culture that’s semi-tolerable, we need to place a limit on the number of collars that douchebags can pop each year.

Although such a limit might be difficult to enforce, it would most certainly ensure the gradual demise of the douchebag population. After all, if douchebags were not able to communicate their level of douchebaggery through their number of popped collars (nor inspire potential douchebags of the future), their douchebag identities would be jeopardized. Chaos, in turn, would set in amongst the entire douchebag population.

Certainly, they might find other ways to communicate, athletic bands on the forearm for example, but by the time they re-grouped, the potency of their douchebaggery would be severely fractured. Plus, douchebags are notorious for having limited to no problem-solving abilities.

Many might argue that America faces greater problems than the rise of our douchebag population. And while I can’t entirely disagree, I must ask for Americans to be sensitive to those whose lives have been directly affected by douchebags – parents whose children have become douchebags, siblings who have witnessed a brother become a douchebag, and of course, those unfortunate Americans who have become douchebags without even realizing it.

Who knows? Maybe those dissenters are right. Maybe America should be spending all of our time fixing our economy and dealing with our image/problems in the world system. However – and forgive me for being blunt – what’s the point of securing a “better America,” if our country becomes overrun by douchebags?

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In a recent Shit America Needs article, I spoke about some unfortunate examples of America’s sexual conservatism - a limited number of nude beaches, harsh penalties against indecent exposure, and the crippling stigma that’s attached to hooking up with one’s hot relatives. However, America’s sexual conservatism sometimes doesn’t go far enough nor does it always extend in the right directions. Most notably, America has neglected to address the problem of banana hammocks on public beaches, those men who flaunt their ding dongs and give bystanders an unwanted approximation of their size/dimensions. Not only are these men an offense to their immediate bystanders, but they haunt every American who has ever seen their banana hammock and later failed to erase the image from their minds. Thus, for the sake of America, in order to stop the spread of banana hammocks before its too late, we need a punch in the balls for all American men who wear banana hammocks at the beach.

Although supporters of the banana hammock might contend that bystanders can always look in the other direction, this argument is as limp as the bulge in their hammocks. When any red-blooded American sees something out of the ordinary, whether it be a car crash, a female comedian who tells a funny joke, or a man wearing a lady’s bathing suit, we can’t help but stare. Perhaps this doesn’t apply as much to foreign countries, but Americans are nosy, gawking individuals, and thus different hammock etiquette applies. On another note, it might seem contrarian to support nude beaches yet oppose banana hammocks. On nude beaches, after all, bananas can hang without their hammocks. However, nude beaches provide enough “out of the ordinary” scenery such than any glimpse of a plain banana is counter-balanced by more appealing fruit - principally, melons. Therefore, when Americans go to sleep the night after visiting a nude beach, they aren’t simply thinking about bananas, but more likely, a pleasant fruit medley.

Of course, it would be difficult to ensure that every American man who wore a banana hammock would indeed get a punch in the balls. It’s also unlikely that every man who got punched would later choose to wear a more practical bathing suit. However, even if only a few of them chose to retire their hammocks, this venture would be well worth our effort. And so, I plead: the next time you see an American man wearing a banana hammock at the beach, don’t even try looking away; for me, for yourself, and for future Americans who might cross paths with that banana hammock in the future, please just punch him in the balls.

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Americans are constantly being told how we are supposed to talk, walk, and of course, dress. Everywhere we go, there are advertisements with unnervingly attractive people on them, looking seductively into the camera with the unspoken words, “I’ll never sleep with you, but blow your money on me and try anyway.” Fashion in America has become increasingly homogenous over the past decades, to a point where even our “counter-culture” frequents apparel and salon boutiques - in order to get that “authentically” counter-cultural look. The “just got out of bed” hairdo, for example, now sometimes costs more than the actual bed. As fashion in America continues down this dark avenue, we are not only losing our power of self-expression, but with each sale at Urban Outfitters or at the local “Make Me Beautiful/Trendy/Ironic” Salon, a little piece of the American free spirit is dying. Thus, for the sake of America, in order to preserve the American free spirit, we desperately need more mullets.

Throughout the 1970s and even into the early 90s, the mullet was an important part of American culture. Not only did a mullet mark the undeniable coolness of an American, but it exemplified their free spirit: it’s like they didn’t even give a shit a rodent was on the back of their head. Americans who sported mullets were the heart and soul of our country, both the small time folks who quietly went about their mullet-infused business and the well-known cultural visionaries who changed the world forever, like David Bowie and Full House’s John Stamos (aka Uncle Jesse). If you’ll recall, even Captain Planet had a mullet.

Initially, many Americans would probably reject the idea of growing a mullet, for the mullet currently falls outside our culture’s current fashion norms. However, after a round of celebrity endorsements, and perhaps a few Full House marathons on TBS, I am sure these Americans will reconsider. Over time, moreover, Americans will come to understand that mullets are not simply for people who live in the 70s/80s/early 90s, families who live in trailer parks, or lesbians who are showing their softer side through six additional inches of hair. Rather, they will understand that mullets are for the free spirited, those who don’t act by saying, but by growing. Moreover, they will understand that as an American, in a time when our country’s fashion is becoming increasingly homogenous, it’s not only your privilege to grow a mullet, it’s your fucking civic duty.

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Most Americans, at some point in their lives, have walked into a Victoria’s Secret lingerie store and felt completely overwhelmed. For American women, this feeling was probably due to intense jealousy/scorn towards the posters of lingerie models - emblematic of our country’s obsession with an “unhealthy” female form. For American men, their overwhelmed feeling was probably due to a gigantic boner. Either way, Victoria’s Secret has been waving sexuality in the faces of Americans for many years without ever once coming clean about Victoria’s actual secret. Not only is this concealment frustrating from a sheer curiosity perspective (ie. Why is Victoria able to consistently give me a boner? What is her secret?), but it directly contradicts America’s supposed value for corporate responsibility.

In a period in which both American businesses and government officials are constantly getting caught for stealing money and other illicit activities, who, if not our country’s leading lingerie retailer, should be standing up for what’s right? For the sake of America, and in order to put honesty back onto America’s short list of sacred values, Victoria must once and for all reveal her dirty little secret: she has crabs.

Granted, Americans would certainly be alarmed if Victoria were to suddenly publicize her STD. At first, many women would probably find themselves seeking out another lingerie retailer, and perhaps burning their old lingerie for fear of crabs infestation. Additionally, many men would probably cancel their Victoria’s Secret catalogue subscriptions and might even encounter difficulty masturbating to some of the older issues. However, by coming clean with the American public, Victoria would not only bring American business to a new level of honesty, but she would inspire slutty women nationwide to confess their STDs and save future partners from months, if not years, of redness and itching.

Although I cannot say with absolute certainty how long ago Victoria contracted her crabs, it is clear that they have never been treated and that they are still thriving to this day. I did not discover this secret because I am her gynecologist or even a cursory expert on the vagina: I simply have common sense. I mean, Americans have seen Victoria’s lingerie for the past twenty years or so. How come we’ve never seen her naked?

Maybe the revelation of Victoria’s secret won’t change much in America. Maybe businesses and politicians will continue insider trading, money laundering, and paying for sex with girls who made fun of them throughout their entire lives. But maybe, just maybe, one American will become more honest, and then others will follow. And if that happens, I will not only be glad that Victoria revealed her secret: I will be glad I gave her the crabs in the first place.

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The 80’s was a glorious decade for America. It brought Americans relative peace and prosperity, a booming economy, the rise of singer/songwriter/pedophile Michael Jackson, and of course, the fanny pack. Soon after hitting the American market, the fanny pack became a wardrobe staple - not only for Americans traveling on vacation, but for anyone with hips who knew how to work a zipper. Fanny packs were especially useful for carrying small objects, like a camera, a Rubik’s Cube, or a lady’s handgun. To this day, America has not seen a clothing item/accessory with as much practicality or utility as the fanny pack, with the possible exception of the edible bra. But unfortunately, Americans have attached a crippling stigma to the fanny pack - such that today, only waiters, meter maids, and douchebags ever dare to wear one.

America has become a country in which citizens are more concerned with the superficial appearance of things than how those things might improve their everyday lives. America’s obsession with the superficial is slowly degrading the higher ideals that America is supposed to embody - self-expression, individuality, and the right to wear neon. Before this degradation continues any further, America needs to band together as a collective country and re-embrace the fanny pack.

America is filled with very strong-minded citizens, and the reversal of a cultural standard, especially in regards to fashion, will not be an easy chore. However, once an initial wave of Americans embraces the fanny pack, other Americans will inevitably follow. It’s like a group of college students visiting Amsterdam for Spring Break: none of them are going to sleep with a prostitute until the first one does - and that’s when the STD party really begins.

As with eco-friendly cars, the initial adopters of the fanny pack are probably going to look pretty silly. However, the cost of a fanny pack is minimal ($15 or so), and the amount Americans can gain from the fanny pack is astronomical. In today’s technological age, not only does the fanny pack provide a secure place to store your iphone, ipod, blackberry, alternate cell phone, and ipod shuffle, but it’s a place to store your pride: as an owner of a fanny pack, you will know that you have taken a stand against America’s obsession with the superficial and in so doing, become a cultural hero. The 1980’s had Michael Jackson, but the 00’s have you.

Americans shouldn’t expect to wake up tomorrow and see everyone walking around with fanny packs. That’s simply not realistic. But maybe in a few months, maybe in a few years, the time will come when you see a fellow American wearing a fanny pack and you won’t say to yourself, “Man, what a douchebag.” Instead, you will say, “Wow. Now that’s practical.”

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