HCwDB of the Week
This week’s boobie/douchey combos bring up certain important moral and philosophical questions as we continue down our path of exploration of the dark cultural douchitude that rots our collective wills.
In what moral universe do pumped up uber-scrotebags fondle the perfect backsides of a well formed hottie? Do our understandings of truth and morality take place outside of subjectivity? Or do we redefine those terms in the presence of a luscious pair of firm and succulent ta-tas?
This question is what I like to call “Boobsistentialism.” Do we create our notions of morality and societal structure purely in the interests of attracting the perky boobie? Or does the DB1 need to shut his yap and get on to the finalists?
On that note, I’ll shut my yap and get on to the finalists.
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #1: The Trainwreck
This tremendous digital capture of hottie/douchey wrongness in motion is a veritable thesis paper of douchebaggery.
With pumped up chest, tats, ginormous mandana, douche-face, douche everything, and ass crack jeans, The Trainwrecker himself is on the fast track to ‘Bag Legend.
Hotiticia is adorable, her pefect bod and soft snuggle pink pants make me want to chant humble prayers to Coke bottles with the Bushmen of the Kalahari.
Or Orange Gatorade bottles, as the case may be.
I still haven’t processed this Rorschach test of douchebagger. But the fact it even features a ubiguitous Grey Goose bottle suggests philosophers and archeologists will study this douchezetta stone for decades.
Oh yeah.
And pink toesies I would love like no one was watching.
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #2: Bagfoot 
Bagfoot touches the place of primativity every male goes to when hunting for female companionship in between meals.
He is id-douche.
That section of the frontal lobe that screams “must mount hottie” when you’re on the subway pretending to read the Wall Street Journal.
His pumped up gaze and plucked eyebrows are overwhelmingly douchuous and high in basic rage content. He may lack the markers of a more refined douche, but the way he grips that thigh is enough to make Gandhi run out of bubble gum.
Factor in the shapely army hottie he’s mollesting, his dog tags, and a wonderfully firm glimpse of wonder-bread bottom, and this pic crushes the soul in every way a transcendant HCwDB pic should.
But what’s with the plaid shorts, Bagfoot? Is that part of your alter-identity? Like The Hulk’s purple pants?
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #3: Johnny Blaze
I debated whether or not to hold Johnny Blaze out of the competition, as once I link directly to a MySpace page that epic in its douchosity, it’s almost unfair.
But Johnny Blaze isn’t Joey Porsche, and never the twain shall meet.
So what the heck. He’s up against tough competition, so lets see how far Armani + grease can take one of the classic next gen Douche Transformers like the Blaze.
Oh, and his hottie is all sorts of U. Mass Amherest type English Major goodness. I would take her dancing at Avalon, then make out behind Fenway Park while he friends shouted at her “Come onnnn!! We gotta go!!” Then she’d slip me a wrong number, and I’d stumble off to pee on the Green Monster.
So them’s the three. Three for one. All for none. And by none I mean depressing signs of America’s cultural douchewreck.
Honorable mention goes out to Gummy and the creepy-ass Buble Lips, who both just missed the cut.
Now I turn it over to you, the reader.
Which of the three contains all the elements of a superior HCwDB pic? Remember to consider the following before you vote. Look within. Which pic causes rage, consternation, indigestion, arousal, mimesis, boobies and the desire to smack the ‘bag in the face with a rake?
Zen yourself. Find which one of these three pics rises to the bar. And by bar I mean douche-bar. And record your vote in the comments thread.
