Thursday, January 31, 2013

    Hammocks For Sale!

    Hammocks

    Two for a dollar!

    Just remember, Ashley. When they claim it’s a dollar, it might just be two dimes and a quarter.

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    # posted by douchebag1
    Thursday, January 31, 2013

    The DB1 on a Thursday Morning

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    No, that’s not me in the picture.

    If I were to get a giant tattoo on my Jewish ass it would feature only a giant bagel with lox on it taking a dump on the corpse of rotting Zombie Hitler.

    Because that’s how Jewtatts roll.

    That, or I’d get a tatt of Kelly’s bazongagongs as an ironic commentary on sexuality and patriarchy, causing gender confusion among our children for generations to come.

    But I digress.

    So. This morning. I woke up. Fell out of bed. Dragged a comb across my yadda yadda.

    And for those of you who have ever dragged a comb across your yadda yadda, I don’t recommend it. You get the bristles stuck in the prickles!

    Baddaboom!

    Gold, Jerry. Gold.

    I had some quality hot and squirty Donut Shop K-Cup action.

    Then I had nothing to do.

    So I neutered my ferret.

    No, not literally.

    My actual ferret, “Mr. Pancho,” remains a virile and passionate lover.

    No, by “neutered my ferret,” that’s actually an expression from the Victorian era that refers to the act of torturing street urchins who fail to chimney sweep in the proper counter-clockwise direction.

    And on that non-sequitor, I head for more coffee.

    Whaddaya want, brilliant prose? The site’s free, bub.

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    # posted by douchebag1
    Wednesday, January 30, 2013

    Wallnuts After Dark: Frank ‘n The Boys

    BoobStare
    Legendary Douchebag Hunter and owner of this here site, DB1, asked me how Sinatra and the rest a the guys interacted with dames back in the day.

    That’s a good question there, DB.

    There obviously weren’t no textin’ or Internet or nothin’ like that, so the guys, for the most part, actually had ta talk to broads face to face.

    Now some a the guys was real crude, but you’d be amazed by how so many dames was so star struck they’d respond to anything. Except to Rickles, as you all know by now.

    One time when we was filmin’ “Ocean’s 11″  Buddy Lester tole some broad he wanted to, “Drive his bike trew her mud puddle,” and she went for it! But Sinatra would never say somethin’ like that. He’d write somethin’ like, “You are the most darling creature that I have ever seen and I would love to meet you and get to know you.”  Now he coulda been sayin’ somethin’ in Chinese or jibberish like, “Cockey moomen Hanukkah dreck,” and he still woulda got laid. But he enjoyed the seduction. Ya mean?

    When he was done, he always treated dames right. Made ‘em breakfast, brushed their hair, drove ‘em home. That’s why you ain’t never heard a any stories from pissed off dames he banged. All the other guys would get jammed up from time to time and had ta scramble to cover their tracks. But not Frank. Not never.

    I’ll tell ya, there’s nothing wrong with progress. Anyone who remembers when Hi-Fis was able to be in Stereo instead a Mono knows that progress is good. Do any a youse even know what Mono is, have you ever listened to music in Mono? Madonna mia!

    Now that I think of it, I been readin’ about how vinyl records is comin’ back. I don’t know how I feel about that; records sounded good but it was a pain in the ass with the scratches and the needles and if your kids walked into the room and were jumpin’ around the friggin’ record could skip and God forbid you scratched the album and it would skip every time you played that tune. I remember buyin’ the Sinatra Live at the Sands with the Count Basie Band album and the first day I dropped the friggin’ needle on the record and made a scratch on the opening track, “Come Fly With Me,”and it ruined my week. I had to go out and lift another one.

    Now me, I like the 8-track tape. I got the complete Sinatra collection on 8-track, baby. These babies can get runned over by a semi rig and not skip a beat. Of course, it sounds like you’re listenin’ to music trew a pillow.

    The Twitter and the Facebook and that other thing that lets you post pictures and add comments to them, and all a the other societal media don’t make it no easier to meet and talk with dames, or anyone for that matter. People think these things represent progress and maybe in some sense they is progress, but is it really progress?

    I know Dean never would a posted his spur a the moment thoughts on the Twitter or started a beef with another guy by sendin’ a Tweeter usin’ misspelled words, remoticons or whatever the fuck they’s called, and phrases like, “U suxxor, the Pack is 1337,” or “My last album pwned urs n00b! :))”

    So maybe we weren’t as advanced with all a these gizmos and things, but we knew how to talk to people and how to treat ‘em and weren’t hidin’ behind a cell phone or computer.

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    # posted by DoucheyWallnuts
    Wednesday, January 30, 2013

    Julius McAsswipe Sails on a Boat, Wears Muscle Tee, Fondles His Step-sister

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    I haven’t been this disturbed about quasi-incest since this happened.

    Frankie says, “Douchelax.”

    The 80s called. They want people to stop saying that they called to make a point that your fashion is out of style since they didn’t actually call since a decade can’t actually operate a telephone.

    Got nuthin’.

    I need a coffee.

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    # posted by douchebag1
    Wednesday, January 30, 2013

    “No More Gynochin”

    gynochin8Numerous readers have written in and begged me to stop with the Gynocular douchetrocities that remind us of the dog days of 2011.

    Nay, I say!

    Nay!

    Neigh?

    Nay!

    For we must witness!

    That is our duty!

    With a douche-jaw like that, and a bevy of hotties in tow, what else ya gotta do on a Wednesday? Don’t tell me you have a job.

    Pshaw, said the cat.

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    # posted by douchebag1
    Tuesday, January 29, 2013

    Ask the Reverend

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    Q. Dear Reverend Chad, are Canadian chicks easier than American chicks? Pearce “Ma” Nipples III.

    A. French Canadian girls are more promiscuous than American chicks cause they are all stoned and bi-sexual,Son. I don’t know personally about the American chicks cause my member was always well groomed by the chicks I rolled with and the sacred Mrs. Kroeger and Quebec teenage hookers I cheat on her with on the bias. Bobs. All chicks I grooved were drunk and stoned, cause that’s the way I rock. Son.

    Q. Dear Reverend Chadster, what do you think about having relations with a girl in menses? In Canada? Wiping locations? Hugh Wypter

    A. I always said, ‘ If a woman can’t stand the smell of ya from working to provide dinner for the family.. then that woman’s going out to work. Son

    Q: Dear Reverend Chad, I got these two dead clowns I gotta get rid of. Antoniso Prano.

    A: Dude. I’m not getting complicit. Watch the fifth season of Criminal Minds. And tanning fluids. From a tanner. Like lye and rotted dog urine. Not orange. A bit of HCL if ya got a bit by the pool.

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    # posted by The Reverend Chad Kroeger
    Tuesday, January 29, 2013

    Gynochin Points At His Future of Fraudulence and Lies

    gynochin4

    Gynochin may be a slot hustler from the dog days of Wall Street con, a pretend faux-pimp dressed in the cloth of the hustler businessman.

    Cindy may be with Gynochin because her uncomprehending parents from Westchester judge a boyfriend more by the car he drives (White BMW 535) than by any other metric.

    And so Cindy is confused.

    And so we judge her only mildly for her trespass.

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    # posted by douchebag1
    Tuesday, January 29, 2013

    Sid Squisheous Hangs Out Poolside in Vegas

    Sid-Squishous-pukes-poolside

    Sid Squisheous definitely shouldn’t have eaten the lobster.

    And by lobster, he means crabs.

    Yup. Another crabs joke. But that’s how Sid Squisheous rolls when he gets all up in the faux-punk aesthetic. He doesn’t deserve an original joke. So he gets the lobster/crabs.

    Not sure what to do with your hottie on Valentine’s Day? Vegas has got some dating ideas. None of them involve Sid Squisheous, however. So we got that going for us.

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    # posted by douchebag1
    Monday, January 28, 2013

    Meaty the Sandcrab Makes a Wish, Becomes a Douchebag, Finds Kelly

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    …and they lived happily after after.

    Or at least until the magic Bacardi ran out, the parking tickets turned into a summons, and the groin rash turned a disturbing shade of purple.

    All this, and more! In the long-lost unabridged Aesop’s Fable, “Meaty the Sandcrab And The Magic Lip Herp.”

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    # posted by douchebag1
    Monday, January 28, 2013

    Breaking: The Porn Industry is Just HCwDB With More Nudity (and the Lip Herp)

    PornWedding

    Yes. Yes it is.

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    # posted by douchebag1
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