Friday, November 8, 2013

    Friday Thoughts and Links

    Mongor

    Oh, Mongor.

    How you drift languidly through your vapid, meaningles life like a somnambulant Skeksi.

    Oh sure, there are moments when a shaft of illustrative consciousness strikes through the dark, primal mold of your conscious being. Every so often, your limited grunting is beset by a paroxysm of clarity. A flash. A sliver. A thought you can barely articulate.

    How do we make sense of this inordinately complex world in which we are given the grace to occupy for a few short decades? How do we seek higher meaning while distracted by the everyday mundanities of preserving the body over the nourishment of the mind?

    But then the server comes by.

    And the DJ drops the bass.

    And it’s time to Woo! into the abyss once again.

    Here’s your links:

    Your HCwDB Buy Some Shit on Amazon and Support the Site Link of the Week: “If all pleasure is relief from tension, junk affords relief from the whole life process, in disconnecting the hypothalamus, which is the center of psychic energy and libido.”

    Now that’s a drink holder!

    Terry Richardson is not edgy. He is what I like to call the Anal Wart Photochoad.

    Speaking of photos, 30 amazingly moving photos. It’s a big world out there, kids. Do not look at these pictures lightly.

    Ever feel like society is slipping into a dystopian sci-fi novel? I give you: Child MMA.

    Lorde continues to challenge the generic pop-star paradigm. There may be hope for pop music yet.

    Yeesh. I will never complain about the New York subways again.

    Okay kids! Lets play around round of Brooklyn or Silverlake!

    Game of Toblerones.

    Understand the bodybuilding fake tan using this carefully calibrated venn diagram.

    Okay. Here’s ya go:

    GiggleBobblePear

    For the real world smush glass inside all of us.

    # posted by douchebag1
    Friday, November 1, 2013

    Friday Thoughts and Links

    I'm not sure this is a costume

    Chief BallsInFace says “Happy Halloween!!”

    Kelly says “Tee hee, take that, Stepfather!”

    Don’t ask. Long back story.

    Holy crap, Los Angeles takes Halloween seriously. It’s just like the other 364 days a year. Except instead of desperate fading actor-hyphenates and screenwriter/barristas pitching projects with animated hand gestures and misspelled treatments, they do so visually via elaborate costume/performance.

    And everyone (pretends to) have fun!

    Yeeahh. Suck it, Halloween Los Angeles.

    I don’t recall my parents going to elaborate costumic lengths when I was busting out my bet Han Solo in the early 1980s.

    But that was then and this is now.

    And a kids holiday has turned into a social media showpiece. I’m sure I’d be able to tie this semi-rant to my new hated enemy Chris Hardwick, but I don’t dare look at his fifteen social media outlets for fear of rage boil.

    Hashtag: NerdasCareerMove.

    Grumble grumble.

    I blame my bad mood and lack of sleep on the two hundred candy corns I ate last night. Also on the baby, who won’t shut its pie hole. And also alpaca porn, courtesy of Douche Wayne’s trip to the circus.

    Here’s yer links:

    Your HCwDB buy some shit on Amazon to support the site link of the week: Now I get it

    People often ask me how hot chicks can become douchebags without douchal signifiers: Here’s your answer.

    Is this herpster? Or is it dancer?

    And now! The new sitcom from the creative mind behind Family Guy and Ted! I give you…. Dickwads!. They’re both dickwads. But their parents are dickwads, too!! Buhahahaha!!

    Future guest star on Dickwads?: Dick Armey.

    Long time HCwDB douchenozzle Riff Raff makes the Rolling Stone.

    In Western Australia, Aussiebags with Hummers land in jail. We have much to learn from the land of Oz.

    My favorite alt band of the late 1980s? Love and horses.

    I was a firm supporter of Obamacare until this ad ab campaign launched.

    Breaking news: Children stank. More on this critical story.

    To raise awareness for testicular cancer, Brazil created a mascot. Meet Mr. Balls. The greatest anything in the history of everything.

    Okay, nuff of Mr. Balls. Here’s your pear:

    Spank the Pear Gently Pear

    Not enough? Ok:

    Pensive Scribble Shower Pear

    You’re velcome.

    # posted by douchebag1
    Friday, October 25, 2013

    Friday Thoughts and Links

    The Melon checker

    The Melon Checker knows what’s up.

    And what’s up is that those melons ain’t gonna check themselves.

    Certainly not with the FDA in upheaval after the shutdown.

    Why, who knows what insidious boob flu might sneak through customs without the yeomanlike work of boobal inspections as performed by The Melon Checker?

    So next time you see a Melon Checker, don’t be afraid!

    Reach out! Come on! Melon Checkers are people too! Well, maybe not. But you get what I mean.

    Hug a douche!

    Here’s yer links:

    Your HCwDB Buy Some Shit and Support the Site Link of the Week: What to get when Lumburgh steals your stapler.

    This human being sucks. Truth. 100% truth.

    Your humb narrs did an interview with the HCwDB supporters over on the Girls Gone Wild blog.

    You might be a doucheneck if…

    Larry King is an oldbag. But you knew that.

    When the douches get lazy, then only lazy people will be douchebags. Or something.

    If you haven’t seen The Room, Tommy Wiseau’s sublime 2003 piece of cinematic performance art, this book will help you understand the genius at work.

    Noted Hollywood douchebag Russell Brand is a blathering idiot who spews word salad enough to fool the masses into thinking he’s some sort of Dionysian intellectual rebel. I have far more respect for Hollywood bimbos who understand the shallow depths of their own limitations. Know thyself, Russell. You ain’t an intellectua.

    In Mexico, thug life echoes American douchebaggery. No surprise. It is a global plague, after all.

    Hollywood’s secret sex parties. The only one I was invited to involved a lingerie clad Kathy Bates and a vat of Crisco in a bathroom at a motel off Sunset and Hyperion. Good times.

    Okay. You been good. Here’s your pear:

    Pear Jazzle

    No I don’t know what it means either.

    # posted by douchebag1
    Monday, October 21, 2013

    Art That Dares to Criticize

    Lorde

    This is Lorde.

    She’s a singer from New Zealand whom you’ve probably heard of. Usually with the caveat, “sixteen year old.” And that is noteworthy, I suppose. But not as noteworthy as her music.

    Lorde currently has the number one song in the country with Royals, a stripped-down bluesy critique of the fetishization of bling and Cristal sipping fantasy life.

    It’s a masterpiece of a pop song hidden in a simple, hypnotic anti-dance mix. Musically appealing at the same time it sneakily subverts the requisite formal expectations of the genre it usurps.

    Gone are the dubstep bass drops and over-sampled drum tracks of our Miley Cyrus Skrillex produced artifical landscape. Instead we receive the simple snapping of the fingers. This is pop music as rejection rather than celebration. Criticism rather than inclusion.

    You might even say Lorde is her own form of ‘bag huntress.

    The song’s simple refrain dispenses with the generic tropes of overproduced pablum and replace it with a simple clarion truth call — the voice. The pounding dance-track tribal thumps of the mass media machine gives way to the vocal harmonies of resignation and acceptance.

    The dream is bullshit. The party doesn’t exist.

    Reversing the economic hierarchy of mass-produced Katy Perry Barbiedoms, Lorde talks up, rather than down. The pop song as audience voice. All this in the form of a pop hit. All this from within the machine itself.

    And so truth to power climbs the pop charts.

    And a “sixteen year old” slays the beast.

    Analog reality slays the digital fraud. Left in its wake is a simple critique. The Ghosts of Britney grab money by selling ideal beauty and dreamland nightscapes of limousines and champagne. All while taking money from the poor wannabes who will never, ever drink from that fantasy chalice.

    But Lorde is also a very young woman. So while I often pollute our cultural discourse with my own reduction of ladies into “hot chicks,” I will refrain from commenting on Lorde’s hottness. Suffice to say, 2015 will be a very good year. Not only for hottness. But also for talent.

    But I come here not to discuss Lorde’s future hottness. I come here to discuss the recent kerfuffle, and yeah I just said kerfuffle, that broke out when Lorde criticized pop starlet Selena Gomez for promoting a woman-as-sex-object fantasy via her song, “Come & Get It”.

    Lorde commented in an interview in Rolling Stone:

    “I love pop music on a sonic level, but I’m a feminist and the theme of her song ‘Come & Get It,’ is when you’re ready come and get it from me.. I’m sick of women being portrayed this way.”

    Lorde was immediately and mercilessly mocked for daring to point out how the starlet machine sells young female singers as sex objects. The idiotic Gomez replied:

    “I think she is super talented and I think it’s awesome. But I think at the same time that feminism and that specific thing is very sensitive because in my opinion it’s not feminism if you’re tearing down another artist.”

    The stupidity. It burns.

    What clueless clowns like Gomez don’t understand is that real art criticizes. Real art challenges. Overturns. Mocks. Disturbs the status quo.

    Real art forces us to think about our suppositions. Our assumptions. About gender. About sexuality. About race. About class. About life.

    What genericlowns like Miley Cyrus and Selena Gomez produce is not art, it is product. To call them “artists” is to vomit in Duchamp’s urinal. Actually, no. Strike that. Vomiting in Duchamp’s urinal would be the first artistic gesture that Selena Gomez ever made, whether or not she fluffed James Franco in a Harmony Korine film.

    To her credit, Lorde refused to issue the standard mea culpa forced on celebrities who dare to rock the media boat. It takes a 16 year old girl to call bullshit on the electric whore show.

    And it’s about time.

    ———

    TL;DR: I like Lorde because she’s willing to criticize the underlying assumptions of contemporary popular media.

    # posted by douchebag1
    Friday, October 18, 2013

    Friday Thoughts and Links

    1384366_729238343756255_1371927891_n

    May your weekend pass like a photobombing Warren Beatty Bro in presence of a scaled down Patsy Kensit party hott and her sexy Malaysian friend at a creepy wedding in Sheboygan.

    Sadly, as I learned the other day when I queried a room full of hott appreciators, no one knows who Patsy Kensit is anymore. This makes your humb narrs sad. As a fallow teenager, I weeped tears of action-adventure sadness when Kensit was forced to die as part of Riggs’s grieving process in Lethal Weapon 2.

    It broke my Hebraic heart that this lithe Aryan suckle hott with the alpaca-like overbite would need to die so an alcoholic anti-Semite could quell the crazy for an hour or two.

    So here’s to you, Patsy Kensit.

    You may have married one of the douchiest flash-in-the-pan British rock stars of all time and consigned yourself to a 1990s Trivial Pursuit card for eternity. But I still poke your proddle.

    Here’s yer links:

    Your HCwDB Buy Some Shit To Support the Site Link of the Week: What HC1 will ideally be wearing on Halloween. What HC1 will actually be wearing on Halloween.

    In Soviet Union, guitar play hot chick.

    The Griecobag himself, source virus of the entire douche plague, Richard Grieco posted his latest artwork to Facebook. Here it is: Dawn of the Wolf. You’re welcome.

    Internet sensation and Semitic Boobie Hottie Suckle Thigh Meytal Cohen. Still out there. Still without a discernible form of income.

    When they ask you about the 1980s, tell them this.

    Want proof we’re winning the war on douchebaggery? Victory!

    The latest Chinese beach trend: Face-kini.

    Here’s 38 images of Brechtian genius.

    Okay. Nuff that. For those of you in the winter climates as it grows colder:

    Ocean Peartacular

    Wave butt.

    # posted by douchebag1
    Friday, October 11, 2013

    Friday Thoughts and Links

    The Mark of the Douche

    The Mark of the ‘Bag marks douche for all those who doubt douchitude.

    The Mark of the ‘Bag comes in many shapes and forms.

    But whether grease stain or silly heart, the Mark of the ‘Bag does not lie.

    Perfection Sarah plays lutes of suckle poke undies gargle. Like a deep fried plantain or a cronut dipped in Bosco, hers are the lickable pooch fondle of harmonic bobble. Do not doubt the disease curing power of her taut milk thighs or sweet supple steroid-free farm raised thighs and wings. For they do not age and do not wither. Not without God hanging his head in shame.

    Here’s your links:

    Your HCwDB Buy Some Shit to Support The Site Link of the Week: Judge my fetishes not lest ye be judged.

    HCwDB’s own Mr. Biggs has finally realized his longtime graphic novel project and it is amazing. Check it out and show your support: Inferno Los Angeles

    No Hope.

    Even when Benzino hangs with a bro, the whole thing is kinda creepy.

    What the world needs now: More female streakers

    Funny or Die’s Between Two Ferns interviews porn star Justine Bieber.

    And then there’s dinosaur erotica. Of course there is.

    British newspaper analyzes San Francisco techie herpsters, comes up with the word ‘douchebag.’ Meh, close enough.

    Priests hanging out with 15 year old kids not wearing pants? I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.

    Meanwhile, in terrorism news, The Unipooper strikes again!

    Okay, here’s ya go:

    YOLOpear

    Not enough? Okiedokie:

    Pearjazzle

    Like buttpear for photoshop.

    # posted by douchebag1
    Friday, October 4, 2013

    Friday Thoughts and Links

    so so much wrong here

    When the Armenian Eyebrows of Mediocrity score Punkrocker Hottie Kaylie, you know it’s Friday.

    Your humb narrs was up all night with a two month old who just got her shots. But when you got a cutie that looks all cute, you don’t sweat the small stuff.

    And yes, it’s hard to oggle the hotties now that I’m the father of a little girl. I can feel the karmic winds of justice building knowing that some little two month old boy out there in the mists will slowly grow into a scrotal fratpud over the next twenty years, and then show up on my doorstep in 2033 with whatever postapocalyptic douche gear is in style. And say, “Is BC1 home?”

    Payback is a bitch.

    Woe is my future.

    Here’s your links:

    Your HCwDB Buy Some Shit and Support the Site Link of the Week: Got a kid? Booo!!!

    And while you’re at it, if you live in the greater Portland area and aren’t a granola crunching anti-establishment asswank, check out the great Baron Von Goolo’s Frighttown!!. It just opened and will be, as always, the beating heart of the vampiric soul.

    The Hand of the Collective Unconscious strikes again.

    Please turn him off.

    You may be clouds, but you are no Pumpy.

    Darksock enjoys a Horse lime.

    Remember six pound douchewatches? Get ready for Six Pound Smart Douchewatches. In Philadelphia? It’s worth fifty dollars.

    The new bodywash? Groinwash.

    The performance that got Elvis Costello banned from Saturday Night Live, proving that Lorne Michaels was a tool even back in the 1970s. I wonder what SNL would be like today if it was still on the air.

    Okay, nuff of all that. How about some:

    Real World Bubblegumpear

    Not enough?

    Woodpear

    Like a hearty meaty meat fireplace of soothing mellow.

    # posted by douchebag1
    Monday, September 30, 2013

    Angry Moe and the Jenny Triplets

    dxfdsf

    Random thoughts as I celebrate the end of Breaking Bad, a solid win by my New England Patriots, and only the faintest remants of a post-diapey change binge on quality Night Train tasty screw-top wine last night:

    Angry Moe has a large cap on his head.

    If I don’t shower for more than two days, my inner left thigh begins to faintly smell of brie.

    My inner right thigh, however, smells like petunias.

    I really, really, really like bacon.

    And by bacon, I mean sucklepear.

    HC1 is mildly bemused by my propensity to oggle sucklepear in both digital and three dimensional form.

    HC1 still does not know much about my single days, such as adventures with the likes of Hall of Hott member Veronica. Lets hope she doesn’t read this post.

    But now I change diapeys and sleep in 2-3 hour blocks.

    And, when I get around to it, mock douchewanks like Angry Moe and consider how I would’ve approached the Jenny Triplets way back in the 00s.

    # posted by douchebag1
    Friday, September 27, 2013

    Friday Thoughts and Links

    scribbledibblemibblefibble

    It takes a bold couple to scribble text on their bodies, grease up, then display that inked body as some form of phallus/vag genital prize on the carnal catwalk of summer beach culture.

    And by bold, I mean silly.

    Your humb narrs is sipping a coffee and reflecting on life.

    Perhaps the days of blog-based entertainment no longer make sense in a world of custom feeds and hive-mind comedy sites like Reddit.

    But fuggit. I got nothing else to do.

    Have some links:

    Your Amazon Buy Some Shit and Support the Site Link of the Day: My seven-week-old baby, BC1, did not appreciate her latest crib partner.

    Confused on how to tag a douchebag in the wild? Consult this handy graph.

    Meanwhile in fake PC sporting leagues, the WNBA simply does not respect its target audience.

    Douche Product Alert: Genital Dye. For when you need to wash the gray away. On your genital. Singular.

    Because sometimes old people just wanna be noticed.

    William Swagspeare.

    Dat ass. Don’t ask me, I just work here.

    From father to son: Generation ‘Bag.

    Okay, nuff on this nonsense. Heres ya go:

    PawPrintPear

    Not enough? Okay, one more:

    HeavenPear

    You’re welcome.

    # posted by douchebag1
    Friday, September 20, 2013

    Friday Thoughts and Links

    OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

    There is no God.

    No God.

    There can be no ontological meaning in this nihilist sea of seagull poop.

    Not when a choadnut like Sparky scores premium top shelf Golden Globes like the ones on Kyra here.

    Nope.

    No God.

    No God would allow this.

    Not even Vishnu.

    Here’s yer links:

    Your HCwDB buy some shit to pay for this site even though I never update it anymore: Pooooooooooooopie!!!

    Chicks with Steve Buscemi eyes.

    The Adventures of… Duderman.

    File under atrocious Brooklyn herpsterism: A DJ School for Toddlers. I blame Lena Dunham.

    Bad Pear.

    This week in some guy’s version of the Jump to Conclusions Mat: Poo-pourri.

    The greatest obituary ever written.

    For those who’ve seen the very artistic short animated film produced by Chipotle, here’s an excellent behind the scenes interview with the animation team.

    “Frog Goes Croak” for the worst video of the year.

    Okay, you’ve been good. Here ya go:

    PeartotheFuturePear

    And by flux capacitor, I mean bum boingo.

    Enjoy the weekend, kids. It’s only 2/7ths of our lives.

    # posted by douchebag1
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