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The King of Sears (aka Starry Blight) and Hello Kitty Hott Dance on a Bed at a Club
Growing and greased up HCwDB legend in the making (but not yet Hall of Scrote inductee) The Starry Blight, and his standard bottle blonde inflat-a-bleeth Hello Kitty Hott are starting to demonstrate a distinct longevity in hottie/douchey toxic display.
Let’s see.
2. No apparent means of employment or financing
3. Douchal signifiers in enough concentration to tranquilize Will Ferrell at a birthday party
4. Really, really, and I mean really bad tatts
Hmm. Our 2010 Douchie Winner for Douchiest Tatt is putting in an epic run. Vegas oddsmakers are upping the possibility of a Hall of Scrote nom if they keep this prodigious output up over the next few seasons.
Reader Mail: Melissa Went to High School With The Starry Blight
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First off, I want to tell you how much I love this site. It has brought me hours of tearful laughter and joy. I even had a Hot Chicks With Douchebags themed birthday party a couple years ago.
Now, I went to high school with this douchebag. A few days ago a friend of mine that I went to high school with forwarded me the link to his Facebook page. It was amazing. Instantly, this website popped into my head.
He was a skeevy little slimeball then, and it’s nice to see that not much has changed. The more things change, the more they stay the same right?
-Dyed spiky hair? check
-HUGE Tattoo of poor quality of his own name on his torso? Check
-Overpriced outfits that scream “I’m just trying too hard?” Check
-The same creepy cold serial rapist expression in every picture? CHECK!
I would like you to understand how hard it was to just pick three pictures of this supreme douche nugget.
Enjoy.
– Melissa
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Excellent tag, Melissa. The Blight, aka “The King of Sears,” along with his tasty Bleethy Hello Kitty Hott, is fast becoming a scrotal legend.
The Starry Blight Classes It Up
Our 2010 Douchie Award winner for Douchiest Tatt, The Starry Blight, aka The King of Sears, doesn’t always hang with Hello Kitty Hott and a gaggle of ‘bags by the pool.
Sometimes, The Starry Blight likes to class up the joint. All with a tie on and shizz. Looking like a gangster Soviet-era meth dealer on Ambien.
Hello Kitty Hott is all that is contradictorially Bleethy/Hott in the douchadox.
Starry Blight
Uhm… yeah.
On the bright side, the chance of a meteor destroying all life on earth as we know it is .0004%.
So we got that going for us. Which is nice.
Electronica + Asswankery = Asstronica
PO writes in:
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Cosplay meets Douchebaggery at the Electric Daisy Carnival 2013 in Vegas.
The hostess with the mostest is Kina Tavarozi, apparently some sort of Vegas personality, with a tiny, taut little body, and rare earth magnetism for attracting DBs.
These guys all need monikers.
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If mine eyes don’t deceiveth me, them there’s legendary HCwDB paid-to-HCwDBers Hello Kitty Hott and the King of Sears aka The Starry Blight. Only those most epic of douchepoo can continue to make hand gestures and Run with the Goose for years upon years.
And so we salute them. With a middle finger and our collective scorn for the vapid wastes of lives that they represent.
Friday Thoughts and Links
Might be time to put The King of Sears aka The Starry Blight in the Hall of Scrote. Just too much epic douchery over too many years.
And Hello Kitty Hott’s strange attractiveness has its own magnetic pull, despite her attempts to hide her white trash trailer park background like Clarice did in front of Hannibal Lechter.
Together, they make custard poo.
Your humb narrs enjoys post-rainy L.A. and dances in the falling leaves of his tree.
For the mail has come. More Netflixed 1970s -era Doctor Who.
It’s the little things in life.
Here’s your links:
Your HCwDB Broadway Musical CD of the Week: “In this part of Africa, we ALL have a saying – whenever something bad happens,
we just throw our hands up to the sky and say HASA DIGA EEBOWAI!”
White People Mourning Mitt Romney. Schadenfreude, thy name is sad anglos.
Now that Romney has more free time on his hands, I’m hoping he can go back to retroactively baptizing my relatives who died in the Holocaust into the Mormon faith in secret creepy-ass bathtubs in Utah.
Think I made that last thing up? Ask Mormon Anne Frank.
Okay, that’s it on current events. Back to the mock.
Ever wonder what Peter Pumpin’Head and Mary Mammageddon would dress up as for Halloween? Now you know.
Ever get the feeling the DB1 is totally out of comedy ideas and is simply recycling characters over and over again? Well aren’t you the clever one. Have some Champagne Katie with fellow hotties.
Europeans love their Pear. I don’t know what that sign says, but I like to imagine it’s a protest against public loitering.
Nothing says mofo badass quite like The Young and the Restless logo.
As to my upcoming art show at the Guggenheim in 2023, I have a new piece I’ve been working on for awhile. I call it “Benzio Du Horse #37.”
How’s about some pear?
More? Okay. You’ve been good.
Relax with lake pear. For Friday has come again, as it does 1/7th of the time.
HCwDB of the Week: Joey Lumpcrustowitz and Kate
I must’ve been tipsy on rice wine last week not to realize that Joey Lumpcrustowitz and Kate were the same hottie/douchey poolaggery combo that appeared on Friday as Spencer and Sexy Lacey.
So even with a two week back catalogue of hottie/douchey pukosity to wade through, this was an easy HCwDB of the Week.
No ‘bag/hotts came close to this level of innovative douchal development (Jesus Bling tatt) and lithe pool suckle hot poochle in Kate’s taut, albeit a tad too skinny body.
And there were some notable ones. The two that nearly took the price: Dances with Crabs, Stands with Cosmo and Scratches with Itch, and Muttonchop Max and Megan. Both brought itchy wrongness to the game.
And lets not forget the pewey poolbaggery of Shrinky Dink and Karen.
Also notable over the past two weeks, the return appearances from HCwDB legends like Brazilian Emo Hulk, old friend Big Red, Unfinished Tatt Guy and Gorgeous Sandy, Prickles the Clown, The Starry Blight and Hello Kitty Hott and The Greasepitz.
Nor shall we forget Perfect Sucklechomp Amanda. Whose leg I hump pensively in the abstract and with full due respect.
But who are we kiddin’?
For sheer classic ‘bag pukeshoescrape and tasty if slightly underfed hottitude, Joey Lumpcrustowitz and Vegas Kate were not to be denied.
Slot ’em for the next Monthly. And slot me for a microwavable breakfast burrito. Cuz I’m healthy like that.
HCwDB of the Week: Ronnie the Rivethead and Woo Girl Kelly
Last week was a week for visits from old friends.
And by “old friends,” I mean legendary uberdouche mockworthy hyperpuds who deserve nothing but scorn and a good showering of epithets and mock. Like The King, The Starry Blight and Hello Kitty Hott, the legend that is Smoot, and we even found The Starhawk hangs with Hello Kitty Hott and The King.
But amidst the classics, we found a new and distinct pud macking on hott in the douchiest of ways. Ronnie The Rivethead, and the tastiest of party girl woo hotties, Woo Girl Kelly.
As reader DarkSock put it at the time:
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Ronnie, a veteran of the 2007 U.S. led invasion of Homoslavia, threw himself onto a Faberge’ Egg grenade to save his platoon. He lost the use of his left nut and eventually lost his taste for girls and barbeque; eventually diagnosed by the VA as suffering from Post-Dramatic Ass Disorder.
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DarkSock’s backstory is both metaphorical, as well as literal. Ronnie’s sagging pimple flesh and diaper, plus Woo Girl Kelly’s ridiculous hottness, was too toxic a combo to ignore.
A well deserving HCwDB of the Week coupling, and the last of our entries before next week’s open vote for HCwDB of the Month.
Also, props to Grampa Joel. Who still wins at the game of life. As well as Mahjong by the Ft. Lauderdale pool at 2pm.
HCwDB of the Week: The 'Baggle Axe and the Marissa Sisters
In the first real HCwDB of the Week upset of the summer, the Stars (Starry Blight and Starhawk) split the vote like Joan Plowright and Vanessa Redgrave at the ’92 Oscars, allowing the Groin Shave Revealing toxicity of the ‘Baggle Axe and real world hottness of the Marissa Sisters (yet more ’92 Oscars parallel) to take the prize.
The voters speak:
melvil duchi: The ‘Baggle Axe and the Marissa Sisters. Shoulder tattoo? – check. aviator sunglasses worn inside? – check. gold helmet? – check. huge belt buckle? – check. leather pants? – check. GSR?- check. run, Marissa Sisters, run
Dicy: Get away sweet Marissa sisters before you loose your modest and flirty fashion sense and wind up looking like Hello Kat, yuck! Did I mention GSR and sunglasses inside? Whatta douche.
Et Tu Douche?: The Marissa’s, specifically the one in the middle, are Hott in a naive kind of way. The Baggle Axe is Douche in a gladiator/300 way which make him even more disturbing.
Douchelips: Those sisters are real and many of you would tag them if you had the chance. So hotts they are. The ‘Baggle Axe, has a ridiculous helmet, disgusting abs, the dreaded 2010 ‘bag move of the year: the GSR, and a stupid tatt.
justadouchalo: Hands down, Baggle Axe and the Marissa Sisters for the win. Rename the site “Skanks with Douchebags” and I’ll reconsider, but that’s a whole other can of worms, and by ‘can of worms’ I mean the can of worms that Kat is fixing (we say fixing in Kentucky) to scratch out of her bikini.
Business-Casual Douche: The baggle axe represents the unbridled masculine ego–the Y chromosome manifest, if you will. He is like Daniel Plainview from “There Will Be Blood”, but without capitalistic aspirations, or a mustache.
Fatness: Baggle Axe and the Marissa Sisters. Marissa #3 wants to do things her father will never find out about. To me.
Bagnonymous: I vote the ‘Baggle Axe and the Marissa Sisters in the hopes that they may be saved by extensive mocking. And by my penis.
Poultry Turd: condemn Baggle Axe for stealing Great Grandpa’s treasured WWII helmet out of the attic and spray-bombing it with a can of gold DuPont paint.
Medusa Oblongata: Their natural, modest, midwestern bodies stand in appalling contrast to his manorexic, overflexed, GSRd display of absurdness. You can do better, Marissa sisters. Leave this one to troll for herp-infested gash at the Rehab pool.
Douchè said: No, Mr. Axe. This is NOT Sparta.
Lady Godiva’s Piebald: the baggle axe is every bit the damnable douche, and the women he’s with might still actually do things with men without the exchange of currency or gifts being involved or implied. this rates him an order of magnitude more douchey than the starry slurry above.
dbBen: It just seems like this is where it all begins from the hott’s perspective. The Marissa sisters take a trip to Las Vegas, go to some crass show that has “thrust” written in a $35 font, take a picture with The ‘Baggle Axe, go home to Connecticut and start a positive feedback loop with some stage 1 baggling ultimately producing the heir to Donkey Lips.
I’m definitely surprised that the semi-costumed ‘Baggle Axe overtook the bucktoothed pinkshirtitudes and trashy hottitudes of both the Starhawk and Starry Blights. But perhaps it was real world hottie/douchey dialectic that triumphed over Vegas spectacle. That and toxic groin shave reveal. Coming in second, Starry Blight:
douche bagel: starhawk is harmless douche. baggle axe is very annoying douche. starry blight gives me reflex to punch computer and injure a small animal.
Tony Ventresca: Pneumatic Pink Bikini’s massive pneumatic chest pimples tip the scales in favour of #2. Therefore, #2 for the win.
Chris in ‘Baghdad: Her bleethed out vapid look complements nicey King of Sears’ pudly arrogrance. His fake dogtag/razor blade bling sets off a perfect douchecolletage.
Shish_kebag: The starry blight for the win and by win I mean mocking him until he cries himself to sleep for three days. That crown tattoo strongly resembles a delicaressen restaurant we have here in Quebec. And for the Hello Kat I think the name should have been the Shallow Kat, but hey who am I to critisize the names.
Disconnected: Starry Blight it has to be. Surely he is a secret priest of Chtulu, wearing the star on his head so that he can be part of that final alignment which awakens the dread god from his deep slumber at the bottom of the ocean…
End the Haberdouchery: The Starry Blight. I have to figure out why someone would tattoo “Shart” on their chest. I bet Kat’s snatch has had more sausages running around in it than Miller Park during the sixth inning sausage races. Shart and Kat FTW, and always bet on bratwurst.
Eliza Douchecoo: The King of Sears should win the weekly for being a a huge douche with stupid swim trunks, stupid tattoos, stupid spikey hair and ridiculous (stupid) sunglasses.
Colossus of Choads: Gotta be Starry Blight. Stop radiating that ‘tude man, just because someone said you were “good looking” once.
The Blight is toxic, well argued. Just not toxic enough to create douche aura. And barely coming in third, just one push away from second or even first place, the surprisingly underachieving Starhawk:
Battlescrote Gallactica: The Starhawk for the win…. He is to douchery what Ron Popeil is to infomercials. “Set it and forget it!”
ehcuodouche: Starhawk. I vote for anyone who stains quartasian hottness with the stench of axe and taint. Despite hours practising his signage, hawk remains as gangster as Gomer Pyle.
opie sardonicus: Oh, for a woodburning kit and time enough to burn Starhawk’s concentric constellation permanently into his pointy li’l head. Just the smell makes me giddy.
Justin: Starhawk’s face is too punchable for words. I gotta vote, as usual, for the high level of punchability.
Tall Guy: Baggle Axe’s groin shave reveal deserves a mention. As does The King of Sears’ look of superiority. But Starhawk, in an effort to elevate his whiney sneering presence to a higher state of being, takes such a comprehensive each way bet with his use of accessories that I am forced to cast my vote in his direction – in lieu of a large, glass-encrusted stone.
Starhawk didn’t win because he didn’t bring the innocent hotts the way the ‘Baggle Axe did. Lets turn it over to Hall of Mock veteran Troy Tempest to take us home:
Baggle Axe is every bit the ‘nozzle the other two are. He is a roided out greased up retarded boob surrounded by perfectly reasonable and sweet young women. The amount of contrast in this picture makes ET and Tyler look like blood brothers. Every time someone looks at this picture, a flock of morning doves flies into a woodchipper out of shame for living in the universe where this could happen.
Indeed, many doves have been woodchipped due to the ‘Baggle Axe’s G.S.R. So the ‘Baggle and the Marissas for the Monthly, and the DB1 for peppermint tea due to a hangover.
HCwDB of the Week: The ‘Baggle Axe and the Marissa Sisters
In the first real HCwDB of the Week upset of the summer, the Stars (Starry Blight and Starhawk) split the vote like Joan Plowright and Vanessa Redgrave at the ’92 Oscars, allowing the Groin Shave Revealing toxicity of the ‘Baggle Axe and real world hottness of the Marissa Sisters (yet more ’92 Oscars parallel) to take the prize.
The voters speak:
melvil duchi: The ‘Baggle Axe and the Marissa Sisters. Shoulder tattoo? – check. aviator sunglasses worn inside? – check. gold helmet? – check. huge belt buckle? – check. leather pants? – check. GSR?- check. run, Marissa Sisters, run
Dicy: Get away sweet Marissa sisters before you loose your modest and flirty fashion sense and wind up looking like Hello Kat, yuck! Did I mention GSR and sunglasses inside? Whatta douche.
Et Tu Douche?: The Marissa’s, specifically the one in the middle, are Hott in a naive kind of way. The Baggle Axe is Douche in a gladiator/300 way which make him even more disturbing.
Douchelips: Those sisters are real and many of you would tag them if you had the chance. So hotts they are. The ‘Baggle Axe, has a ridiculous helmet, disgusting abs, the dreaded 2010 ‘bag move of the year: the GSR, and a stupid tatt.
justadouchalo: Hands down, Baggle Axe and the Marissa Sisters for the win. Rename the site “Skanks with Douchebags” and I’ll reconsider, but that’s a whole other can of worms, and by ‘can of worms’ I mean the can of worms that Kat is fixing (we say fixing in Kentucky) to scratch out of her bikini.
Business-Casual Douche: The baggle axe represents the unbridled masculine ego–the Y chromosome manifest, if you will. He is like Daniel Plainview from “There Will Be Blood”, but without capitalistic aspirations, or a mustache.
Fatness: Baggle Axe and the Marissa Sisters. Marissa #3 wants to do things her father will never find out about. To me.
Bagnonymous: I vote the ‘Baggle Axe and the Marissa Sisters in the hopes that they may be saved by extensive mocking. And by my penis.
Poultry Turd: condemn Baggle Axe for stealing Great Grandpa’s treasured WWII helmet out of the attic and spray-bombing it with a can of gold DuPont paint.
Medusa Oblongata: Their natural, modest, midwestern bodies stand in appalling contrast to his manorexic, overflexed, GSRd display of absurdness. You can do better, Marissa sisters. Leave this one to troll for herp-infested gash at the Rehab pool.
Douchè said: No, Mr. Axe. This is NOT Sparta.
Lady Godiva’s Piebald: the baggle axe is every bit the damnable douche, and the women he’s with might still actually do things with men without the exchange of currency or gifts being involved or implied. this rates him an order of magnitude more douchey than the starry slurry above.
dbBen: It just seems like this is where it all begins from the hott’s perspective. The Marissa sisters take a trip to Las Vegas, go to some crass show that has “thrust” written in a $35 font, take a picture with The ‘Baggle Axe, go home to Connecticut and start a positive feedback loop with some stage 1 baggling ultimately producing the heir to Donkey Lips.
I’m definitely surprised that the semi-costumed ‘Baggle Axe overtook the bucktoothed pinkshirtitudes and trashy hottitudes of both the Starhawk and Starry Blights. But perhaps it was real world hottie/douchey dialectic that triumphed over Vegas spectacle. That and toxic groin shave reveal. Coming in second, Starry Blight:
douche bagel: starhawk is harmless douche. baggle axe is very annoying douche. starry blight gives me reflex to punch computer and injure a small animal.
Tony Ventresca: Pneumatic Pink Bikini’s massive pneumatic chest pimples tip the scales in favour of #2. Therefore, #2 for the win.
Chris in ‘Baghdad: Her bleethed out vapid look complements nicey King of Sears’ pudly arrogrance. His fake dogtag/razor blade bling sets off a perfect douchecolletage.
Shish_kebag: The starry blight for the win and by win I mean mocking him until he cries himself to sleep for three days. That crown tattoo strongly resembles a delicaressen restaurant we have here in Quebec. And for the Hello Kat I think the name should have been the Shallow Kat, but hey who am I to critisize the names.
Disconnected: Starry Blight it has to be. Surely he is a secret priest of Chtulu, wearing the star on his head so that he can be part of that final alignment which awakens the dread god from his deep slumber at the bottom of the ocean…
End the Haberdouchery: The Starry Blight. I have to figure out why someone would tattoo “Shart” on their chest. I bet Kat’s snatch has had more sausages running around in it than Miller Park during the sixth inning sausage races. Shart and Kat FTW, and always bet on bratwurst.
Eliza Douchecoo: The King of Sears should win the weekly for being a a huge douche with stupid swim trunks, stupid tattoos, stupid spikey hair and ridiculous (stupid) sunglasses.
Colossus of Choads: Gotta be Starry Blight. Stop radiating that ‘tude man, just because someone said you were “good looking” once.
The Blight is toxic, well argued. Just not toxic enough to create douche aura. And barely coming in third, just one push away from second or even first place, the surprisingly underachieving Starhawk:
Battlescrote Gallactica: The Starhawk for the win…. He is to douchery what Ron Popeil is to infomercials. “Set it and forget it!”
ehcuodouche: Starhawk. I vote for anyone who stains quartasian hottness with the stench of axe and taint. Despite hours practising his signage, hawk remains as gangster as Gomer Pyle.
opie sardonicus: Oh, for a woodburning kit and time enough to burn Starhawk’s concentric constellation permanently into his pointy li’l head. Just the smell makes me giddy.
Justin: Starhawk’s face is too punchable for words. I gotta vote, as usual, for the high level of punchability.
Tall Guy: Baggle Axe’s groin shave reveal deserves a mention. As does The King of Sears’ look of superiority. But Starhawk, in an effort to elevate his whiney sneering presence to a higher state of being, takes such a comprehensive each way bet with his use of accessories that I am forced to cast my vote in his direction – in lieu of a large, glass-encrusted stone.
Starhawk didn’t win because he didn’t bring the innocent hotts the way the ‘Baggle Axe did. Lets turn it over to Hall of Mock veteran Troy Tempest to take us home:
Baggle Axe is every bit the ‘nozzle the other two are. He is a roided out greased up retarded boob surrounded by perfectly reasonable and sweet young women. The amount of contrast in this picture makes ET and Tyler look like blood brothers. Every time someone looks at this picture, a flock of morning doves flies into a woodchipper out of shame for living in the universe where this could happen.
Indeed, many doves have been woodchipped due to the ‘Baggle Axe’s G.S.R. So the ‘Baggle and the Marissas for the Monthly, and the DB1 for peppermint tea due to a hangover.
