J is for ...

... Jerkface.

Remember back in the days when we were younger and dumber and couldn't say things like "dickhead" and "douchebag"?  In those days we'd have to come up with equally awful epithets to bestow on the objects of our derision.  Usually boys.  Always boys.

Endowments like dummy, stupid moron, knucklehead and, my most favourite, jerkface.

Thinking on it now, the visual image of the word 'jerkface' is so strong it's hard to imagine anything but a complete recoil when uttered - it's the perfect Elaine Benes Dance Move + Gnarly Feet On Their Way to Naturalizer combination.  It's ugly and assaulting from the inside out.  It lets it be known - loud and proud - that dude, you are directly on your way to douchebag with a pit stop at dickhead.  All you will be collecting along the way is scorn. 

Nowadays, calling someone a jerkface doesn't seem so bad.  It's a wholesome little "aw, shucks, golly, what a jerkface you are!", while cutely smushing ice cream in each other's faces fun time kind of thing.  But no.  Not for me, lovebugs.  For me, jerkface is the first step on the road to dude-blivion. 

Got that, Jerkface?*

J is for Jerkface.


*Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.  Or not.