Comment of the Week
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Saturday, January 5, 2013
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Comment of the Week: Aristotle
“Anybody can become angry – that is easy. But to be angry with the right person and to the right degree and at the right time and for the right purpose, and in the right way – that is not within everybody’s power and is not easy. Especially when the Sharkbag is macking on Tiny Mayan-Eye-of-Coitus Giggle Booble Fondles.”
- Aristotle
Loading ...Comment of the Week: Mr. Scrotato Head
Like a younger and more innocent pre-face-tatt Mack the Nozzle, Mr. Head brings the verbal smackdown in the My Daily Checklist thread and and wins the coveted HCwDB of the Week:
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Why the Hell do they need watches? You need a watch to maintain a schedule. To get to work on time. To be there for someone when they need you to help move furniture, or paint a bedroom. Knowing the time contributes to a well lived life.
You don’t need a watch to pick up your welfare check; you just check the mail-box every time you run out of Cup-O-Noodles. You don’t need a watch to know when the club opens; you just wait until its dark and your thirst for liquor is running rampant. You don’t need a watch to have sex because anyone can count ten seconds, even middle school drop outs. You might need a watch to buy a tattoo, but only a stolen watch so you can pawn it to pay for the tattoo.
You know when you’ll see a douchebag look at the satellite dish on his wrist and proclaim, “Drat, sorry chaps but I must be going. The touring display of pre-Scankophile vagina castings is opening tonight at the ‘Met and I simply can’t be late as they’ve asked me to say a few words and pose for some photos.”
That’s right. Never.
If you’re really really lucky you might see one look down at his watch with furrowed browl, call his bro over and complain, “I forget, does I get beer when the little hand is on the loopy number or on the one number what makes the sex joke when you put it with the other number?”
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Loading ...Comment of the Week: Vin Douchal
V.D. breaks down the Asshole McAssholewitz pairing and wins the coveted HCwDB Comment of the Week:
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These two are great. An Inland Empire love story
Soon, Karyn, the Slots Area waitress at Fitzgeralds, will decide that her eggs ain’t getting any stronger, what with the meth use, bad nutrition and long list of questionable sex partners and realize that maybe she’s ready to snare a mate.
She’ll have her IUD secretly taken out and McAssholewitz becomes “The Choice”. She loves the feel of sitting behind him on his Yamaha 240 He’s got a job, well sorta, as he is the bar back at the big strip club. He takes home well over $30 a night in shared tips on top of his minimum wage salary and at least there’s a health insurance plan (although the $5000 yearly deductible seems like Mt Everest).
She realizes after six months that she should be pregnant by now so at the free clinic she signs up for an experimental fertility treatment touted as “Las Vegas’ Most Discreet Planned Parenthood Office”. BOOM!, the treatment works and twins are on the way
The happy day arrives as McAssholewitz, awful tattoos sprouting out around the delivery room scrub shirt, sees his two spawn for the first time, both girls to his dismay
They name them “Hashtag” and Retweet” . His dispair knows no bounds as the screaming is multiplied exponentialy with every smelly diaper, spit up incident and 4:00 A.M. feeding
He leaves her, moving back with his buddies in Rubidoux. Her four month old poo and wailing machines drive her to the point of exhaustion until finally she is forced to move back home with her dissapointed mother, a school cafeteria worker in the Jurupa School District. She weighs 84 pounds
The D.A. of Riverside County spends the next 17 years and 8 months chasing McAssholewitz for child support payments and suspends his drivers license every other month.
McAssholewitz, now a spent, talentless, terribly ugly, friendless, unemployable middle aged lump of his former self signs the back of his $223 welfare check then says “Screw it” and eats the barrel of a .45 in his 400 square foot basement apartment in Moreno Valley. The M.E. team jokes about ” a helluva wall splatter.
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Loading ...Comment of the Week: Miler
Okay, it’s not from a thread, but as we approach the 30 year anniversary of one of the greatest philosophical treatises of our time, Repo Man, this Bud’s for Miller:
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A lot o’ people don’t realize what’s really going on. They view life as a bunch o’ unconnected incidents ‘n things. They don’t realize that there’s this, like, lattice o’ coincidence that lays on top o’ everything.
Give you an example; show you what I mean: suppose you’re thinkin’ about a plate o’ shrimp. Suddenly someone’ll say, like, plate, or shrimp, or plate o’ shrimp out of the blue, no explanation. No point in lookin’ for one, either.
It’s all part of a cosmic unconciousness.
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Loading ...Comment of the Week: Jonezy
The great Jonezy describes the paradox of the real world crazy stalker chick in the Virtues of Shelfishness thread and wins the coveted Comment of the Week:
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She has the Eye of Crazy Stalker chick that says “I hate drama” and “my last boyfriend was psycho” before she tries to trap you with fake pregnancies, STD scares, and myriad unanswered texts where she hates you, loves you, hates you again, just wants us to be together because we’re perfect for each other, without nary a response, and then you have to change your number and perhaps even your address, and then she still contacts your family, all while she’s out banging some d-bags at the club every night to fill the void you’ve left… eyes.
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Not that it’s ever happened to me or anything.
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Loading ...Comment of the Week: The Reverend Chad Kroeger
Drunken Canadian layabout and verbal thespian, The Reverend Chad Kroeger, muses on the voting proccess in the Boaty Bobby Voted… thread and wins the coveted HCwDB of the Week:
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DB1 has done his civic duty. And by civic duty I mean 10 beautious gluteus maximii. Fuck I wish I could get drunk and go pull one of them fancy handles youse got in your voting booths. All we got is a post-it note paper check box system, but it works. Almost.
Democrats
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Loading ...Comment of the Week: Ich verstehe sie ist heiß
The Germanic ‘bag hunter Ich verstehe sie ist heiß wins the coveted Comment of the Week with this short, but to-the-point, observation after observing the collection of disgrace in the Tatts, Trash, and Pensivity thread:
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This is going to be the worst bukakke video ever.
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Yes.
Yes it is.
Loading ...COMMENT OF THE WEEK: JACQUES DOUCHETEAU
Looking from the inside out, I have a new-found appreciation for the subtle genius of rewarding creative commentators with the coveted Comment Of The Week while at the same time utterly phoning in an entire weekend day by re-posting something you didn’t even write yourself in the first place.
Oh DB1, you sly boots.
Semi-aquatic regular, Jacques Doucheteau, takes home the gold this week with his pithy observations on the dearth of worth when it comes to bedding a bleeth in IT’S ALIVE…PROBABLY.
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That broad looks like a migraine f@#k. The p@#sy isn’t that great, but a damp hole is a damp hole, and the satisfaction of getting to brag about tagging that scrawny ass with much disrespect would make it that much more worth it. However…
Funbags there no doubt gets her ideas of what’s sexy from redtube and pornhub, like oh so many more of those pseudo-SoCo girls. They throw out fake scream/grunts with every thrust, a grimace of half pleasure, half discomfort from unaroused lack of lube as they force out “Huh! Huh! Huh! Huh!” repeatedly in the same ascending pitch. The sound of their bad porn actress moans drives into your eardrums like old Asian lady in a Saturday Market on a closed street, taking out unsuspecting neurons and running over your more cherished memories of girls giving genuine moans of coital triumphs, spinning the tires on their faces until they’re ground down to a bloody gore and bone soaked sludge of “Huh! Huh! Huh! Huh!” Like a cluster headache, once you get your d@#k wet you reach the point of no return, where the pain behind your eyes is so intense the only way out is a forceful injection of lidocaine and double-aught buckshot into the sinus cavities.
You pound harder and faster, slapping you d@#k muscle into her boney loins like an overtaxed steam engine piston, hoping to hurry up and be rid of the torture emanating from her vocal cords. But the fake grunts just get louder and faster in unison, and the pitch rises. Neighborhood dogs begin to howl. Nearby tenants put out “For Sale” signs. The old deaf bum who begs for Big Macs and Camo 99 down in front of the corner market vomits out his pancreas and promptly bleeds to death, his last experience in life being the first sound he hears: “Huh! Huh! Huh! Huh!”
I’d still tag it.
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So say we all, JD. So say we all.
Loading ...Comment of the Week: Vin Douchal
V.D. takes down Marty Crotchenrott’s pollution of Amanda in Vegas and wins the coveted Comment of the Week:
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Amanda’s thinking this is as good as it gets. She may be right. Three kids and yet another month with no child support payment will not be rewarded with gratification when the D.A. suspends Marty’s drivers license.
He’ll still be tooling along the 405 to his job manning the copier at Office Depot, hitting on the hot secretaries dropping off their work. The rejection piles high but Marty rises to the occassion in a tank top in front of his mirror each night, tatts out, fan blowing in his face as he mouths the words along to Maroon 5 seeing himself as a dude that just couldn’t catch the big break.
No Marty, you caught the biggest break of all when delicious Amanda fell for your line of auditory diarreah and tough guy posturing accentuated by horrible, meaningless and unsightly tattoos. And you blew it. Chaulk it up to the times and lack of effort and substance. You suck. Hard
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Loading ...Comment of the Week: Sierra
Sierra responds in the comments threads to the various deconstructivist mocks of her Reader Mail self-tag, Sierra Dates a Bouff:
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Hahaha y’all are awesome. The above relationship lasted 2 months. Mainy based on alcohol consumption. No my idea of country music isn’t Taylor Swift :)
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Read it slowly, and it is Haiku-esque tone poetry.
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