Showtime aired the male-stripper documentary La Bare this weekend, and it was so douchey that I felt utterly cleansed inside after watching it. Actor Joe Manganiello came upon the Dallas strip club the film profiles and is named after while researching for his role of Big Dick Richie in Magic Mike. He was so inspired to document the happenings at the club—La Bare was initially intended to be a reality show, and boy does it feel like it. It is endearingly trashy. The only thing bigger than the personalities on screen are the packages.

No, this isn't a Bloomberg joke.

Psychologists at the University of Winnipeg recently completed a three year study whose results indicate that—and I'm paraphrasing slightly here—heavy texters and tweeters are just horrible, shitty people.

While I'd like to retire the word "douche" and its many derivations, that doesn't mean it doesn't have its uses. Just look at GQ, which published a new, revised list of the "Douchiest Colleges in America" today. So what schools made the list?

Douche and vagina soap company Summer's Eve has a new ad campaign featuring talking vagina hands imploring their owners to clean their vaginas more thoroughly. And, in case that premise isn't preposterous enough already, Summer's Eve is tailoring its message to different ethnic groups. Above, a sassy black vagina mm-hmm's while mouthing off (...giving lip?) about hairdos.

Details gathered a bunch of sexy Russian spy Anna Chapman's ex-boyfriends for a kiss-and-tell drinking session, and the result is like busting open a fire hydrant connected to a pipeline of douche. Let us bear witness.

Today we took a look at the epidemic of terrible college newspaper editorials about date rape, and one commenter wanted to clarify something for one of the fools who recently wrote such a "it's her fault!" screed.

We were worried that naming Joe Francis Gawker's Douche of the Decade might go to the drunk-girls-with-low-self-esteem kingpin's head. Would he simply rest on his laurels and give up the pursuit of douche perfection? Luckily, Francis has not failed us.

With, let's say, 140% of the vote reporting, we are deeply ashamed to announce that Girls Gone Wild impresario Joe Francis is Gawker's Douche of the Decade.

A year ago, interrupty superflack Ronn [sic] Torossian filed America's Greatest Lawsuit when he sued rival flack Drew Kerr for $20 million(!) for setting up a website—RonnTorosianPR.com—with a picture of a douche ad on it. Douche sayswhat?

Sunday's New York piece on Bourne director Doug Liman was basically your typical boilerplate profile of the weird genius. Annoying-but-brilliant, healthily despised, and-for the purposes of this here piece-highly redeemable. That is, if you don't count the debasing way the director, son of a hero of civic litigation, treats his assistant. Less relevant to his character, but still a major put-off, we hear Liman doesn't brush his teeth!

Understandably unhappy professional father Neal Pollack is understandably unhappy that yesterday we called his four-year old son Elijah the worst and predicted that in a few years he'll be a full-grown horror show. Why did we launch this "disgusting sneak attack," he asks, in an email blast to his "Friends, Colleagues, Supporters, and anyone else who might be interested."

From the mailbag: "Gawker, I am looking for a sponsor for our hockey team that will be competing at Chelsea Piers. The team is a good group of guys all working in the city. One works for Howard Stern, one for Bear Sterns, multiple ad agency guys, etc. What we need is a team sponsor. We will proudly wear any jersey and team logo, anything. If you could help us get Summer's Eve, we will gladly be called the Douches. Let me know if you can help out with this request. It's 8k for a season, but we are open to any and all offers - including those who will pay for the jersey's only. Thanks for your help. Of course, if you help us land a sponsor we will get a Gawker logo on the jersey." Do you ever feel not so fresh? We do!