Doosh Thunderdome: It’s votin’ time.

So, whaddya reckon?

Serena Williams?

I'm a doosh in a catsuit!

Delonte West?

I'm a shirtless doosh!

Terrelle Pryor?

I'm a doosh in a horseshoe!

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Delonte West: Doosh Dossier

This year has visited a groundswell of doosh upon the hapless heads of Hags and Squeeple alike. A torrential outpouring of vinegar so vast in scope and relentless in attack that it can relate to only this: the countless acts of dooshery, douchestacity, and douchebagelry with which we, in the People’s Republic of Thundersquee!, have been forced to reckon. It ain’t pretty people. We’ve had Kanye Interruptus; Carrie Preach-jean; Jon “Ed Hardy” Gosselin; Rush Oxylimbaugh; Glenn Crazy Eyes Beck; and the list goes on.

Here’s how it will work. For the next couple of weeks, we will recount some of the dooshes catalogued in our year-long category aptly titled “Doosh Watch 2009.” We will then pit the dooshes against each other in the Thunderdome. And you, dear squeeperson, will vote for your least favorite doosh, or-if you prefer a phrase more semantically accurate-the dooshiest doosh as between the dooshes.

Put on your protective goggles, squeeples. You do NOT want to look any of these dooshes in the eye.

So here’s what you do: Assess the dooshery based on our prior blog posts throughout the year and any independent knowledge you may have of a particular doosh’s dooshiness. And then vote! It’s as easy as saying… something that’s easy to say.

We will provide a doosh dossier on each of three Doosh of the Year Nominees throughout the day. Then at the end of the day (8 p.m. PST-ish) that day, we will open the polls for voting. You vote for the dooshiest of the three. And at the end of the doosh round robin, we will pit our final three nominees against each other and award a Giant Bag of Doosh to our Douche of 2009. Stay classy, squeeple!

Next up are Serena Williams, Delonte West and Terrelle Pryor or as we at Thundersquee! like to call them, the doosh athletes who shouldn’t be allowed to talk.

Delonte West 

For those of you who don’t follow the NBA with any sort of regularity, let me just tell you:  This man is kind of psychotic (though in a good way).

Oh sure, he’s a mercurial player at the point guard position, and a true difference-maker for a Cleveland team that was simply Lebron and the seven dwarfs before he arrived.  But can he really get his sh** together and help Cleveland win a championship?  That we’re not so sure about.

The reason for this are manyfold, though most of them have something to do with him being a complete nutbar.

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