Saturday, December 26, 2015

Hans Klaussenn Vants You To Party Mit Greta on ze New Years

Large Noggin

I can’t tell if it’s the furry leg boots, the weird water bottle utility belt, or the stench of post-Reich fascist mandated dance fun enveloping this lost, wayward collection of Nordic generibots that rankles the pits of my punditry the most.

Alls I know is watching these two shards of electroglide fall into a photo-lens distorted morass of dark ambiguity and bodyspray ennui is enough to throttle all of our gizzards like some lost Herman Hesse novel on the religious profundity of scrotal fungae.

Or maybe it’s just that elbowdanna. –

Regardless, Gretaboobs say Meine Kleine Happy New Yearzenspelche!!

And really, doesn’t that just say it all?

Happy 2016.

From all of us at HCwDB.

Which is still just me.

And my ‘Train. And my brand new renovated kitchen.

# posted by douchebag1
Saturday, December 19, 2015

The 12 Days of Douchemas

Christmas3

Happy Ramadan!

EDIT: Sadly the video of “The Twelve Days of Douchemas” that posted (via LiveLeak) wasn’t playing right and the great Mr. Scrotato Head appears to have removed the clip from YouTube. Which means it is gone down the memory hole. Alas, alack, it must live on only in our collective memories as the greatest tribute video ever produced.

So instead here’s a pic of two Yuletoads macking on Jenny.

And a few more Christmas HCwDB for your pleasure/pain:

Five Golden Nims

The Dharmabag lights his orbs on fire

Christmas ‘Canebag

# posted by douchebag1
Monday, November 23, 2015

Thanksgiving Thoughts and Links

Eurobag134

Your humble narrator is pretty rusty at these sorts of things.

But as it’s turkey time, why not give it a go?

Here, just because this married Jew is feeling festive and nostalgic, is your HCwDB Thanksgiving Thoughts and Links:

Everyone has their dream scenario of what Heaven will be like. This is mine.

I cannot wait for the new Superman film.

No matter how nerdy he appears, the inner soul of Michael Cera will always be pure HCwDB.

Feeling nostalgic for vintage HCwDB ? Here’s The headbanner as it looked in 2006. And here it is in 2007 after I got some design all up in this place. Here’s an actual image of your humb narrs writing the site in 2006. And a pic I took in the Douche Vortex (Hard Rock Casino in Vegas) later that year. On the one year anniversary of this site, March 20th, 2007, a dedicated fan emailed me the following list of early HCwDB milestones. Not sure if I was honored or slightly concerned at that level of dedicated readership. Thankfully, after that point the regulars that came here turned out to be much more normal.

And while we’re getting all punctum up in this shizz, here’s my first radio appearance on Britain’s Ugly Phil Show back in January of 2007. I sound confused and slow because I am both confused and slow. And yes, it was that appearance that gave me the idea to call my show “Is She Really Going Out With Him?” when MTV told me “douchebag” could not appear in the title.

But enough about this site. Back to the links.

This week in aristocratic, elitsts fratbag douchetools. The media nicknaming this CEO a ‘pharma bro‘ should make all of us pleased to see HCwDBian influence continue in all areas of contemporary culture, even if this site doesn’t get the credit it deserves.

Fake nerd Chris Hardwick has ridden Comicon exploitation all the way to this. And this. Along with Jimmy Fallon, they will squeeze every last ounce of 1980s nostalgia all the way to the bank.

Here’s a clip from an upcoming documentary on Chinatown Fair, the ancient arcade in New York’s Chinatown where you could pay a quarter to make a live chicken dance on a hot plate. I spent many a boozy late night in the 90s making that chicken dance.

Speaking of New York nostalgia, Pete Hamill offers a reflection on how much New York City has changed during his lifetime. Most of what made NYC unique is long gone. I sometimes keep track of all the places I used to love now forced to close because of rent increases on the great blog Vanishing New York.

Hells, lets go further back in time.

February, 1986. Brookline, Massachusetts. The Edward Devotion School gymnasium. Seventh and Eighth Grade Valentine’s Day Dance. 8:32pm. Your humble narrator asks a sexy twelve year old Russian Jewess named ‘Masha’ to join him for his very first slow dance. She seems uninterested. Reluctantly says yes. The song? This masterwork from 1984. They dance. Then Masha excuses herself. Two songs later, Masha is slow dancing with Erik, captain of the basketball team and future semi-employed Masshole.

And the first seeds of HCwDB were planted.

Happy Turkey Day!

# posted by douchebag1
Saturday, October 31, 2015

Happy Halloween from HCwDB!!

AdamPoobert

BOO!!

EDIT: Apparently upset at this revival mocking of Closet of Poo enshrinee The Poopaloompa, someone named Luna posted in the comments thread to offer a defensive justapoopafication:

——
The funny thing about this “douche bag” is that he is one of the kindest people alive today, but none of you take the time to know this. He probably helped get those women into shape, you know, because he is a personal trainer as well as a very successful musician. What have any of you done to better your lives, you know, besides making a website dedicated to putting down other people you know absolutely nothing about. The real douche bag reward belongs to every single one of you on account of being jealous twats.
——

Let us all marvel at the benevolence of this guy. For let he who is without ab crunch cast the first hottie training session.

# posted by douchebag1
Friday, October 23, 2015

The Evolution of Hottie/Douchey Cohabit

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Hark! Halt!

Put down that greasy/lumpy cig smoking choadtollery cohabit with Sultry Poor Credit Charlotte and listen!

Like Willy Loman, attention must be paid!

Douche with Hott Paradox is now, finally, evolutionarily and Darwinianly explained!

Yes, it all now makes sense.

Chief Dances With Crabs.

Poppa Squatter.

Even this unholy collection of toxic sparrow spittle.

Brazilian Emo Hulk understands. It knew it this entire time.

The answer was simple. The rippling lobsterian torsos of fate are nothing more than the mechanism of deception by which hott is fooled.

I suppose after eight years of this site in its prime, we already knew that. But what the heck. It is good to be reminded once again.

# posted by douchebag1
Wednesday, October 7, 2015

The Manicorn

Manicorn

So Man buns are now a thing.

One that cannot, nay, must not stand. Not with hair band. Nor clip.

Whether appearing on quasi-celebrities or just in classic douchepose selfies, we are witnessing the spread of an insidious follicular blight.

For this douche ooze bridges the generations. An amalgam of hippie nostalgia, metrosexual choadery, and the emergent lumbersexual gender crossing vortex of confusion to produce a giant circular Princess Leia hairpoo.

Lo, the moment is bleak. Enough to make me break my self-imposed HCwDB silence. Not even spiritual appeal to OatesStache can cure my disquiet.

I dub these festions of toxic rot ‘Manicorns.’  For mock is our only hope. It may not stop the onslaught of next-wave ‘Baggery. But it can at least mitigate the cultural reprehension.

Friday, September 18, 2015

And then this happened…

Glambag

So what if the ghost of David Bowie masticated on the corporeal remains of a sunburned Axl Rose and pooped out two Gary Glitters and a Gary Busey?

This is the what.

This is that poop.

Retro Glam Gwynneth deserves better.

If for no other reason than the five year Sarah Lawrence reunion is coming up and there is no way she is showing up to that beer hall in Brooklyn with this bloated toothpaste tube of Aqua Stale. What would Ashley think?

On a related note, if you miss my musings, you can check out a side project Facebook page I just started up, Cockroaches of New York. It’s just like the award winning Humans of New York. But with cockroaches.

# posted by admin
Thursday, August 20, 2015

Reader Mail: Australian Shane Warne is a Cricketdouche

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Despite the retirement of HCwDB from the public discourse, Aussie Pete demands that the mock continue by calling out some foreign sports playing tool with an extremely douchey haircut by the name of Shane Warne.

———–
DB1,
Would love to see you break into the world market, mocking the detritus that washes up on the shores of the world.

Warnie is an Aussie Douche, par excellance.

Redeeming features:- Best cricketer of the modern era, stole Elizabeth Hurley from the Four Weddings & a Funeral Dude, has rooted lots of chicks, et al.

Douchey features:- Look at him.

His crowning glory is the ultimate pool party painting.

– Aussie Pete
—————

I have no clue who this clown is. But since he stole the lavicious and lascivious Liz Hurley from that dude who starred in Lair of the White Worm, I will temporarily cast off my hermetic hiatus for a brief mock.

This pathetic pudtwiddle of twaddling pudwankery is the definition of douchebro.

I could spend a fortnight simply mocking his posture.

But that is not the purpose of this post.

The purpose of this post is to marvel at the genius that is Warne’s unbelievably ridiculously garish wall art. Not since Jeff Koons sculpted Michael Jackson and Bubbles or the rumored Alex Rodriguez centaurs have I been so simultaneously aghast and amazed. This piece of pop horror that apparently took seven years to concoct, may be the douchiest collection of oils in one place since Brian Austin Green switched to decaf.

# posted by douchebag1
Friday, August 14, 2015

Humpster Dumpster

94043Humpster Dumpster sat on a wall,
Humptster Dumpster had a great fall,
All Stephanie’s besties,
And all Stephanie’s friends,
Agreed that Humpster Dumpster’s ginormous douchelips should be smacked with a rusty kaiser blade by Anthony Michael Hall.

# posted by douchebag1
Saturday, August 1, 2015

Billy Wankowsky Sings Yacht Rock to Youthful Kelly

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Billy Wankowsky has a secret.

That secret is Yacht Rock.

What is Yacht Rock? That lame douchebro fratchoad music for over forty years of lip biting, high fiving, boat sailing and Bud Light Lime summers.

Like Melville’s symbiotic whale/fish interplay that circumnavigates their douchey-ass trawlers, Fratrock and Douchechoad are a perfect margarita blend of trust fund pablum and culture blender generi-spittle.

All should beware when fratchoads like Billy hum along to remixed Doobie Brothers and fry up some ‘awesome dogs, yo’ on their boat grill. For theirs is a self contained ecosystem. A wretched hive of scam and Valium. The perfect modus operendi for wanky trusty rusty twatwaddles. Whilst lame soft rock seventh chords strummed to falsetto repetition provides the generic soundtrack to their aging, deadened, sun ripened soul shard.

But the greatest tragedy lies in what is slayed on their veritable whale hunt of pop culture somnambulism. For their overplayed ‘classic rock’ soundtrack is not merely accompaniment. It offers the soothing Steelydanitude of inappropriate dazzle. The harmonic wailings that woo ubersucklefondle quality of Youthful Kelly and her purity of holistic hottitude.

And that is true tragedy of the spectral rotting whale corpse beached on the sands of a grossly unexamined life.

Happy summer from the DB1!

# posted by admin
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