HCwDB of the Year: Gynochin and Brunette Rhea
Alas and alack we have a winner! And by winner, I mean scrotal damnation and eternal hellfire wrapped in a boobie burrito.
The voters have spoketh. And Gynochin and Rhea were the most toxic cohabit of the 2011 Hottie/Douchey era.
From their monthly victory back in February, and including Gynochin with Perky Peri and Gynochin and Rhea and Gynopenis Nose, theirs were a trip down douche-face hott wretchitude wrongness.
Special props to douche equis, who remembered that Gynochin also made two other fantastically douche-facey appearances on the site, first in late 2010 with Gynochin’s Having None of It and then in Friday Thoughts and Links Gynoface.
For extreme doucheyness in presence not just of Hott Rhea, but those other tasty purity hotts, this is a Yearly well earned.
‘Bag hunters, huntresses and boobie hottie suckle thighs, here are your 2011 Douchie Award winners (losers), and the authors of their mock:
Clearest Proof of Natural Selection: Peter Pumpin’head and Mary Mammageddon (DarkSock)
Hottest Girl Next Door Hott: Hottie Heather (douche equis)
Douchiest Hand Gesture: He is Not the Greatest (tall guy)
Greasiest Grease Stain: Mister Zebracrotch(musicfanatic)
Most Trashcan to the Head Worthy: Gynochin (Medusa Oblongata)
Douchiest Hair: The Kennedy Headwound ‘Bag
The Ricky: Morty the Happy Rocker (Mr. White)
Froiest Fro: D.J. Froholio
Hottest Librarian Hott: Megan (The Dude)
Most Expensive First Date Hott: Champagne Katie (Doc Bunsen Honeydouche)
Most Euro Eurobag: Dieter Von Choaalsmark (The Reverend Chad Kroeger)
Douchiest ‘Bag Trend: The “Ink Dicky” (Mr. Scrotato Head)
Most Vegasy Vegasbag: Lancelot Boy Melvin (Choad the Douche Sprocket)
Mascot of the Year: Douchepug
The Douchebaguette: Tokidoki Barbie (Mr. Scrotato Head)
Best Haiku: darksock (idfma)
Douchiest Video of the Year: Lil’ Wang
Orangest Orange: Dieter
Douchiest ‘Bag Who May Be a Lesbian in Drag: Troll Dog (Wedgie)
The Yellowtail: Morty (Mandouchian Candidate)
Greatest Crisis of Modernity: The Cell Phone Bathroom Self Portrait (Hermit)
The John Largeman: Zen Beard Guy (Et tu Douche?)
Douchiest Douche-Face: Tighty Whitey Douche (doucheywallnuts)
Douchiest Facial Fung: Brothabag Leon (Douche Springsteen)
Most Annoying Rockerbag: Pukey Bowie (CB Popped)
Best Golden Globes #1: Tiny Dancer Maria
Best Golden Globes #2: Stephanie McGee
Herpiest Herpster: The Herpster
Douchiest Creature From Ancient Greek Myth: Poppa Squatter (Jacques Doucheteau)
Comment of the Year (Co-Winners): Hermit and Jacques Doucheteau (Wheezer)
Most Likely to be Part of the HCwDB Show at the Guggenheim Museum in 2023: Eros and Alterity
“Celebrity” HCwDB Couple of the Year: Nick Cannon and Mariah Carey (Vin Douchal)
Hottest Hott of the Year #1: Sucklechomp Amanda
Hottest Hott of the Year #2: Bikini Clara
Smells Like Poo: Quoth The Raven, “What a Douche!” (Creature)
And, for lifetime contributions to the dark arts of douchebaggery in presence of Hot Chick, your 2011 Irving G. Thallbag Lifetime Achievement Award: Smoot
Funny, funny shizz, a tip of the URC to all who participated in the 2011 Douchie Awards. Most triumphant.
If you have some extra time this holiday season, I highly recommend going back and rereading some of these posts. For the comedic linguistic deconstructions by the regulars who handed out these awards are superlative. And boobie hottie suckle thigh redux is bonus.
Lets not forget our 2011 class of entrance into the hallowed Hall of Mock for meritorious service in the comments thread:
Hermit
tall guy
Chris in ‘Baghdad
Douchble Helix
the douche is alright
Nancy Dreuche
Choad the Douche Sprocket
Stephanie
The Dude
Dude McCrudeshoes
Sir David Douchenborough
And infrequent commenters but powerhouse submitters of some of the great pics of the past year,Il Douché and Bag A.
There were at least twenty to twenty-five more quality A-Level regs who merited consideration, so a tip of the URC to all those who make the threads the main thing that keeps me powering through year after year.
Well, there it is. Enjoy. Revel. Appreciate the 2011 Douchie Awards, for they is done.
Were it not for what I suspect is the unanimous agreement, this might be considered a controversial win. Not by me though. I can’t stand Gynochin and Rhea is 100% awesome. Take us out, Kroeger, with a closing number!
Holy F*cking Sh*t! The Chin does it!
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.Had to be the penis nose….and everything else about his smarmy, smirky, flush-able facade.
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.The Old Choad is honored and humbled by inclusion in the Hall of Mock. We are not worthy of this site and its amazingly gifted scribes and wits (starting with our Fearless Leader), and will do our best to live up (down) to the task of calling out douchery wherever it raises its pugnacious, pathetic, putrid, prognathous and pudwackish head.
Great job by DB1, as always!! Great job by all yinz ‘baghunters. Even you Canadians, and I mean the *real* Canadiens.
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Thanks for the recognition, chief!
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Happy Hannukah you shaygetz and shiksa bastards!!!
The Chin is in with the win. Fuccen midget. I still think Peter P. and Mary Mamms might deserve another look next year. I am certain we have not seen the last of them. And by I am certain, I mean I looked at her website recently, and my fellow baghunters, there is a virtual treasure trove waiting to be mined in future posts. Funny, funny stuff.
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Congrats to this years HOM inductees, you join a club which consists of some sharp-witted pricks and prickettes. As the Baron once said, we are a dickish bunch.
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Which reminds me of what Groucho Marx once said: “I would never join any club that would have someone like me for a member”.
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Welcome
Congrats to the deserving entrants. For fuck sake Nancy don’t pull a Dicy and stick to one name most of the time.
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The finale of the finale begins. (If you missed Iron Maiden in the last thread, it’s there.) That was a fun douchies and by fun I mean stoned and racist. But we must go forward into the next dark night which may be the end of us all or perhaps a rebirth to man in a just and equitable world where 20% of us have 80% of the wealth. It could be worse, cause it is.
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Please welcome back to the stage for three performances. The beautiful and melancholious Rosie Vela and the dead hairy guy.
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Another winning year from the greatest time-waster on the Internet. Congrats, DB1! The Mock Shall Never Die.
I’m walking through the green room backstage of 2011 Douchie Award show, and it’s a mess, cluttered with:
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– Discarded Nun Meat wrappers
– 137 half pint bottles of MD20/20
– 473 perscription bottles ( labels torn off)
– 123 Roaches
– Drive By Trucker concert ticket stub
– 2010-2011 Toronto Maple Leafs pocket schedule
– 42 pairs Disneyland 3-D glasses, makeshift cocktail napkin penis attached
– 42 Bubba Army bumper sticker peels
– 973 HoHo carboard inserts
– TV show sell-sheet featuring hilarious utterrances of a troupe of misfits in assorted drug/alcohol induced mind-altering states in the bottom corner of the screen looking at photos of society’s dregs and commenting a la “MST3K”…… stamped REJECTED and torn in half
– 1/2 off admission coupons to Baron Von Goolo’s House of Horrors
– Shit wiped Kobe Bryant photo
– 45 empty Pepto Bismol bottles
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Blechh, sometimes these douchebags are torturous daggers to the soul. We need to keep the mock alive, meine Damen und Herren.
@Vin:
You forgot to count all the spent .357 casings.
And the empty ether bottles.
Yeah Chinny for the Winny!
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And thank you DB1, to be enshrined in those hollowed halls is truly an honor. And I’m not being sarcastic this time. Seriously, I. Can. Die. Now. But really thank you again and thank you all for the laughs. This is the only site I interact with people and Rev Chad on that counts. Facebook is for my homo and lady friends.
What about Best Ass Pear?
What a great year topped off by a great fortnight of awards. I have douche-chills just thinking about it.
And frosty Canadian lager.
The second last number of the Douchies of the year of 2011 is an unveiled number to my Nancy. From Creature. Live from his layer.
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Plagos
Gynochin is going to celebrate his win hard tonight. And by hard I mean his usual facial double penetration.
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Congrats to the new inductees. Replace the toilet paper when the roll is done, turn the lights off when you leave a room, and don’t touch my stuff in the fridge.
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Another year gone by and the ship that is our society is no less full of water. More and more douchebags running around with hammers smacking holes in the hull shouting the words to some LMFAO “song”. When the ship finally does go down I’m going to insert myself into Stephanie McGee, pull her silver tab belly button tab, and float off to parts unknown.
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Until then, the mock must continue. Great Douchies Boss. Looking forward to what you do with this old gal next year. And also looking forward to your next project. If you need any writers who know the difference between triumph and tragedy and who also don’t give a f*ck what the Hollywood establishment thinks, you know how to get ahold of us.
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Seriously, I’ll work for scale.
Isn’t it ‘lair’? Anyway, I’m probably missing something. It is a great honour to be inducted as a Hall Of Mock recipient. My sincere congratulations to my fellow inductees and I also offer my eternal thanks my lifelong respect and God’s continual blessings to our fearless and hyper-talented leader DB1. Good on ya, mate!
Happy DoucheYear everyone!
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At first, I came to this site because of all the Hotts. And that’s still true. But you guys are cool too.
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Now where did I put that Porch beef and Jelly dong sandwich on Rye with a smattering of Prep H and peen drizzle? I’m putting together a DonkeyDouche care package to send to Cook County…
I’m so happy I can hardly think!
Thanks all, for a fun & snarky look at a fascinating diversity of douchebaggery.
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And by fascinating, I mean revolting reminicenances of growing up in Northeastern New Jersey.
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Also, thanks to the Reverend for adding acoustic accompaniment (well, um – except for those Nickelback links).
it’s over? damn!!!. Oh well it was a hell of an awards ceremony and congratulations to all the newest members of the Hall of Mock, a hearty well done to all the awards presenter, a round of applause for our own in house DJ Rev and wishing all of you some well deserved rest & down time.
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Mockstars
Well give me an enema and call me Sparky! I didn’t get any of them right!
Wait…mycool44’s right…where’s the Pear o’ the Year?
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Not that I have enough stamina to make it through that bracket. Unless I take my Peter North Vitamin E Pills and drink lots of fluids, and keep the lotion quotient slicked up.
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weepsterbaters.
There was only one Nickleback link Mr. Douchewin and thanks for the acknowledgement. I don’t spellcheck myself because I don’t know how and I’m usually a bit tipsy by this time of day. And by Tipsy I mean legally drunk.
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The mock had to roll and roll it did. It rocked and mocked and rolled and trolled. Music came at us from around the world.yo. We beat this mother down and tore it up, yo! Douchebags to the left of us and douchebags for the fright.
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Music as the eternal force of man has shown us that Nickleback is the worst, From Lulu to Springsteen the die cast. That a new year would fall among us like Aretha Franklin on cheese. Like Luther Vandross on life. And like RUSH and infinity, man.
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So as I sign out on this years Douchies I present the hot cello chicks. the concert grand piano, a guitar solo, dry ice fog, and the essence of life as we know it. ELO.
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Keep on rocking fuckers. Kroeger out.
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I agree with he of the DarkSock. Let us not forget who stepped into the breach earlier this year when DB1 headed of to Peru to cleanse his soul and by cleanse his soul I mean Alpaca lovin’. But seriously those were some seriously heady days & nights when uncle DarkSock manned the helm and spoiled us rotten with copious amounts of Pear.
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Come on Boss cobble together what strength you have left and give the masses some “Pear o’ the Year™”
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We want Pear!!!!, We want Pear!!!, We want Pear!!!
this was the best Pear of the Year that didn’t make this site
Since we’re giving out awards, as musical director at HCwDB here are my five top favorite albums (cd’s) of 2011:
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5- Tim Christensen And The Damn Crystals- (Self Titled)– It’s like the second coming of Kevin Gilbert and as if he fronted Jellyfish. Tremendous power pop from Euro-Rocker
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4- Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit- Here We Rest– Former “Drive By Trucker” contributor shows some grit, some heart and hooks that you sing along without feeling like a tool. You’re still a tool
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3- Yes- Fly From Here– Quite possibly the weakest Yes album of all time, but since it’s got Steve Howe, Chris Squire and Allan White, it’s good shit, anyway. Also they have a FUCCEN Canadian with a really high voice singing lead vocals now. Nothing bad can come from a high pitch ‘Nuck unless their name rhymes “Shaleen Pee-on”. If their names rhymes with “Heady Pee” then their a’ight with me
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2- Wilco- The Whole Love– Chicago Rockers reinvent themselves with every new release. From the prog-rock opener “Art Of Almost” to the catchy Beatles-esque sing alongs, “I Might” , “Dawned On Me” and “Whole Love” Jeff Tweedy’s little ensemble proves themselves as the premier Jam Band in the land , apologies to “My Morning Jacket” and “Moe”. Nels Cline is an innovative guitar player and complete wack job, I want him to marry my daughter, no pre-nup
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1- The Jayhawks- Mockingbird Time. No pyrotechnics, no flashy guitar solos, no cocck-in-your-face personalities just craftsmanship and 4 part harmony vocals from the inventors of Americana/Roots Rock. Pure genius singalong stuff .
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A 15 year reunion finds Mark Olson and Gary Louris letting it all out like a mom emptying her boy’s pockets at the washing machine with songs of 4 AM doorway conversations with a black-eyed chick, helplessly drunk in a basement during a flood, torchy desert blues reminding of a childhood being washed away, 2 more rain songs (it must be a Minnesota thing), and the brilliant title track
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And :
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Them’s is mine. What’s yours?
Somewhere, a metal trashcan is being hoisted over someone’s head in breathless anticipation.
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This year’s Douchies has been great fun . . . my thanks to the management, who do a hell of a job and make the site funny, and to the regulars who make it funnier still. Y’all’s the reason I comes here.
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And congrats to the new Hall of Mock inductees. You have given me many moments of laughter, for which I am grateful.
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As the great Mr. Scrotato Head, who will work for scale, said regarding the need for douches to amp it up further than one would imagine possible: In order to achieve true individuality, each douchal signifier must be pushed to a new level of absurdity, to go, if you will, to “11” on the scale of remove-my-eyes-with-a-rusty-urine-coated-melon baller.
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I look forward to removing my eyes many times in 2012.
WTF? I cashed in my chips and decided to take a dirt-nap at Hotel Eternity for no other reason than to earn a posthumous douchebag achievement award… and you are telling me this was the last award? I gave my retarded son the reigns so I could treated this way? I don’t think so, bitches! Re-open the voting or face my wrath.
^I’ll take “Face His Wrath” for $500, Alex.
As much as we lust for pear, and now turn our eyes (and penii) towards the rack-tacular rack of Rhea, remember dear friends that she is tainted; yeah, soiled. We must vow to disdain her with the collective fap boycott.
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OK, sorry, I rubbed one out just now. Carry on.
Jonezy, where did you find that video of my ex?
Vin:
The crowd is demanding pear. Answer the call. It is your duty.
I thought it was a video of Plinky’s Mom’s clit.
Vin: Call of Booty: Modern Whore-Fare.
Vin: Knead for Seed: Hot Pearsuit
Vin: Pears of Whore: Delta Squat
g-chin for the loss
all-world douchebroheimwanker
rhea fwap fwap fwap
thanks for the laughs all HOM inductees.
The green room is in an uproar. Socck just cocck-punched Dreuche.
I’m not one to judge.
Do you want a famous pear famous for nothing but a pear?
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Internet tease model with giant juggs that only does hand bra photos?
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Unknown Pear?
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Quartasian?
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C’mon, help me out here…. you want a full page of a made famous by Twitter butt model?
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Help a brother out
Unknown Pear missed the cut ^
Please Sir! Please stop with the pictures of the lightlly blonde furred buttocks! I can’t take no more.
^Speak for yourself.
There is no such thing as too much pear. Thank you and good day Mr. Douchal.
Dang it, I purposefully avoided voting for Gynochin on account of how much that pic pisses me off. Lesson learned.
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And thank you boss, for the honor and another year of awesome mockery!
the life and hard times of minnie’s pear?
hey its a disney movie!
rafikis
A happy Douche year indeed, my fellow hunters and huntresses. Let us take this moment to reflect on the year past and all we have done to stem the tide of douche.
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Drinking and weepsterbating.
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Better luck next year. I’m gonna go take a crap in honor of Gynochin. Hope the end is all fluffy like his hair.
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Dickhats.
Hey Scrotato Head:
Is “scale” code for “sandwiches”?
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Happy Douche Year and congrats to the new hall of mock class.
Gynochin represents all which is wrong with humanity and is quite likely responsible for a reduction in beneficial aquatic plants in our rivers, lakes and waterways. His spleen has been poisoned with the bile of fruit bats and his personality resembles injection molded packaging.
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Dude’s got a big chin too.
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Rhea looks like she just swallowed a fishing lure.
Thanks for the tunes Rev. For the most part you were an awesome DJ, except when you played that Pollack band RUSH.
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Faeces eaters
Gynochin still looks as if he’s gargling a load of semen. Does he treat it as though he’s a wine taster?
You gotta be kidding me? ND in hall o’ mock??? she’s an idiot…no longer hallowed…I’m done!
HCWDB: Where All Winners (Losers) are Losers (Losers)
@creature, suck on that. Sorry old man Winter, apparently some people like my idiotic ramblings. And pray tell how do you quit this thing? I’ve tried several times but I keep coming back. If you figure it out come back and tell me how.
Gynochin, brah, you can stop sucking in your cheeks now…No?
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Then again, Gynochin is indeed proof that nature abhors a vacuum.
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Keep on sucking, douchebag….
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Truly worthy of the Annual…
Warren Beatty and Gynochin…..separated at birth but united in hairbaggery, one generation to the next…and Rhea with her prim, white boobie trim…United in bad-ass black as Hotchick and Douchebag. LOVE ‘EM!!!!
Pear of the Year still awaits….
Congrats to the new inductees, this is still one of the only sites that matter.
Gyno an Rhea had this from the get go.
Cheeksuckers.
^All the guitar heads, geeks and those seriously pondering the future of Velcro as 2011 closes –
– I present the best powerboard Velcro alternative on the market.
http://www.godlyke.com/power-all/godlyke-power-all-accessories/power-grip
Id like to be attached to Rhea’s nude, supple hind quarters with this stuff.
Leno would be proud.
Merry Chinmas and a Happy Douche Year.
best records of the year?
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in no particular order:
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1. Fly From Here by Yes. I agree it’s not Close to the Edge, but on repeated listenings it’s really not bad at all. Their best since Union (the 90210 crap I buried in the back yard). Live video:
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2. Last by The Unthanks. British folk band with a seriously dark streak. Rachel Unthanks has an amazing voice and they have great taste in their material. Here they are singing a really moving cover of Starless by King Crimson:
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3. Take Care Take Care Take Care by Explosions in the Sky. Wonderful, lush post rock stuff from a band from Texas. Here they are live earlier this year:
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4. 21 by Adele. Sure, it’s pop. Sure she could use a few less sammiches, but this woman has an amazing voice, her songwriting is pretty damn good, and she worked it to the point where she broke it. She’s also really young, so hopefully she’ll grow into a real force. Here she is singing live on TV.
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5. Marnie Stern by Marnie Stern. OK, this came out in 2010, but it came out in December 2010 and I didn’t hear it until 2011, so that makes it a 2011 as far as I am concerned. Marnie is one of the best guitarists around right now. And she’s damn cute. And her music KICKS ASS.
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That’s my top 5 for the year. Kind of a so-so year. 2010 was better, overall.
I’ll drop whatever I’m doing and by whatever I’m doing I mean my pants around my ankles to scour through the 52 “Fridays Thoughts & Links” to come up with a bracket o’ Pear for voting purposes. What say ye fellow hunters?
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DB1 I’m serious I’ll take up the task, shoot me an email if your interested and I’ll get to work.
@Et Tu, I second the vote to vote for best buttocks! If DarkSocks reign of pearor taught us anything its that the people demand high quality ass pics and the more the better.
@et tu….I’ll split the work with you if you want…2 brackets, pear vs. pear, cheek vs. cheek.
@Et Tu, I am behind you 100% on it. But if course. We should make it an annual thing. I promise I am not being cheeky on this. Oh look a balloon.Not a bad idea at all Et Tu, you were reared well.
I’ll toss out a top 5 albums:
1. Jayhawks, “Mockingbird Time” — Vin already covered this one.
2. 40 Watt Sun, “The Inside Room” — Haunting British doom metal to hang yourself to.
3. Zola Jesus, “Conatus” — Zola Jesus is what Lady Gaga wishes she could be…if Lady Gaga weren’t a self-involved twatwaffle.
4. Fuck the Facts, “Die Miserable” — Canadian extreme metal experimental grindcore coccck punch. Put this on in your car. Drive 100 mph. Hit someone. Drag that person out of their car and beat them savagely. Wait for the cops. Drag them out of their car, strip them naked, and taser their genitals. Then tear off your own skin and run around town like that.
http://fuckthefacts.bandcamp.com/releases
5. Twilight Singers, “Dynamite Steps” — If Greg Dulli ever makes an album that isn’t 100% brilliant, I’ll eat my own poo.
Honorable Mentions:
Explosions in the Sky, “Take Care, Take Care, Take Care” — see Troy’s post
Tori Amos, “Night of Hunters” — This would probably make the list, except Tori had her young daughter sing on some of the songs. Don’t get me wrong, her daughter can actually sing. But having a 12-year-old singing makes me feel weird when I masturbate to it.
Pear is always a treat, and therefore we will hand out a 2011 Douchie Award on Friday for Best Pear. Or two. I await the consensus.
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In the meantime, I’mma not updating for a few days.
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– management
And looking at Gynochin – I SWEAR he’s this }{ close to hurling. I think the split second after the flash went off, he just puked all over the place. And Rhea said “eeeew!”
I wish I had a mail order business selling authentic metal trashcans this Christmas. Preferably with instructions on how to wield it like Bruce Lee with nuclear powered nun-chucks.
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Thanks, DB1, and happy Chanukmas.
I think I need some pear to cleanse my palette after this smorgasbord of douche and bleeth. In fact, I will end my fixations on Rhea, Champagne Katie, and Tiny Dancer by Jan. 1 at the latest. I need something new.
Do it boys…
The Reign of Pearriers, coming soon on a screen near you! You can’t Mock the Pear!!
Unless she’s a dumbass.
@ Troy 7:29
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Marnie Stern is like Liz Phair with lead guitar skills. She is super hott. I’m with you there. Also Adele has had a good year or two, she’s banking.
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Take Care, etc and the Unthanks are a wee bit avant garde for my twangy pallette.
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Dude, can you play that tapping style like Marnie Stern?
Hey Boss, if you’re going to post maybe two “Beat Pear” awards, I have a suggestion:
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Let Et Tu Douche? follow up on his suggestion (7:34 a.m.), and then have Vin look over his own posts of hotties from outside the site. We can get a “best pear” from each grouping.
“Beat Pear” – for when you’re having a 60s fuccen flashback and just wanna groove to the sounds. Right on, man.
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(rolls eyes at self)
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That could also be “Best Pear”…..
Since Et Tu has generously offered to procrastinate his real life to work on pear, hehe, I have just one other suggestion for improvement. Write-in votes so we can look at some new pear.
Good choice.
Thought Lumpcrustowitz would be a shoo-in.
Inmates running the asylum.
Fuccen Canadians.
An inspired choice, sir! Well done!
She’s both comely and buxom, and her vacuous smile and vacant stare serve to make me properly question her IQ, if not also her taste in men.
And as for Sir Mousse, well, the hair and three-day beard pretty much sum him up as a man who Tivos every Hawaii Five-O episode to seek personal inspiration.
@Vin – I’ve been working on my tapping skills. I’m getting a custom built tapping guitar. This guy builds them for a very reasonable price:
http://krappyguitars.com/tcharch.html
(IIRC, a 10 string standard is like $800 and you can design your own body shape…)
Now, you won’t get all the bells and whistles and quilted maple veneer that you’d find on a more expensive unit from Warr or Reuter or Megatar.
Warr:
http://www.warrguitars.com/
Reuter:
http://touchguitars.com/
Megatar:
http://www.megatar.com/english/home.html
but then his 10 string costs 1/10 what a 10 string from Warr will cost you… So, you kind of get what you pay for. If money was no object, I’d get me one of those U-10 puppies from touchGuitar or a Warr 16 string Phalanx. But I’m not made out of money…
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and Marnie IS freakin’ hott and she can shred with the best of them. She works with Zach whats-his-name the drummer from Hella who are this thrash / math / prog / metal outfit. Fucking unreal. I was watching an interview with her – she said She’s NEVER been asked out on a date, for like real. (Plenty of “yo babe – date ME” type bullshit, but nothing real). If I was 20 years younger and single I’d show up at her door with a smile and some flowers and a sack of groceries so I could cook her a meal right there… Although, considering the biggest song off her latest is about her ex who committed suicide, hmmmmm….mebbee not…
The Unthanks are ultra-low key and very twee, I’ll grant you that.
Adele? Fuck – who knows? She literally blew her voice to bits this year. The doctors say if she wants a career, she’s going to have to A: not sing or even talk much for the next year or so and B: get some voice control lessons. She’s a really sweet kid with an awesome instrument, so here’s hoping that Adele 24 is utterly mind-blowing.
There is only one Stackhouse.
Khappy Khannukhah!
Attempting to reset the bold typeface in 3…2…1…
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Did it work? Who gives a shit anyway, because GYNOCHIN won the yearly. An upset, some might say, but the rest of us say that he is the nouvelle douche, a douche for a new age beyond tattoos, beyond z-axis hat tilt or visible underwear. GYNOCHIN is a compact 5’6″ of douche-force, an F5 bronado of douche-struction coming to a town near you. And you doubted the Mayan 2012 apocalypse. Pale horse, thy name is GYNOCHIN.
You guys and your fucking guitars. Now this is a guitar.
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http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x16mst_michael-angelo-batio-quad-guitar_music
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Drummers rule and singers drool. Yo! For realz.
Gynochin’s grandmother had spent the last eight years in a Florida nursing home. Deposited there by her thoughtless, uncaring family as one would discard an expired carton of cottage cheese in a refuse bin. The family said their farewells, pretending not to notice the squalor and the foul smell of urine and neglect which permeated her new home. A cold windowless room with a linoleum floor and four dirty walls draped in desperation. Overhead a squeaky ceiling fan oscillated slowly to the beat of Haitian Voodoo Music.
She spent her days silently cursing the orderlies, who were no more than sadistic butchers who beat her with broom handles and lengths of electrical cable. The medical staff kept her medicated with bootleg Chinese tranquilizers and white phosphorous which was fed through the air ducts between meals of brussel sprouts and undercooked chicken wings. Her family visited her once, talked about her occasionally, but soon were reduced to sending her cards for Mother’s Day and Christmas.
When Nana-chin read of her grandson’s selection as Douchebag of the Year in the nursing home’s newsletter, she hiked up her ancient, wrinkled butt and let out a long, wet fart which resonated across the plastic bed sheets and echoed down the dismal hallways. She then rose to her feet and steadied herself against the bed. She made her way out of her room with great discomfort and hobbled down the hall on arthritic hips and prosthetic knees. She exited the building wearing only her white hospital gown, which seemed to glow as the ceremonial shroud of ritualistic neo pagans during the Winter Solstice.
She made her way, unsteadily, down to the retaining pond behind the nursing home and slowly waded into the murky water, praying softly to Tampa-Saint Pete and holding a worn photograph Tony Orlando.
The Christmas Carol of 2011 is a story of despair and melacholy remembrance. As the Newt Gingriches of fail attempt to take a desparate and disparate nation, grasping by it’s fingernails to the cliff of relevance in the long cruel book of history, from terrible to more terrible.
As a portly politicain explains away another affair, another bedridden wife to be tossed in a bag and thrown away like a ball of dog turd, another religion joined to placate the most ardent of a nation built under God, the God of excess.
The souls of a nation grasp to the notion of yesterday, when things were still possible. A time before a gladhanding Yale pass-through legacy and a blundering black Muslim fucking the Christian tradition in the ass like a forged birth certificate in Maui trashed an economy and any hope of rebuiding. The Christmas process continues with the glee of a million cash registers ringing up debt as fast as nativity scenes are taken down to appease the anti-man, the politically correct.
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Like sausage casing the souls are filled with temporary joy as another present fills the omnipresent hole in 300 million psyches only to be shit out of the collective concious a few minutes later like the filling in that proberbial Bratwurst as the hope of a New Year and good intention inevitably fade away like half the candidates in an Iowa caucus.
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The suburbs filled with shame and hidden food stamp purchases. The Millenials face a tough road before the next generation slides into a demgraphic bonanza of a demand-sided labor market. Entitlements rage through the minds of the young like a Call Of Duty machine gun only to be stalled as the yuppy scum die of suicide and stress-related heart disease as the last glimmers of the 1982 entry-level BMW fade and the realization that the 7-series will never be attainable. The early retirement they had once saved for while taking Junior to soccer and revelling in the Clinton years turned into a part-time job at a SaveMart in the next county.
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A portfolio of life bereft of value. The future of their children grim. A rusty 2 door from another generation congeals onto it’s blocks, never to be refinished and secretly reviled by it’s owner as a symbol of misguided youthful exuberance and failed GMAT’s.
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The Santa myth roles on in the souls of pliable little grandchildrens minds as the pile of presents under the Chinese tree dwindles into Death.
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Merry Christmas
Yo, Kroeger, you like Lloyd Cole and The Commotions?
Gynochin is so 18-seconds ago. Especially after the Rev’s sermon. That being said, I think the Santa myth is the most reasonable of all the myths floating around these days including, but not limited to, the one about the kid in the manger with a virgin mom; the one about the economy improving; the one about health care costing less when the government is involved; the one about politicians of either stripe caring about the populace and the one about the NBA being Fantastic.
Oh, Fuck the NBA – and all the sheeple that worship it.
Bootleg Chinese Tranquilizers and Gods of Excess are great band names….Dark Sock – u gonna let Hermit and The Rev. get away with this?
Hermit and Rev’s exquisite exhortations remind us of what is, and what may be. It may be that we will all ultimately drown in a mire of credit card bills and ipods overflowing with Ke$ha and LMFAO tripe, overwhelmed by the stench of a society so rotten and ulcer-ridden, so fixated on not letting anyone’s feel bads get bruised, that it lacks the very communal will to pull itself to safety.
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If that’s the case, I’ll take small comfort in knowing that as I’m sliding into the pit my feet will be firmly placed upon the shoulders of the likes of Gynochin and Smoot, who through their ego-driven pursuit of self, will have tossed themselves into Oblivion as if they were cannon-balling fully clothed into the pool at the Friday-night rave.
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The Rev’s premonitions reminded me also of a song parody I did earlier in the year, one that I’m particularly proud of. A parody which lays bare the world within which douchebags rise, and ultimately, properly, fall. Don Mclean summed up the world as it was in the early ’70s in his amazing ritornelle “American Pie”.
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I give youCheeseburgers and Fries
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A long long time ago
I was once a member
Of a gang of bro’s who ruled the coast
And I knew if my moves were tight
That I’d get pussy every night
If you was there you’d know that ain’t no boast
Filling crème pies made me quiver
With each load that I delivered
But gray hairs down where I pee
Turned boners into mem’ries
Then my whole world came crashing down
When all the bleeth up and left town
I was the king without a crown
The day the douchebag died
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So now I cook cheese burgers and fries
Drove my parents to disown me I’m the one they despise
And my old bro-heims they got the AIDS and they died
For a dollar more you can super-size
For a dollar you can up-size
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Yeah I wrote the Book of Scrote
My cockk shoved down each and every throat
Of the jump offs and the ho’s
Now do you spend time at glory holes?
Do hormones make your muscles swole?
Easy bud you have to talk real Slooooooow.
Well, I should have known she was a him
But her tits were big and her waist was slim
We both did a coke line
Man, she looked good from behind
It was a long night and I needed to f*ck
When she dropped her thong I saw the tuck
That I knew I would have to suck
The day the douchebag died
It tastes like chicken
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I, I cook cheese burgers and fries
I could work at the call center but this dude don’t wear ties
And this fast food joint hires anyone who applies
In five years I’ll have my own franchise
One day I’ll have my own franchise
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Now, for two months I been on my own
And fat grows thick ‘round this shriveled bone
But that ain’t how I used to be
We rocked the clubs in the Bronx and Queens
In Affliction tee-shirts and bedazzled jeans
Learned my tribal tat sez “Pork and Beans”
Everywhere there was pussy to pound
DJ Asswipe played his funky sound
Our shaved groins we revealed
No crushed abs were concealed
And while Bello frolicked in the parking lot
We all got blowjobs from some hott
And baked our brains on shitty pot
The day the douchebag died
Is something burning?
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I, I cook cheese burgers and fries
Lost my girlfriend to my buddy now I date a plus-size
And her saggy tits muffle the sound of my cries
F*ckin onions put these tears in my eyes
Onions put these tears in my eyes
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Tight turd cutter filled with baby butter
The thought still makes my engine sputter
But good things never seem to last
Like all my broheims I obsess
On getting hotties to undress
With my hat tilt, and wristdana I impress
Now her low cut dress flashed fake balloons
I had to get my hands on soon
She took a downward glance
There was no swell in my pants
I tried to say it was the coke
That in time she’d get a nasty poke
My sex life had become a joke
The day the douchebag died
My break is over
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I, I cook cheese burgers and fries
At McDonalds from today until the day that I die
And my coworkers they all call me thunder thighs
Right now Star Wars is the Happy Meal prize
Can I have your Happy Meal prize?
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Oh, some say we were a total waste
A generation filling space
A life style you can’t defend
So f*ck off I ain’t humble, I’m a slut
I’d even pee in a horse’s butt
‘Cuz hot tubs are a DockSock’s fav’rite friend
But when I read that “Hot Chicks” page
I slapped my cell phone keys with rage
You can all go to hell
Who cares if I can’t spel
As the posts piled high on that hatter site
To fight the spreading Grieco blite
I heard Medusa cackling with delight
The day the douchebag died
My girlfriend’s pregnant
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I, I cook cheese burgers and fries
I could be a steel cage fighter wrestling with other guys
With my awesome moves and tat that says “Fight or Die”
This’ll be the year that I try
This’ll be the year I might try
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I met a dude who just said “Groooo?”
And I asked him why we smelled like poo
But he just put on more Axe spray
So I went down to the Jersey Shore
Where I’d rocked the shocker years before
And saw orange skin and Ed Hardy on display
For in the clubs the Guidos raged
E-Blo stared, and Fish Slap aged
‘Cuz did I fail to mention?
We don’t pay no attention
And the three bro’s in the tanning bed
Stackhouse, Smoot, and Crimson Ted
They just ignored old Scrotato Head
The day the douchebag died
I need a ride home
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I, I cook cheese burgers and fries
I’m so fake so superficial that I don’t realize
That the life I’ve lived was just a series of lies
Would you like a hot apple pie?
Nothing beats a hot apple pie
We were singing
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We, we cook cheese burgers and fries
Drove our parents to disown us we’re the ones they despise
And our old bro-heims they got the AIDS and they died
For just a dollar more you can up-size
For a dollar more you can up-size
I’m wearing pink underwear.
Inspired by the Reverend’s sermon, DoucheyWallnuts’s good skepticism about believing in belief, and the recent spate of musical musings; I offer two songs by Erin McKeown, some local talent here in the
GayBay state..
McKeown is an ornithologist turned ethnomusicologist who now turns musical jams into culture jams.
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From her anti-holiday, pro humanist album F*Ck That!, is my favorite – Frozen Smiles
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And importantly, for Hermit’s Amërïkä, is a live version of – Christmas love it or leave it:
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Checking in and I see the natives are getting restless in anticipation of succulent Pear. I too am giddy yet I pause to try and understand the meaning of Christmas. It lost it’s luster for me many years ago, while I dig the feasting, the shameless commercialization of it all makes me weep. I can only imagine the “Machine” that Hermit so eloquently has spoken of in the past is looking on approvingly. When you receive a “Merry Christmas” or a “Happy Holidays” via text message this year you’ll know that we’ve really failed as a society because in actuality a text message is just a semi-polite way to say “Fuck you! I’m too busy to actually call you” and by too busy I mean they no longer can communicate via words & emotion.
Scrotato Head has hit with a gem that I at least had missed. Perhaps it was at the end of a thread. Pure magic. Scrotato and DB1 (see how I capitalized that, respect yo!) need to get together and put this song and site concept to Weird Al Yankovic who is perhaps the One to get this concept going into the mainstream. Or at least viral on these interweb thingys. I’m serious Yo! And I don’t need any points for my suggestion cause the Kroeger Benevelent Fund is large this season.
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The lighthearted ditty already perfectly lyricized must be copyrighted here and now in public by Mr. Scrotato Head.
It may just be the tune to save the West from oblivion.
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For you youngsters who never saw Don MacLean at your Quad or college pub or local pub singing a very long version of this song, cause really it was his only one and he milked it like a starving Somalian on Anna Nicole Smiths lactating bosom.
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Don MacLean ( Fuck off Madonna)
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Maybe this one.
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This is my favorite Christmas Carol. The Kinks roc!
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Now get ready for the thermonuclear present I’m going to ram in your stocking, and by stocking I mean arse. It’s going to burn like ten-thousand chili dogs with wasabi and habenaro. See you on the other side, round eyes!
@Charles Douchewin
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The Whistling in “Frozen Smiles” is epic. The only thing missing was the alcohol fueled beatings resulting from someone getting a stupid long sleeve shirt for Christmas, a shirt that he paid for with his own f*cking money but would never EVER f*cking buy for himself when he would have liked a set of Calloway drivers who f*cking buys themselves a shiny, powder blue dress shirt I just want to punch you until the elves stop laughing in my head make them stop make them stop!
Pear?
Scrotato, thanks for that hysterical parody. Just gave me some good laughs,,,,(Bronx, Queens, my tribal says Pork and Beans is priceless)
We are all awaiting the pear contest.
Mr. Scrotato Head – start working on your Grammy Acceptance speech. What a great way to start off the few day home from work.
Many, many thanks to all you goodly ladies and gentlemen who provide a hearty and robust laugh each and every day in lunatic world upside down. It’s a momentary respite from modern insanity.
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you all.
Scrotato – NICE ONE!!!!
Since we’re all in a musical and reflective mood, I thought I’d dredge up my other favorite song parodies from 2011. As many of you have noticed, my longer posts tend to lament the fallen woman rather than lampoon the tainted man. Like the guy who talked your kid brother into trying crack just one time, there are few greater crimes than taking god’s greatest creation, which is the female form in its most ubber chompiness, and corrupting and perverting it into a Britney Spears-esque abomination.
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Anna Nalick penned this memorable ditty which inspired me. To the tune of “Breathe (2AM)”
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Bleeth (2AM)
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2 AM and she calls moans she can’t find her keys,
can I come pick her up, says she’s starting to freeze
I don’t love her, pity just keeps me returning
There she sits on the curb, vacant look in her eyes
Make-up smeared hair a mess fresh sex stains on her thighs,
Swarm of flies, pack of wolves she’s just not that discerning
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‘Cause you can’t fix your rep, with your friends who enable
Just toss back another glass, spread for the stable
Isn’t it all about having a ball,
So just cup your fake tits in your hands
And bleeth, just bleeth,
Woah bleeth, just bleeth
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When you turned 21 said its time to be free
F*ck the folks and college life’s just one big party,
Bend her over, she puts out for hot clothes and free beer.
In the bar all heads turn when she hikes up her skirt,
But the drugs and the drinks can’t disguise how she hurts,
What’s the problem, isn’t this what you envisioned?
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Cause you can’t fill your crack, with each cock that you see,
How can you be so shocked that it hurts when you pee
Isn’t it all about having a ball,
So tuck your panties in your purse,
And bleeth, just bleeth,
Woah bleeth, just bleeth
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There’s a life that you left and you want it again
But you shut those thoughts out when they pop the champagne
The attention you get, it’s a drug in your vein
There’s no chance of turning around.
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2 AM and you’re throwing up in the back seat
Turn the stereo up to disguise my defeat
at this moment, wishing you’d put it behind you
But you’re lost to a world of hard abs and orange skin
Strutting peacocks with views of life so paper thin
Would you notice, how empty the trends you conform to
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Cause you can’t fix your rep, with douchebags so unstable ,
Just reach for another cock, under the table
Beauty fades fast when you run at this pace
So spray on your bait once again.
and bleeth, just bleeth
woah bleeth, just bleeth,
oh bleeth, just bleeth.
Sometimes I read The Rev, Hermit and Mr S Head in awe at their ability to paint a picture in the mind’s eye, not unlike “Squints” watching Wendy Peffercorn slather on the SPF 30
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Or not
I eagerly await the butt chomp suckle chomp competition. It reminds me of the time I lined up all of my peen pics and had my friends vote on which one was the most peen suckle schlurp. I would post the winner here but since I don’t know how to do that stuff you’re going to have to believe me when I say its redickulous peenerific peenfection. Now if youll excuse me I need to go ponder on some things.
DB1…word on the street is that you stole the “Gynochin and Rhea and Gynopenis Nose” photo from the website: “Hot Chicks With Wandering Eyes”
Greg Lake was way more Christmas bringdown than my good friends the jovial Kinks above. Thirty five years since Prog Rock kicked the shit out of a Madison Avenue holiday sham. I like the Nativity history and as a guilt-ridden drunk Irish Catholic kept cuckold by the monster he created with his own errant hands must oblige my mother’s faith and succumb to the sweet participation in ritual that is Christmastime.
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Retarded brother re-living his high school days as a separatee with the four years younger divorced slut from same school and sleeping at my house fuck. So my mother doesn’t have to lower her morals to provide a place of fornication. Blasphemers all. 60 people on Sunday Christmas supper. Fuck that. I’m getting right fucking drunk and stone just to show everyone that I am 46 and I can get drunk as fuck. Leave me the fuck alone man. But my cousin Kathy’s fun, and single, and she blew me a few times.
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So Greg Lake was right when he wrote this song about angry stoned turkey-filled blowies from his first cousin stoned in his uncle’s driveway, cause that’s how he rolled.
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Rehab is for quitters. I’m buzzin’ through to January 12th, when I return to academics and the ensuing shit-show which will occur when I am amongst the impressionable young with my huge Baby Jesus-Christmas sized cock.
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Fuck. The late, great Greg Lake.
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Old fucking brain and eyes. Jesus!.
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Fuck it.
Scrotato is hcwdb’s preeminent songwriter.
^”Malformed URL ID”
Why does that seem so perfect for your links, Rev?
Happy Holidays you fuccen Canadian. Perhaps some Emerson, Lake & Palmer might make you feel better.
But nothing will top a blowie from your hot cousin.
Stoned.
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^Fucking Christmas Miracle for drunk potheads who d
Don’t strain yourself Rev, you’ve got chilli to make. Hope you get at least two blowies this Christmas that you don’t have to pay for.
@DoucheyWallnuts:
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Re: government involvement in healthcare– how do you figure? Here in the USA, we have LESS government involvement and substantially HIGHER healthcare costs (and worse results) than any other “advanced’ nation (assuming it’s even accurate to call us that).
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Oh, wait– you meant OUR “government.” Better known as the public-relations arm of greedy corporations and obscenely rich bastards. Never mind.
I agree, Math…Never Mind.
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Mr. Scrotato Head deserves and Oscar and a Grammy for song (re)writer of the year. Alas, I can only offer you this:
and City Slicker Pear:
And of course Ass Pear LaPlante:
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Atta’ Boy DarkSock!!!!!!!
How does one choose only one set of buttocks from a smorgassboard of loaf pinchers. I do not envy the tassk of having to narrow it down to only one. I hope you’re getting some sort of stipEnd for this Et Tu.
Dr. Sock, pilfering from the Chive is most unbecoming, my good fellow. However, in the spirit of the holiday season, we forgive you.
@Wedgie, The Chive is where Denis Leary and Ann Coulter go for the lastest in humor and comedic stylings. How dare you imply that our own DarkSock would stoop to such levels. I may clown on you all for being Rhea-tarded at times but at least I hope you remember who invented this genre, our late great DB1 and pay respect by never speaking of The Chive again. It reminds me of the time I got a three page text from a dude I was trying to hit it and then quit it with. I was like, dude I get it you’re not that into me. Why don’t you save me some money and just type that? But he was like, no, let me explain in nauseating detail. And I was like, I get it, good day. But then he is still talking to me. You know what I’m saying? Anyway, why cant people just say what they mean? It would save everyone a lot if time and heartache. Anyway, I’m just letting you guys know that if you think women are confusing you should try dating men. Actually what Im really saying is if your friend gives you a giant bottle of wine for Christmas he should also take away your phone.
Damn Wedgie, I thought Darksock took all those pics himself.
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Seems pic #3 is from the flyteethe collection.
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“advanced nations”=
Greece?
Spain?
Ireland?
Portugal?
Italy?
U.S.S.R.?
N. Korea?
Cuba?
Kaliförnïå
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I know, Sweeeeeeeeeeden baby!!
I love when lurker jerk-offs – AKA “Lurk-offs” – post under one-shot names and try to act all serious, and are wrong.
Actually, Wedgie, I simply did a Google Image Search for “Perfect Ass”.
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And unsurprisingly, my girl Fenny from Argentina (aka Ms. LaPlante) was among the results.
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Fapsters.
What did I learn from my 2 weeks at the helm? That you must not cross the line into porny-pears.
^At least not on the front page, anyways.
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Boss is trying to run a respectable site here. Or at least a SFW site.
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I would very much pee in her butt.
Now THIS is fuccen funny:
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Happened today fellow ‘Bagsters, Was in the city and walked by a couple of young dudes one who wore a Tuff ‘Em Up Records tee. I fronted them asking if they were associated with ‘the label?’ They claimed not to be and asked why I wanted to know. I briefly explained HCwDB mentioning that it was the premier mock site in the US (and therefore the world!) and went on to say that a recent post showed someone wearing a Tuff ‘Em Up tee shirt. Then one said to the other, ‘this won’t be good for the label…’ Maybe they weren’t associated maybe they were. Maybe they know Tuff ‘Em Up’s CEO. Maybe Tuff ‘Em Up have debts and maybe the well’s run dry. Anyway It was funny.
Yo, Dreuche, ‘pink underwear?’ Why wear any?
City Slicker Pear….La Plante,,,Argentine Porno Pear,,,,shit this is gonna be a challenge.
Phwappppin’.
All this ass pear reminds me of the heady days of ‘Sock Week 2011.
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*Homer drool* “hmmmmmm ass pear, ughhhhh”
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I know what I’ll be stuffing in my stocking this Christmas …..
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…..semen
^ actually two weeks, but who’s counting?
What did I learn from DarkSocks 2 weeks at the helm? Uhh that I really enjoy pear that and he’s got a keen eye for the good stuff.
@Nancy 3:50 pm
I’m still waiting for the go ahead until then I sit back and wait, and wait and wait.
I’m enjoying the ass pear pics here…..does that mean we’re not getting them in a FTAL post? I know the Boss said he’s not updating for a couple of days.
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I really would like to see Gynochin’s jizz-swilling expression pushed down the page (if there’s no sewage bin handy).
@ Et Tu, I hear patience is a virtue and shit.
@tall guy, um because its drafty if you don’t and I’m the excitable type if you catch my drift. Needs to be another layer between me and the general public.
@DoucheyWallnuts
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“Lurk-offs.” Hilarious. How many regs here post under 1-off names at various times? How would you even know? You could ask FlyTeeth, I guess.
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Re-read my comment. I agreed with you in the end. So it looks like you’re wrong, too.
@MITH, do you call your penis Math? If so I’m sorry, stick around and we’ll see if we can rectify that for ya.
“rectify”…heh heh huh huh heh heh heh
@MITH:
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I don’t know what you are talking about, sir.
^Indeed.
Me either.