Last week, Double X contributor Lauren Bans took a hard line on the term “douchebag.” According to Bans’ definition, “a douchebag is a very specific sub-segment of the asshole population . . . the douchebag label necessitates a middle-class or higher wealth level, a gross adherence to fratty mainstream tastes (think popped collars and bars in midtown Manhattan), and a rather pretentious pride in that specific way of life.”

One of the problems with crafting a reliable definition of “douchebag” is that the term is built from the outside. Nobody wants to identify as a douchebag. And so, each individual’s interpretation of the term will necessarily exclude characteristics which they share.

Not so with the term “bro.”

I happen to personally agree with Bans’ definition of “douchebag.” After all, Tucker Max, douchebag du jour, meets all of Bans’ criteria. But perhaps our agreement on “douchbag” is more than mere coincidence. After all, the Max standard of douchebaggery conveniently excludes snarky, frat-averse bloggers like Bans and myself from being thrown in with the douches. (For one: Under this definition, douches are all male).

As Bans notes, there are plenty of other words available to insult close relatives of douchebags: dumbshit, prick, tool, masturbatory elitist, hippie. (Me? I’d probably fall somewhere between the “dumbshit” and “masturbatory elitist” categories). But none of these terms is as fun to hurl as “douchebag” is. That word is satisfying. In practice, then, “douchebag” may actually be defined by the category of person the speaker reviles the most.

How might we come to a more objective definition of “douchebag”? Perhaps the key lies in studying the term’s closest relatives. Take “bro.” On UrbanDictionary.com, bro has been externally defined by the same characteristics as Bans’ douche: bros join fraternities, wear baseball caps, spike their hair, pop their collars, clutch red plastic cups, and are proud of it. But unlike “douchebag,” people actually call themselves “bros.” Is it possible that the term “bro” functions as a way for douchebags to reveal their “pretentious pride” in their fratty lifestyles without admitting how douchey it all is?

In one corner of the blogosphere, a community of self-identified bros has arisen to build an internal definition of “bro”—and distance themselves from “douchebag”. What maketh a bro? Even at “brocial networking” Web site BroBible.com, the line between “bro” and “douche” is a very fine one indeed. Some of the most hotly-contested bro criteria, below.

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* Is hunting bro?

Point: “back before certain bro activities like sports were invented, alcohol being discovered (can u imagine?), and women shaving their legs was thought of (yes, our ancestral brethren had to put up with this for generations) you could argue that hunting was one of the only bro activities around at the time, and remains one of its purest forms.”

Counterpoint: “Hunting is not bro. Maybe it would be bro if the animals had a gun to defend themselves.”

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* Is listening to Phish bro?

Point: “Phish shows=the ultimate chay. Drinking beers and puffing all day with other assorted party favors, grilling, in the sunshine is about as bro as it gets. The music is laid-back and chill, also bro, and incorporates elements of folk, funk, reggae, classic rock, and bluegrass, all bro in their own right. Phish dominates colleges, where every true bro learns the skills necessary for the rest of his life.”

Counterpoint: “Phish is only chill for a bro-raper. And bro-rape is definitely not chay.”

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* Is ultimate frisbee bro?

Point: “Ultimate Frisbee totally is a bro sport. . . . those who hate oughtta see some real ultimate before they judge, not that bullshit the kid with the tyedie t-shirt trys to pull on your quad every spring. although, if you can huck a disk cross quad while whering a pastels, a lax pinni, turf dogs, mids and croakies with a sweet pair of shades, you’ll find its a wonderful way to meet women.”

Counterpoint: “ultimate frisbee is hobby for people who werent any good at regular sports, as well as pussys who are afraid of contact, not a bro sport.”

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* Which lacrosse helmets are bro?

Point: “CPX with steel forever. Always tilted, never with a gay visor.”

Counterpoint: “I don’t know, an all black Pro7 with a gold face mask is pretty sick.”

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* Can Mexicans be bros?

Point: “bros can originate from any culture. what makes us bros is our unquestionable love for brew (cerveza), babes (chicas), sports (deportes), and our dedication to these three pillars of strength.”

Counterpoint: “bros must fit the wasp mold.”

Photo by Unhindered by Talent, Creative Commons Attribution License 2.0

When Doug Banker launched BroBible.com, the world’s first online “brocial network,” last October, he hoped to create “an outlet on the Internet where [bros] can truly express themselves.” In an interview, Banker insisted he was committed to reaching out to all bros:

“The actual type of bro varies, but there are bros everywhere,” explains Banker. “You’ve got the Southern bro, enjoys being outside; the Colorado ski bro; the California surf bro; the Texas down-South bro; the Northeastern preppy lacrosse bro. There are all different types of bros, but they share common attributes.”

No type of bro—even female bros!—would be turned away from the site. But Banker’s “Brommunity” and “Brofiles” could not survive on the strength of their bro puns alone. Now, Banker’s expanded Brobible.com to help bros everywhere share in another storied bro pastime: sex humor, bro! The Web site’s first foray into video comedy, titled “Babefax.com,” is a little less concilliatory to the site’s female bros (African-American bros, too, could come out a little better). But I’m sure the site’s bros can hash out any sore feelings over a virtual brewski, am I right bro?

This week’s contest was true to form: It featured a photo of President Bush appearing to prepare to slap the ass of a member of the U.S. Women’s Beach Volleyball Team, then asked readers to create a funny caption to illustrate the visual. (Note: This is at least the second in Fishbowl’s ass-slapping-themed photo series). These were the finalists:

May-Treanor shows President Bush her finesse, and he goes for the kill.

Now that’s what I call a weapon of mass destruction!

President Bush executes a ‘sneak-and-peak’ search warrant on the U.S. women’s volleyball team

I sure hope Laura is not looking.

It’s just like foreign policy and Iraq: Hit it and quit it!

Mr. President, I poop on your foreign policy!

That’s funny, Laura has the same tattoo.

Here…pull my finger, or do I pull yours?

Nothing yet, keep pushing.

“Now that’s what I call a weapon of mass destruction!” was the best D.C. media could do. Do we have only ourselves to blame? Or is there simply no way to resist the groan-inducing, frat-ready punchline when presented with month-and-a-half-old Presidential bikini shots and homosocial baseball embraces?