Snuffaluffacrotch
Don’t look now, Aging Vegas Party Girl Gina! But there’s a Snuffaluffacrotch about to nibble on the neck of your nape!
Laugh it up, Sidekick Frank. When female rejection at the pool reaches 100% saturation, your hamburgers are next on the menu.
"Bozies in Brooklyn"
This pic is an except from Michael Chabon’s latest McSweeney’s article, “The Time In That Bar By The Place I Used To Know.”
It’s a pensive and whimsical paean to a lost, mythic world of Brooklyn bars in the pre-internet age, written in short, staccato sentences that alternate between pop culture deconstruction and British literary L’Enfant allusions to the Amis/Hitchens years. And, of course, with the obligatory reference to David Foster Wallace.
EDIT: Since “A Chick in a Bikini Riding a Bike” was taken off YouTube, I took down the link. You’ll just have to imagine its awesomeness.
The Pear Bomber Strikes Again
Who knows what doucheyness lies in front of the pears of women… The Pear Bomber knows…
HCwDB of the Week: Yankee McSpankee and Andrea's Dreas
Maybe because my beloved Red Sox upchucked the proverbial half-chewed bit in a hail of suckwad this year, but I’mma give the HCwDB to Yankee McSpankee and the glories of Andrea’s Dreas.
Last week also had Epic Dump, the Worst Anything in the History of Everything video, Herpster Jett, and even Paco McScribble and Candy’s Cans in competition.
But idiotic grenade tatt is enough to claim ‘bag this week.
And the Dreas are glories pokie prods of suckle fondle.
So chalk ’em, and your humb narrs for a toasted english muffin. With jelly. Lots of grape jelly.
The Worst Anything in the History of Everything
It’s eaten things that would make a billy goat puke.
Comment of the Week: UFO Destroyers
UFOD brings the cost analysis to blowing up the Hard Rock in the Epic Dump thread and wins the coveted Comment of the Week:
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The military has actuaries that caculate how much it might cost in case a jet crashes in populated areas or a bomb goes off the range and strikes private property. The reasoning is to determine the “risk-reward” equation. Now, if a fully-loaded remotely piloted B-52 (the bomber, not the band) crashed into the Vegas strip while on departure from Nellis AFB and wiped out, say, Rehab on a Saturday afternoon, the “reward” side of the equation would be off the charts. Fewer future welfare recipients, fewer Ed Hardy purchases thereby putting the company out of business faster, fewer STDs, fewer room temperature IQs clogging up the gene pool’s filter, and a lot of new construction jobs to rebuild the area so it could be done all over again. Also, it would give the Air Force a chance to test out remote control bombers and their precision target acquisition guidance systems. It’s not like the military would be losing any possible recruits, just your local Valvoline Instant Oil and McDonalds.
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Friday Thoughts and Links
Oh Orange hatted turd and bleeth. How you deserve each other.
Your humb narrs is sipping on a URC of quality Mogen David fortified strawberry and lime wine. To honor the New Year.
I sit my unshaven ass in temple and reflect. And by reflect, I mean checking out the hott Beverly Hills Semitic Suckle Thighs. They of the overpriced bags, dating the overpriced ‘bags.
And so my rants continue, but also in a new venue. Lucky Punkass.
Finally live. No idea what I’m going to say on it. Doubtful many will read it. But I need it for my sanity. So there’s that.
Here’s your links:
“‘”What has restrained the beasts of prey who are called men?'”
Malaysia declares V-Necks to be “gay”. This is awful, bigoted crap. Mock douchebags for looking douchey, yes. I can support that. But targeting gay people based on some supposed dress code? We should drop these clowns into Jersey and let them try to categorize sexual preference based on clothing. Pisses me off. Even makes me want to start wearing a v-neck as a gesture of resistance. Not that I will. Just sayin’.
The many faces of Cusack. Loooong time readers of HCwDB might remember my trip to the Better Off Dead house back in the halcyon days of ’07. Please do not judge my choppy-ass writing in that post, I was still figuring the site out. That movie was perfection. My pilgrimage to Lane Meyer’s home was my own trip to Mecca.
Oh, racism on television. Is there no ethnicity you can’t mock?
The Champagne Sisters (Katie, Kelly, and Karmen) are nothing but trouble. Boobie trouble.
Next thing you’ll tell me is that the obnoxious guy in those 1990s “eat something!” Subway ads was actually Keith Olbermann.
But you are not here for 90s Olbermann. You are here for Pear.
The ripples of a better tomorrow. And, to honor my former life in NYC:
Juicy.
Friday Haiku
The Second Coming?
No; Charles Manson finally won
His bid for parole.
Quartasian Mia
sees face of God; it’s after
this guy strangles her
— Morbo
Dressing like Jesus
Scores even more under age
tang than Mall Santa.
— The Casual Teabagger
Why does Jesus smell
Like he’s been sleeping in a
Dumpster for a year?
— Capt. James T. Douche
Some Excellent Mocks
My friends! Enjoy them right now.
We will burn tonight.
— Franklyn DealorNo Doucheifelt
Epic Dump
For there are no other words of poetry, nay, ‘cept those t’were the epic dump.
