Take The Wheel, Douchebag

 
Eds. Note: This is the 12th installment of our ongoing series of guest appearances by cultural heavyweights. 

What the holy fuck did I do to make this world hate me so?

My sole purpose on this planet is to gently cleanse the tender vaginal canals of female human beings across the industrialized world and, if at all possible, fill said female with a heightened sense of confidence and self worth should another human happen upon said woman's vaginal canal.

I promise nothing more. I deliver nothing less.

Well, on second thought, I might even serve to occasionally foster a greater degree of communication between the various generations of human families, as a mother may see fit to regale her daughter or daughters with cheerful tales of yore, such as when her own douching helped her snare her future husband's eye the University of Dayton fall formal back in 1982.

I cleanse. I smile. I die.

Yes, that's right.  After I labor as a reservoir for an otherworldly combination of harsh chemicals, acids, bases and vinegar, I am hurriedly cast asunder much like my recreational cousin, the condom.

How do you think that makes me feel?

Empowered, that's how. Just like a latter-day Geisha at the $10 tug-stand or servile, doe eyed concubine.

But you know what does rile me up?  When humans take my name in vain by affixing the noble moniker to those deemed the most socially befuddled and monstrously undesirable amongst them.

Would you like it if I called you a Dane Cook?

Or a Stan Gable?

Or a The Situation?

Or even the a the late Johnny Olson?

Exactly, you stanky landlord of hell-quim.

Now open up those meaty gargoyles you call thighs and let me get about my business in peace.

-Eve Unit #231,712