The Award No Man Wants to Win

E. Jean's 2021 Askys

Who Was Extra-Naughty in 2021?

Reader! When a chump borrows your car and returns it with a wheel missing, or peels your clitoris like a soft-boiled egg, or buys you a “Christmas lingerie set” which he tells you “the sales attendant tried on first so I could see how good it’d look on you,” and after you spend 20 minutes searching for the leg holes and struggling with the hooks, snaps, clips, clasps, ribbons, garters, cinchers, clinchers, and nearly knock out an eye with your left breast because the bra is full of rubber, I say, Rejoice, Reader! Clap your well-manicured hands, Reader. And thank Gawd that your chump is not an Asky® Winner.

Because the winner of an Asky is a chump who can’t be fixed. (Or should be sedated, strapped to a table and fixed by the ASPCA.)

So pour yourself a stiff salt-water gargle. We’re gonna look back at 2021—The Year of the Fuckwit—and, as this may, understandably, cause you to scream a good deal, I believe, that if we all just gargle every few minutes, our vocal chords will be fortified and we may present the Askys to the assholes who caused the most problems for the Ask E. Jean correspondents, unharmed.

And . . . The Askys Go To:

The Hapless Moon-Calf Who Left His Wife and Flew to Romania to Bang a Cam Girl

When the poor sap arrived, the young businesswoman so frightened him with demands that he Uber her “to a mall” and buy her “an expensive watch,” he hid in his hotel room, eating Bucharestian vending-machine food while calling his wife and begging her to take him back. But it’s what happened next that clinched this chump’s Asky: When he returned to the States, he moved in with his mother. And the happy ending to this story? The wife took a highly-paid position at a social media company, bought a luxury high-rise in New York and, on September 18, 2021, married a younger man.

The Delusional Dumbass Who Won’t Shower

He was pure. He was unsullied. The chap was so clean you could wash your hands in his armpit hair. Then he began refusing to shower. He stopped brushing his teeth. His wife, a French woman, “tried everything: talking calmly, being humorous about it, attempting to understand why it's happening.” His stench grew like a boiling pot of broccoli, and they stopped making love. He explained his refusal to bathe-and-boff by saying it was her fault. Like every good member of the Society of Advice Columnists and Corset-Boners, I offered several helpful strategies. But the Conflab? Their advice mostly aligned with Kal, who described the chap’s unwashed body as “resemb[ling] the smell of a frightened skunk trapped in an abattoir during a heatwave,” and suggested  the happiest solution for her was to make a clean break and  “go back to France.”

P.S. Thanks to Asha Sanaker, an esteemed member of the Conflab for the phrase “Delusional Dumbass.”

The Walking, Talking Bag of Poison with the Dripping Dick

He confessed to currently bedding a staggering number of women. He admitted he frequents sex workers in Africa and the Middle East on his business trips. And although our correspondent says she knows Ole E.Jean will “definitely tell her to leave him,” and even though she’s frightened that he might infect her and all the girlfriends with HIV “and other STDs,” she tells me right up front that she’s “decided to stay with him.” Her question is not about the potential serial killer she is dating. Her question is: “How should she tell the other women?” The Conflab and I tried to open her eyes and close her vagina.

P.S. We have not heard back from her.

P.P.S. Better gargle. We have one of the cruelest men ever to appear in an Ask E. Jean column up next.