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Sunday, April 24, 2011
Chee Wants to Teach You “Ball Change”
Watch closely, kids. Douche dancin’ ain’t for beginners.
Saturday, April 23, 2011Comment of the Week: Hermit on Hipsterbags
As there is so much genius in the comments threads, I’m gonna start highlighting a Comment of the Week.
This week, the award goes to Hermit for the following in yesterdays Burningbags thread:
—–
Phish may suck, and hipster bags come and go, but give them their small ounce of credit for leaving the safety of their suburban prisons where, like their mothers and fathers before them, they circle their neighborhood cages in a pointless dance of redundancy. The electrical impulses course through the deadened synapses of their broken nervous systems. It drives them onward to inevitability. They flood the highways and interstate loops like lemmings in a high speed funeral procession.
High fences and corrugated metal attempt to hide the ugliness of the machine with grease and blood oozing from corroded mechanized biceps. Motor homes with moldy mattresses, plastic wood and dried semen on the frayed and faded curtains. They turn their heads away pretending not to see. They dazzle their eyes, staring blankly into lighted monitors and screens of plasma while their own corpuscles, blood and plasma become corrupted, eating them as the virus spreads.
A single blackbird tugs at a shredded fabric softener sheet, oblivious to the conformity of the sculpted golf course. A place where emasculated semi-men hide from their domineering wives in a failed attempt to preserve what’s left of their testosterone, which is slowly being extracted from their pores by their women, talking heads on TV sets, and the machine, as it grinds and churns.
Wrap-around uni-shades is already balding and running out of time. Large-breasted, braless and sunburned Earth Mother‘s boobs are maturing into the matronly flesh hammocks Grandma warned her about.
Time is running out.
So drop your acid, endure the dust and hordes of copy-cat, drunken non-conformists, and have Daddy’s Winnebago back by Monday.
——
Wanna nominate a future comment for Comment of the Week? Drop me an email with the comment and thread name.
EDIT: Due to 300+ spam posts overnight, comments have been temporarily disabled for this thread until the Spam Hose is turned onto some other lucky WordPress blog.
Friday, April 22, 2011Friday Thoughts and Links
Your humble narrator is trying to get healthy on this lazy California Friday as he stares at Bropec douche and absolutely perfectly taut and full of firmness and female win, Mira the Tasty Ambiguously Asian Hott, as Vegas brings them together in unholy tandem.
No more HoHos. I’m on a Hostess-less Fast.
For at least a week. Or maybe just three or four days.
I gotta go at least 48 hours.
Ah screw it.
Mmmm… HoHos.
Here’s your links:
RIP to the late, great actress Elisabeth Sladen, “Sarah Jane Smith” from the old Doctor Who. I felt the first pull of the Hott at the age of four while watching Doctor Who on PBS.
The Grieco finds work. Corman style.
Fake intellectual and guy who isn’t as interesting as he thinks he is, NBC’s Brian Williams disses hipsters. Occasional forays into pop culture riffing can’t save the soul of a clown who makes a living offering up false equivalencies with a furrowed brow and a fancy tie.
U.S. Lacrosse now selling douchecessories. Et tu, Lacrosse? Very depressing.
The Faces of Cochella. Kind of like “Faces of Death,” only with less monkey skull and more patchouli.
Stiller and Meara remain comedy legends. Even their stools pwn Carrot Top.
Speaking of comedy, Patton Oswalt rules. “Well here’s Jon Voight’s ballsack!” for the epic win.
Crazy eyed hot chick brings the psycho sexy, goes to Lil’ Wayne Concert, runs into HCwDB legend The Spiker (at 3:20). The Spiker lurks.
But you are not here to watch crazed eyed psycho hotts run around Lil’ Wayne concerts videoing themselves. You are here for pear. Here you go, you’ve been good:
Mmm… like the Battle of Bunker Hill, only with firmer glutes than Martha Washington had.
No idea what I’m saying. Another week has passed. Enjoy its end with spirits and crackers.
Friday, April 22, 2011Graham Wears Some Jesus Bling, Finds Wax Fruit Boob
Graham don’t get out much.
Pushing 40 and living in Jersey City, Queens, just don’t bring the party like Graham thought it would.
But every so often, Graham busts the Jesus Bling.
Okay, why’d I really run this pic?
Barbie Side Boob.
Firm. Plasticy. Pretty and bitable like wax fruit.
It deserved to be observed.
Friday, April 22, 2011Friday Haiku
Homie Ralph watches,
As strippers enact story,
Of America.
Here we see rendered
The heart-rending narrative
Of Poke-n-Hump-Ass
— DarkSock
Red feather squeals, no!
As “walks for doughnuts” watches
Please scalp me quickly
— Master Pee
Ralph strokes his short cue
Eight ball in corner pocket
Indians mess with his game
— THEONETRUEDOUCHE
VInce Neil, on the left,
proves that it’s better to burn
out than fade away
— Mr. White
Many moons ago,
A tax-free casino rose
Sasquatch bought a shirt
— saulgoode42
First our land. Now our
hotts. Get lousy casino
as reparations?
— Dr. Bunsen Honeydouche
Ralph looks like he stole
a samurai’s bamboo breast-
plate…no, he’s just fat.
— idfma
Thursday, April 21, 2011Burningbags
Hey Hippiebags! Phish sucks!
EDIT: As a number of ‘bag hunters in the comments thread pointed out, these are not, in fact, hipsterbags. They are hippiebags. I’ve amended the post to more accurately reflect the tag. Good work, and good point, fellow hunters.
Thursday, April 21, 2011Tiny Taut Tonya Still Out There, Still With Sexy Abs, Still with Douchebags
Yesterday we met Tiny Taut Tonya hangin’ with the Strapperbag.
Today we learn that while her tautness remains of firm haunch and bitable suckle thigh, she also hangs with barely pubescent douchewanks like Tommy Wank.
The misguided notions of the Taut Hott befuddles me.
My HoHos taste pensive and reflective.
Thursday, April 21, 2011Johnny McJohn’s Scarf Fail
But on the plus side, if this New York cookiewank ever decides to go scarf bungee jumping, this might happen.
Coy Elena, her of the downtown poetry readings and cute studio apartment, deserves better. I would buy her tasty rounds of soup dumplings at the downtown Joe’s Shanghai, then provide over an hour of awkward and limited conversation about my analyst before she quickly called a cab and I headed over to The Sugo Bar next to Supper to drown my sorrows in some single malt.
Thursday, April 21, 2011The Dude on the Left is a Shmuck
Sure I could try to come up with a clever name for this Vegasy meatball of toeshmeggery. But it’s early morn on a strangely chilly Thursday in the City of Angels. So the name is not clever. But it is true.
And your humble narrator sits at his computer. And scratches scruff softly.
And knows that little else needs to be said except that the dude on the left is a shmuck.
But Ginger is giving me the fabled “Mayan Eye of Coitus.” And some mornings, that’s enough.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011Ask DB1: Carniebaggery
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Hi DB1,
Is a carnie a douche?
Sure, there are certain habits that spans both the paleo and neo carnies, but douchessories such as back stamp tatt, silly hair style and excessive jewellery are not the things I coveted when dreaming of running away to join the circus as a kid.
— tall guy
—–
The Neo-Carnies, an intellectual offshoot from the Neo-Libationists that began in the 1960s after P.T. Friedman first published, “There’s a Sucker Born Every Minute,” found their seminal text in the late 1980s with Allan Bloombag’s critique of subjectivity in the academy, “The Gelling of the American Hair.”
So, to answer your question, tall guy, yes, anything and everything associated with Cirque Du Soleil is douchey. Ipso Facto.
