Thoughts and Links
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Monday, May 30, 2011
Peter Pumpinhead and Mary Mamm Wish You a Happy and Pensive Memorial Day
Your humble narrator has officially returned.
Refreshed.
Revived.
Refried.
Poached and sunnyside up. Back from my spiritual quest through the West Andes, Uttar Pradesh, the Adirondacks and the second floor of Macy’s in search of new socks.
A noble and far reaching quest in which I meditated, ruminated and micturated on the subject of hottie/douchey transendentalgism.
But first I must pay homage to the legendary and superb work of the master ‘bagger who held down the fort in my absence, DarkSock.
As the site continues to grow, I hope more ‘bag hunters can join me on the mainpage and continue the fight to mock the choadscrote and lust their hottie’s suckle thigh.
Also major props to all regs who contributed posts in my absence. Your hilarious work helped push me on my journey and brought about spiritual enlightenment from the Rashi God Shard that came to me in my fever dreams and visionquest.
Tomorrow, the mock resumes full-speed.
For there are douches to be collectively ridiculed.
And boobies to be appreciated.
And therein the dialectics of Truth occur. At the cusp of the generative event horizon of phenomenological perception. Where the limitations and impermeability of cohesive language ends, the semiotics of images begin, and the Lacanian lack reflects Ourselves back to us, mediated and transformed as the Other becomes the Self. And the virtual mirror of primal perception returns archetypal truth once again.
Friday, May 27, 2011Friday Thoughts and Links – Baron Von Goolo’s 94% Pure Evil Edition
All right, you neckbeards, How about a big hand for DarkSock; He works so hard, doesn’t he?
But all that pear posting has left his good arm spongy and unresponsive, so he has asked me, Baron Von Goolo, undisputed Master of Horror within the greater Portland metropolitan region, to step in and allow some of that lactic acid to drain. It’s not like I have anything better to do…oh wait, yes I do. Best get to it, shall we?
Your BVG DVD Pick of The Week: “Feels like you’ve got a real monster in there…”
The Creep is old news, but I didn’t have a soapbox to endorse it till now. Plus, four months later it’s still awesome.
Okay, okay, you got me. Seriously, Andy Samberg? As much as I love John Waters, that was pandering. So let me make it up to you by expanding your horizons with a little musical theater.
Mmmm. Culturey.
Re: Last Sunday’s CryptKeeper Pear, Wedgie asks an unanswered question: “One thing’s for sure: pear with a dead guy is still better than pear with a douchebag…New site?”
But are the great unwashed truly ready for Hot Chicks With Body Bags?
Last year’s recipient of the Von Goolo Foundation Grant for The Sciences (either Evil or Mad), Crucial Head, unveils this obscene abomination unfit for even unpolite company…THE HUMAN ALPACAPILLAR!!!
Not scared of my new Alpacapillar? Did I mention that it’s a suppository?
Less ‘horror’ than just ‘horrible,’ Memorial Day is the unofficial first day of summer and that means it’s time for us to be bored out of our skulls watching Hollywood torch the GNP of a small, third world nation on forgettable swill. If you’re half as disappointed as I am that Ryan Reynolds is going to be Green Lantern as opposed to, say, Nathan Fillion, here’s the good news: It could have been worse. A lot worse.
Not that Hollywood would know a great movie if it bit them on the ass. Or in this case, if it bit them on the ass and caused their fragile psyches to snap like toothpicks under the crushing realization that god is an octopus that doesn’t care for us hairless monkeys very much at all.
Is Vince the Slap Chop guy still relevant? I think so. Especially if you toss in a few quarts of gore and a bushel of gratuitous profanity. And there’s something about a Boston accent that makes the word “retards” even funnier.
They’re so cute when they’re asleep.
Just in time, Mr. White offers this palate cleanser of doe-eyed überhotness. Not that MAD MEN/Community sex-pixie Alison Brie is any stranger to horror. In 2008, she had a fleeting cameo in the indie horror flick, Parasomnia. The true horror is that now everyone knows that Alison Brie was in Parasomnia. BOOM! I just dropped a steaming three coiler on your Q rating, Alison Brie! Howya like me now? Maybe next time your fancy studio lawyer will remember to include the Interwebz on the restraining order. Oh yeah, he will.
Just in case Halloween is cancelled this year, you’re all invited to the party at my place on October 21st. Plenty of YooHoo and no reason to clean up. That’s a win win, behbeh.
And since you poor, deprived chuds have gone without pear for, geez, the best part of ten minutes now, here’s this week’s official perfect bottom.
Spank it like it spilled grape juice on the white sofa.
Friday, May 20, 2011Friday Thoughts and Links with your guest host DarkSock
It is Friday here along the Gulf Coast, where we wait for the storm surge in reverse that shall soon be pulsing out of the urethral tip that crowns the turgid prong of the thick fat Mississippi River, spewing it’s engorged payload into the sodden grotto that is the soft yielding Mississippi Sound.
The Magnolia State has, in just a half decade, endured monster hurricanes, tornado bludgeoning, Limey oil spills, 100-year river floods, fire ants and Trent Lott’s perfect helmet of hair. And we, as a hard-working (albeit fairly obese) people, raise our hairy fists to the sky like fleshy anntenae and wail: “O Lord…why hast Thou not visited these plagues uponst New Hampshire? What be-eth up with that?“
And yet my thoughts wander aimlessly to the fate of DB1; yea, my musing wanders much like Douchebag1 himself. He has become a Flying DoucheMan, doomed to wander the alpaca-strewn misty Peruvian Peaks, with a bow-legged sherpa named Jorge who wipes his nethers with a sweet potato-shaped pet rock named Juan Antonio Pezet; a rough twisty stone who speaks to his bent and psychotic master in an abusive guttural voice as it barks to way of that invisible yet shining path that our wandering menstrual DoucheBag1 seeks. A higher spiritual plane of atonement and Bleethe bonement, where hilarity rodhams the clinton of baggery; a journey deep into the mists of self-discovery and enlightenment.
DB1, I do not know if you are in a place where you can read this, but if you are, let me give you this message of love and support. From Big Al Pacas, the dude with the belly tatt in the “Los Homely Boys” photo above:
“Yeah, you can tell that sumbitch DB1 that he’s still into me for 5k worth of alpaca goods, and if I don’t get paid pronto then my cousin Fat Tony’s gonna be into him; namely his kneecaps. Wit’ our friend Mista Claw Hammer. Love, Big Al Pacas (sole proprietor of Organic Alpaca Nutrition – Your one-stop online store for all your llama and alpaca butchering/lubricant supplies)”.
Go deeper into the mist, Boss…wayyy deeper…
But enough about DB1’s account receivables issues; here’s your Friday links:
Your HCwDB video pick of the week, based on these two magic words – “Drill Bra”.
Your HCwDB recommended reading of the week: Go The F*ck To Sleep.
As ruthlessly efficient as Seal Team 6 was in dispatching Eternal Douche Osama Bin Laden, they were sadly too late to save the tiny one-eyed infidel living in Bin Laden’s shorts from severe and repeated lotion-boarding sessions.
Alert Reader Mr. Scrotato Head passes along news of a Solo plastic cup plant’s closing. Could the death of the Ubiquitous Red Cup be an indicator of the tide turning in our War on DoucheBaggery? Or is it the canary in the coal mine warning us of a downturn on partying of all kinds, fist-pumping or not? We will track this carefully…
To Hell with pouty self-absorbed silicone-bulging bleethes who waste their fleeting youth trying to sulk like the magazine models and skeeze free drinks in clubs. I dig silly chicks.
A plea for help from long time MIA baghunter supreme BCS; namely, to help him loop his toe around the trigger of the shotgun in his mouth so he can Cobainically escape his own personal Courtney Love. Warning: It. Never. Ends.
Speaking of BCS, who was one of the funniest regs ever to visit the legendary comments section of this site, here’s one of his better links he shared with us. And one of the few that didn’t make you want to twist out your eyes with bleach-marinated forks.
So you’ve been invited to Baron Von Goolo’s (stolen) baby shower, but what to give the little tyke? Why, Pikachu/Cthulhu, that soft and plushy eater of souls, of course!
Ah, Hell…as if you fugs actually read the blather above instead of scrolling straight to your just desserts; namely, Ass Pear. Hell, I’ll even save you the trouble of having to click a link. Since I can’t figure out how to do a link.
Today’s theme is an architectural one…I give to you…COLUMN ASS PEAR! Enjoy!
EDIT: Apparently today’s offering is Déjà vu Pear. So, I offer you these Bonus Buttocks as penance: Side Pear LaPlante!
Friday Thoughts and Links
As I meditate and ruminate on the paid to pose party girl and the undies wearing “not as interesting as they think they are” collegiate uberschlort, I sense myself being called away.
On a mission.
A monastic retreat.
A journey to the hills of Uttar Pradesh to reconnect with my sherpa and my teacher on the art of ‘bag mock and hottie lust.
Penance for sins against my meditative and monastic hottie/douchey journey.
I have sinned. For I have coveted the Bleeth.
And have not mocked douchebags with proper linguistic assault.
What will I discover on this outer journey of inward soul? New ways of tracking Grieco Viral spread. New adjectives to describe The Holy Cleavite.
Enlightenment will come. Oh yes, it will come.
Here’s your links:
Your HCwDB DVD Pick of the Week: “Hey, no problem. Just a couple of clean American kids experimenting with sex.”
The real reason Cobain killed himself.
Nu Thang. Jesus’ De-light.
Eagle eyed reader Jim Beam looks out of his car’s windshield during rush hour one morning and discovers he’s driving behind a Bro Wagon.
Failblog tags A Dude with a Louis Vuitton tatt. The next step in douche-wear.
Reader Concerned Mother sends in pics of her seven year old daughter’s troubling douchebag dolls. And even more douchebag dolls. This is a disturbing trend that warrants monitoring.
From The Onion Sports Network: UFC Fighter Has Idea for a T-Shirt With a Bunch of Shit On It.
My hometown, Boston, prepares for the annual Slut Walk. Power to the people. And boobies.
What more must we do to complete another successful week of Mock? Oh, that’s right. Your serving of pear. Enjoy:
Unfortunately not named after our comments thread and Hall of Mock regular, Wedgie. Or is it?
Go forth and celebrate the Pear. For it is chomp. And the weekend has begunst.
Friday, May 6, 2011Friday Thoughts and Links
What defines masculinity and femininity?
That which we assume is innate to who we are, in our most primal definitions, is, of course, not innate at all but societally and culturally defined. An acquisition to be sought and bought and held and then lost again.
Florida bans bestiality and baggy pants.
We are taught and told and sold and prodded to redefine in a perpetual state of destabilization aimed to keep us in a state of constant return and revisiting to the Temple on the Mount (The Mall), where such validation can be repurchased.
Von Dutch? Long gone. Affliction? A forgotten yard sale item. Ed Hardy? On the way out.
Up next? More overpriced cultural poo. Sold at 4000% percent markup.
But I’m not bitching. For boobies call their siren call, and the real remains out there for us to find.
Here’s your links:
Your HCwDB DVD Pick of the Week: “This is my advice to you: When you get there, figure it out who’s who. Find the man nobody’s protecting. A man without friends. And beat him until his eyes bleed. Let them think you are little bit crazy, but respectful, too. Respectful of the right men.”
Two weeks ago’s Farrah Hott and The Tie Fighter hang in Vegas. That dude gets a full nottadouche and a luckiest man alive award. It’s all down hill from here, T.F.
HCwDB legend and frolic artist, the ubersquaty Bobby Batz is still out there, still lip syncing to early 00s boy bands.
For those parties where you really need to celebrate a ‘bag for being a ‘bag: Douche Cake.
Snohomish County Public Utility, located in Washington,is filled with Pud.
Here’s a well organized catalog of hott celebrity Jewesses. I would Daven with each one in a cheap motel with a vibrating bed, then make them chant their Havtorah one by one while I tickled their kneecaps with a kosher ostrich feather.
And from Semitic librarian tasty chomp, we come to another type of chomp. For your viewing pleasure, I give you:
Take a bite.
For the Weekend is uponst.
And I just got my rug cleaned.
Which is not a sexual euphemism.
Friday, April 29, 2011Friday Thoughts and Links
Rare shall we witness the unholy triumvirate of Douche Nipple Lick, Douche Hand Gesture, and Douche Kissy Lips all commingling in one overpriced Vegas shanty town.
Let us hope this image doth not pass before our eyeseth again.
No idea why I’m talking like I’m James Earl Jones’s flunky in Conan The Destroyer.
Here’s your links:
Your HCwDB Book Pick of the Week: “Feeling extremely foolish, the acting representative of Homo Sapiens watched his First Contact stride away across the Raman Plain, totally indifferent.”
The woo hotties from Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World debate why hot chicks date douchebags (starts 1:30 in).
Sure most movies have larger budgets. Actors who can act. Sets. Sound design. Catering for the crew. But where other movies lack in heart, inspiration, creativity and 80s era Dungeons and Dragons memory, The One Warrior pwns them all.
The brilliant Louis C.K. busts some Oldbaggery.
Speaking of quality comedians, here’s the late, great Mitch Hedberg at the top of his form.
For those of you keeping up with the story of the douchebag with the monster truck who killed someone outside of a strip club (and you know who you are), here are the latest updates from this breaking story.
‘Nuff of that link stuff. Here’s your pear:
Chomp. Fondle. Chomp.
For the weekend is uponst. And Adonai looked upon it, and it was good.
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 15, 2011Friday Thoughts and Links
Sneery self portraits.
Still out there.
Still deserving of a flyswatter to the face.
Here’s your links:
Your HCwDB DVD Pick of the Week: Did I ever tell you about my Uncle Max?
Google comes up with a new ad strategy: Google Boobs
An eagle-eyed ‘bag tagger captured this late night informercial warning. So true, Late Night Informercial. So true.
Former something or other from the Paris Hilton/Lindsey Lohan mid 00s celebutard era, Perez Hilton, is writing a children’s book. I’m not sure why this is relevant. Lets just move on.
It’s a pity The Phantom is so small. But at least he’s a real man. Unlike Aquaman.
The Miami Douchehearts. WARNING: No Hot Chick and plenty of douche-ass-reveal. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Bored this weekend? There’s always Tron Jeremy. Not exactly a cure for boredom. Kind of like Utah.
A fan of Angry Birds? Turns out they’re real.
But you are not here for creepy real world Angry Birds. You are here for Pear:
Firm muscles of haunch on a Friday eve. You have nothing to complain about. Go forth. Go forth, multiply and imbibe.
Friday, April 8, 2011Friday Thoughts and Links
As Friday drifts into afternoon and Los Angeles refuses to warm up for spring, I ponder Melvin Hunting Inflata-Boobies.
Not just this particular Melvin.
All the Melvins hunting Inflata-Boobies.
Did we learn nothing from the 90s silicone years?
Have we not come far from those bleach blonde peroxided halcyon days of economic prosperity and pre-boy-band innocence?
Perhaps not. But we’ll always have HoHos.
Here’s Your Links:
Your HCwDB DVD Pick of the Week: “The supermodels, Willy? That’s all they are. Bottled promise. Scenes from a brand new day. Hope dancing in stiletto heels.”
San Francisco chef Russell Jackson has good taste.
Correction: Toni Braxton did not say “I have a big-ass house, three cars and I fly first class all around the world. Some say I have the perfect life.” For the record.
American Iranians bust out some Persianbaggery.
Mecha Hineyho Fist Pumps by a homeless guy. Come at him, bro.
Clark Griswold still approves of 57 Year old Hottness. “This is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy!” (splash)
The only known photograph of a nude Liz Taylor was released after her death, taken when she was 24. It is a tasty slice of nostalgia Hollywood dreamland Cleopatric suckle thigh.
Almost looks like a baby’s arm.
More trips down memory lane from the DB1’s earliest childhood memories growing up in Boston, the TV ad for the incomparable and wonderful Boston Museum of Science that ran for nearly ten years on local stations: It’s Fun to Find Out!
For the Hipsterbags, a new song: I Hate Your Mustache!
Some magazine writer guy theorizes that older men like younger women because of cultural influence. He forgot boobies.
Now before we get to the Pear, lets first celebrate The Hottest Hott in the History of Victorian Furnished Drawing Rooms. Her shakes and shimmies reinforce a belief in spiritual deities of divinity.
And from uberhott shake, we come to Pear:
Your reward for a week of quality mock. And on towards the weekend shalst we traverse proudly, head high and sack taut.
Friday, April 1, 2011Friday Thoughts and Links
I only wish the Night Oranger were an April Fools joke.
Sadly, that dragon tatt is all sorts of fake-tanned reality.
Crazy Eyes Kendra may be an extra from “Prince of Persia 3: The Epstein Bar Mitzvah,” but her curves are firm and taut.
And so they take us softly into Friday Thoughts and Links.
Here’s your links:
Your HCwDB DVD Pick of the Week: “Call me Mr. Lamb Fries!”
Here’s a hilariously stupid Russian Wedding Video, unfortunately with unfunny sound effects added. I both celebrate and blame the black dude from “Police Academy” for unleashing decades of comedic fart and helicopter noise imitators.
Waiting for Godot: The Videogame
Rutgers University pays Snooki more money to speak than it paid Toni Morrison. Your humble narrator hangs his head in shame.
National Hockey League something or other Brandon Prust is getting it on with numerous hotts while cheating on his girlfriend Michelle Trachtenburg. Cheating on a quality Semitic librarian hott like Trachtenburg is a huge wtf no-no, but the dude’s young, a successful athlete, makes millions, and scores quality suckle thigh. So there’s that.
All you need to know about life: Fagabeefe.
Some Thief stole a computer and then got busted by the owners of the computer, who found the pud rocking out, douche style.
But you are not here for theifs dancing douche style. You are hear for fruity chomp pear. Here ya go:
Mmmm. Like warm summer brownies on a cool misty evening. And chompy suckle bite.
The weekend is nigh.
