Douche of the Week: Brian Williams
By Jack Mandaville
Do you know what The Rhino Den has been in desperate need of lately? A good douching. No, not the feminine kind that gives you the fresh feeling downstairs. I’m talking about one of our classic Douche of the Week articles—an ode to those we deem as the worst of the worst.
A lot of you newcomers probably don’t realize that there was a time when the folks of The Den spent a considerable amount of time and resources publically humiliating dickheads of the highest levels. To those of you who have been around for a while, have no fear, another RU douching is here.
If you haven’t heard the news yet, Brian Williams, best known for his plastic quiff and legendary voice that borders on monotone, can add a new name to his repertoire: Douchy McDoucherstein IV, Baron of Douchebagistan and Grand Doge of the Western Douchelands.
Here’s the quick story.
During the Invasion of Iraq in 2003, Williams claimed he was riding in a Chinook piloted by members of the Army’s 159th Aviation Regiment. He also claimed that aircraft was hit by RPGs and small arms fire—forcing a dangerous emergency landing in enemy territory. Soon after, members of a mechanized platoon in the 3rd Infantry Division showed up to provide security for the downed aircraft. He kept up with that story for twelve—count ‘em—twelve years.
A harrowing experience, no doubt.
We know for a fact that these events occurred. There are plenty of eyewitnesses and individuals on record who experienced it. Here’s the problem: They almost unanimously agree that Williams was not there when the aircraft was shot down, which makes him a liar, liar pants on fire.
But don’t take the word of those who experienced it firsthand. Here’s Mr. Williams’ words:
To Joseph, Lance, Jonathan, Pate, Michael and all those who have posted: You are absolutely right and I was wrong… Because I have no desire to fictionalize my experience (we all saw it happen the first time) and no need to dramatize events as they actually happened, I think the constant viewing of the video showing us inspecting the impact area — and the fog of memory over 12 years — made me conflate the two, and I apologize.
Here’s the reality of what happened:
Everything I wrote about earlier, with the RPGs and the Chinook going down, happened—minus Williams and his crew. Then Williams and his crew showed up 30 to 60 minutes later. Then they walked around and took pictures. Then they left. Hooray.
That was it.
You know, I totally understand, as Williams stated earlier, that the fog of memory over 12 years could be confusing. I actually served in Iraq during that exact same timeframe. I know how memories can get blurred over the years.
But there’s a difference between misremembering things like who shot first during that firefight and I was 30 minutes behind the danger and then perpetuated a lie that I was in thick of things for over 12 years just so I could pump of my journalistic resume and continue a personal narrative that was complete caca. If you’re wondering, the latter scenario was directed towards Mr. Williams.
It would be one thing if he was just some miserable fat bastard bragging about war stories in his small town bar, but Brian Williams was a journalist that had the entire country’s ear. THE ENTIRE COUNTRY’S EAR. He disregarded any journalistic integrity for a heartwarming story in order to prop himself up.
Let’s rundown the scoreboard to see where Mr. Williams ranks on the douchometer:
-2 points for being the Milli Vanilli of the news world.
+1 for having a hot daughter.
-70 for being a gigantic douche.
BOOM! You’ve been rated as a colossal douche, Mr. Williams.
Your time here is done. Tuck your tail in-between your legs and GTFO of our lives. You’ve lost all credibility. March your ass to the local cable news circuit and go back to being the bottom feeder you are.