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Wednesday, February 20, 2008
The Millipede
Is that a millipede on your head, or are you just glad to see her?
Okay, this dude’s not really so bad. But I haven’t had my coffee yet.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008Ask DB1
The Douchigal Son writes in regarding the challenges of Youthbaggery:
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DB1,
I am a young forming mind and body of nineteen and I can’t help but feel I am slipping off the tightrope of decency.
I used to be a very tactful and amiable guy, but as of late I seem to be becoming welled up in arrogant defense-mechanismy indolent ambition and lust for the ‘hott’. Such ambition alienates my friends, and such hott-lust takes up more than acceptable thoughtspace.
I went to a club last night and pulled s#@t I never thought my appendages could do. I went up behind dancing hotts and proceeded to surreptitiously grope them or attempt to grind. I ditched my kindly friend to search for more ‘acceptable’ gropage.
I realize it is at more of a creeper stage as I am so far able to withhold feigning confidence. I did however bust out the acting chops and pretend to be having fun dancing to attract an orient-a-hott. Is douchitude the letting go or ‘putting-off’ the as of yet frustratingly unyielding idealism?
I am scared,
The Douchigal Son
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Do not be scared, D.S. The urge to woo with the woo-hotties is one that grips us all like musty cheetos on the fingers. For female readers, the urge to bump-n-grind like rhesus monkeys on crack occasionally overtakes even the shrewdest of hotties in the presence of a greased up and shaved douche-chest.
The purging of The ‘Bag Within is a challenge we all face in our attempts to woo the boobie, and the boobies face to resist their inexplicable attraction to bling and crusty foreheads.
One must realize that there is no end game, no conclusion, no finish line. We are all in process. We are always examining and reexamining the over caffeinated spectacle of purchased identity in this age of media saturation multitasking hyper-stimulation simulation.
Know this.
In the land when the image is king, challenging the image becomes a revolutionary act.
We all will occasionally douche out in service of chasing the thigh-suckle worthy hott. The challenge is to reach a state of awareness. To see the spectacle for what it is. And push for that higher truth.
Only then will the douche simulacrum cease its cacophonous noise spectacle once and for all.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008A Rose by Any Other Name…
PIC DELETED
Miami Mice
Miami Beach never looked so toxic.
And even though Cheekboned Platinum Hott is overly made up, borderline stripper and looks like she’d wreck my credit rating, I’d still listen to her whine about how some manager she met in South Beach isn’t returning her calls after they hooked up, just for the chance to buy her another 14 dollar mojito.
Because I’m a sucker.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008The Blaze is Back
Hey kids, look who’s back!!
Why it’s 2007 Douchie Award Winner, Johnny Blaze!! Back in da hauz, and with a brand new cutie he can doggie ‘bag in style with.
The Orange seems to have faded a bit, and the shirts are growing a bit yuppified for my tastes. Why the pullback Johnny B? Don’t change on our account.
But the hair is still cactii goodness. And there’s probably that whiff. A brand new bottle of Tag Bodyshot.
Because the ladiez love the smell of kitchen cleanser.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008A.J's Sweat
Sure, to you and I it appears to be a toxic mixture of human perspiration, baking powder, Crisco, L.A. Looks hair gel and Axe Bodyspray.
But there are African tribes in The Congo that believe A.J’s Sweat can cure rickets, Lyme disease and crotch itch.
She is a delightful mix of pouty sin that tempts even the most jaded of heterosexuals.
Monday, February 18, 2008'Strailian Autopsy
While the world recovers from the strangely heroic Australian uberdouchosity that was Corey Worthington, The Dingo who threw the house party / riot last month, we get this reader mail from Oz:
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DB1-
Here’s a friend of a friend of a friend, I don’t think it needs much explaining.
There’s a few shots of douchebaggery (hey, he was a big brother contestant) I’ll let you pick the one you like best.
Great site.
— Yahoo Douchuous
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Nope, no explanation needed.
Where’s Wez to drive up on his motorcycle and shotgun this Aussie tool all the way back to the early 1980s when you need him.
Monday, February 18, 2008Metaphysicality and Douchebagggery
I believe it was the philosopher Soren Kierkegaard who first asked us, “Why does douchebaggery smell like poo?”
Or maybe it was The Village People.
I always get my depressing existential philosophy and 1970s disco confused.
Which, if you stop and think about it, aren’t that different. Both make us question meaning in a cold and cruel universe.
But only one features cymbals every 1/4 note.
Monday, February 18, 2008'Bag Tagging
Erin writes in with a West Coast ‘bag tag:
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DB1-
So I met this guy last night and I was incredibly embarrassed to be seen with him in a club. I kind of noticed this type of hair style is popular on the east coast. He said he’s from New York so I figured this is what an east coast douche bag looks like.
Sincerely,
Erin from Los Angeles
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Nice ‘Bag Tag, Erin. It seems you have captured the rare east coast Mendouchulous Oblongdoblus, or what is generally described as A Brooklyn Scrote.
While occasionally some manage to migrate to the West Coast, it is rare indeed. Excellent work to capture and ‘bag tag such a devious scrotundae in picture form. Such spottings should be cherished.
Like when I spotted a Duck Billed Platypus losing at a craps table at the Wynn in Vegas. At least I think that’s what I saw. Stupid alcohol.
Monday, February 18, 2008The Tosser II
Yup. The Tosser is all sorts of wrong.
Throwing douche grenades in the club like a mixture of Kid Rock, Uncle Fester, Scott Weiland, and Warwick Davis in mid-battle pose.
Yeah, I just made a Willow reference. Because Ron Howard is an underrated directing genius.
And by genius, I mean frequently employed.
Pink has the meaty arms of delightful perfection. She gives angels inferiority complexes and makes old men curse the arbitrary years of their birth.
I would enroll in summer classes at Arizona State and help her study for her “Theater Design” course in a dorm common area just for the chance to sneak glances at the fingerprint residue on her iPod.
Then she would date a guy named Chip.
And I would dislike Chip.
