Today in "Ryan Lochte, Douchebag"

The American flag grill is only the tip of the douche iceberg

I can’t do it anymore. Can’t do it. I tried. I tried really hard to ignore this on site, but I can no longer. 

Those of you who follow me on Twitter (and if you’re not, shame on you) have probably noticed our latest running series, Ryan Lochte, Douchebag, in which we chronicle the post-Olympics douchebaggery of Michael Phelps’ foil.

First, there was the whole thing about Lochte not having time for a girlfriend this go-around (he said he had one in Beijing– and yes, I’m totally assuming he paid $5 for her when he landed at the airport). Lochte’s mom, showing that her apple didn’t fall far from the tree, told reporters about all her son’s one-night stands. She later clarified those comments, saying that she meant Ryan doesn’t want to hurt girls because he’s so busy and yada yada yada.  

Here’s what Lochte had to say about wooing those willing victims:

"Some guys keep staring, but I'll give her a wink and come back later, because it keeps her thinking," he explained.

He also spoke about what confuses him most about the opposite sex: "It's impossible to know what they're thinking. If I could have one superpower, I'd be like Mel Gibson in What Women Want, where he reads women's minds," he said.

That’s actually a little bit creepy. Anyone who winks at a member at the opposite sex has a complex. If a guy does it, he’s a self-absorbed prick. If a chick does it, she’s undoubtedly a slore coming off a breakup who needs to get laid (AND GET LAID NOW, DAMMIT!) to legitimize her self-worth. There’s also a high likelihood that at some point in the evening she’s going to get so drunk that she farts on your lap and doesn’t even realize it (I’m speaking from experience here).   

Lochte's game (and those mysterious winks) were presumably on display at whatever London night club he stumbled out of last week…

Pic via TMZ

… but surprise, surprise, now that the Olympics are over, he suddenly wants to settle down (and be the next Bachelor), which is something he told this Extra reporter on the set of 90210 yesterday: [Just re-read that last sentence and tell me you don’t want to punch yourself in the dick as hard as you can.] 

 

He’s a bonafide nerd, who, thanks to working out 14 hours a day, is build like a Greek god. Saying “I want a girlfriend to give all of myself to” is code for “I am a hot commodity right now and I’m going to strike while the pussy iron is hot by disarming any leery conquests. Come get me, you guys, I’m fucking vulnerable!”

As you’ve gathered from that clip, Lochte wants to be on Dancing With The Stars, too. He’s openly campaigning for it, in fact. So… there’s that. 

You also probably noticed that he speaks like something is legitimately wrong with him. His lack of interview skills (or, really, just his general inability to string together complete thoughts) has already been dutifully chronicled by this magical world a interweaved webs:

I watch that video sometimes when I’m down just to feel better about myself.

He wears self-branded shirts: 

And finally, what put me over the edge to write this: Today it was reported that Lochte applied for a trademark for his dumb catchphrase… wait for it… jeah!

Jeah, he did: [TMZ]

According to the trademark docs,  Ryan wants to use the word on sunglasses, workout DVDs, gift cards, mugs, drinking glasses, trading cards, calendars, posters, swimsuits, swim caps, sports hats, and water bottles.

His official website is already all over it:

Fuck.

Here he is explaining jeah. I apologize for making you watch this one:

My God, the humanity.

Lochte brought this all on himself. He spent that past year talking about how this was his time and all that, completely pretending that his American teammate wasn’t the greatest Olympian ever. If Lochte had just shut his mouth, swam, won one individual gold, a team gold, a couple silvers and a bronze, everyone would be talking about what a great swimmer he is. Instead, it’s again Phelps who wins the day. Lochte was able to beat Phelps in the 400 individual medley (I’m convinced Michael was asleep for the first two days of the Olympics), but then Phelps came back and won four consecutive gold medals, in two individual and two team events (one with Lochte). He’s likely not much different than Lochte out of the pool, but escapes these sorts of posts (I’m not the first to call Lochte a douchebag) by playing up the fact that he’s just an awkward kid who happens to swim the butterfly with the ease of the Loch Ness Monster on an early morning leisure lap. He embraces his goofiness, knowing full well that his messed up smile does him more good than harm. Oh silly me– I won another gold! – flash gums –

Lochte, on the other hand, has gone on a post-Olympics tear, talking about everything from his love of fashion to his desire to meet a soulmate to his Young Jeezyisms. And the media is eating it up. 

We can do better, America. We can do better.