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Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Timmy Hoverbag
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.
If you get in the way of a pic of sapphic inspiration, no matter how undouchey you are, you earn an automatic autodouche.
Get out of the way, Timmy. There’s improv taking place.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011Guy Who Flips Off Camera With Hot Chick Guy
It’s like that fortune I got at Bamboo House last night:
“Guy Who Flip Off Camera With Hottie Some Day Flip Hottie with Camera Off.”
They just don’t write fortunes like they used to.
Cue random Bruce Leroy footage.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011“Wiggas And the Pear”
An excerpt from Shel Silverstein’s lesser known work, “Wiggas and the Pear”:
—–
Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me Poo
Went for a ride in a flying douche crew.
“Word up!”
“What fun!”
“He smells like poo!”
Said Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me Poo.
Ickle was captain, and Pickle was Poo
And Tickle served Red Bull and hip hop stew
As higher
And higher
And higher they flew,
Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me Poo.
Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me Poo,
Over the strippers and beyond the “Woo!”.
“Hold on!”
“Stay in!”
“I hope we do!”
Cried Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me Poo.
Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Poo
Never returned to the world they knew,
And nobody
Knows what’s
Happened to
Dear Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me Poo.
—–
Burning Crotch
Somewhere in San Francisco’s Mission District, an earthy coffee chain that uses only recycled products and filtered water is missing a barista.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011Ode to Tommy Pak
This is what happens when Mitch and Bobby invite two Bennington Girls to Mitch’s parents house up in Burlington, and then Mitch finds the absynthe.
Either that, or it’s an ode to this guy.
Monday, September 26, 2011Somewhere in Glendale…
…a Toyota Dealership is missing a salesman.
Monday, September 26, 2011Granpa Olebag Got Game
Granpa Olebag approves of the HCwDB of the Week.
And he approves of his Grandaughta’s besties.
If you knowamean.
His layabout meth dealing great nephews, not so much.
Monday, September 26, 2011HCwDB of the Week: Tommy Pak, Giggle Ladies with Daddy Issues, and the Hand of the Collective Unconscious
While last week was a notoriously toxic week for douche tatts, what with The Skin Show, the creepy neck hitting on innocence of Coprophagia, yet more from Crazy Eyes Killa (1/2 of the Greasepitz), and the heinous Tatticus Finch.
Yech. Seriously depressing realities of our overstimulated, overtatted culture.
THen there was D.J. Assholio and Random Pocahontas Girl, the Greek myth of Pecopoulous, the jaundice of Old Man Liver, and the great news of Bankrupt Preppiebag.
But none were more poisonous to the ecosystem than this unholy pairing.
Maria and Consuela hate their father, Mario, for uprooting them from Uraguay and moving them to Arizona.
Tommy Pak is uberpudwack. The Hand of the Collective Unconscious speaks for all of us. And adds a delightful touch of the surreal to this kinetic mess.
Chalk this classic Vegas Clownpud and tasty latina burritas for the next Monthly.
And your hungover narrator for early morning HoHos and milk. Cuz I’m healthy like that.
Sunday, September 25, 2011The Krumps Are Not All Right
Well since that Persian Fugs video was somehow removed just after getting posted, lets all observe this puddly wiggling twitching with performative palsy.
Talented kids in service of the ‘bag virus is talent wasted.
Sunday, September 25, 2011Persian Fugs
The last vestiges of British colonialism remain, as Homi Bhabha or Edward Said might argue, in the cultural artifacts of alienation and psychoanalytic doublings.
Or in the greasy gell hair of two Persian Fugwanks.
WARNING: Minimal hott counterbalance. Apparently, the Persian Hotts heard there was a sale on white BMWs on the same day of the video shoot.
