Your Saturday Sharkbag
Just when you thought it was safe to go in the clubs.
We’re gonna need a bigger cattleprod.
That’s not a tatt. I’ll show you a tatt.
Chariot of the Puds
“Lo! And when the Lord your G-d presents to you the burning bush of Heidi, and her shepherd of douche Spencer, and when they regard the Archangel Audigier, their spawn shall be the unholy Scrotan Child, who will usher in the Dark Douchepocalypse.” — Chariot of the Puds, p. 342
Friday Thoughts and Links
Only a few muted thoughts, as we sail on into this Memorial Day Weekend, and Night Oranger greases up his chest shave to impress Chrissie.
And my thought is this: Life is like a teenage Samoan mudwrestler.
Onery. Dirty. And enjoys tasty samplings of assorted Beech’s candy after matches.
No idea what the hell I’m saying anymore. Here’s your links:
Squidbillies on Adult Swim gets into the animated douche mocking business. I approve.
The Village Voice blog riffs on the Ed Hardy condom, HCwDB style.
Speaking of the Hardpocalypse: Ed Cardy.
One of the greatest SNL sketches of all time: Lord and Lady Douchebag.
With apologies to the late, great Rodney Dangerfield for stealing his line: Now I know why tigers eat their young.
I find soccer to be root-canal painful to watch, but this ad is pretty genius.
And off Benny’s genius performance in one of the true masterpieces of the 1990s, I give you an assterpiece:
Go forth unto Canaan and spread the word of ‘bag mocking. So sayeth Saul’s best friend, Morty. For it was another solid week of ‘bag mocking and hott lusting. And you deserve your weekend.
Tammy and Bob are Killin' Time, Waitin' For Ass Pear
Yup. One of those lazy-ass Fridays for your humble narrator, who’s running out of quality HCwDB pics and desperately scrambling to make posts out of increasingly thin material.
I knew I picked the wrong week to give up sniffing scratch-and-sniff stickers.
Tammy and Bob are Killin’ Time, Waitin’ For Ass Pear
Yup. One of those lazy-ass Fridays for your humble narrator, who’s running out of quality HCwDB pics and desperately scrambling to make posts out of increasingly thin material.
I knew I picked the wrong week to give up sniffing scratch-and-sniff stickers.
No More Philosophy
—-
subject: may 22 philosophic picture
Hi, I am the person in the picture that was posted on may 22 under philosophic saturday ramble.
I am not sure how anyone obtained this photo. This is a professional picture for a Versace Advertisment and is copyrighted. I have the proof from my agency. I would like to know whom submitted this photo.
I thank you for your cooperation.
— reema
—-
Feds are still working on tracking down the mysterious submitter of the image, Reema, but local police have released the following image of the suspect, believed to be a fugitive from the law and douching abroad in France.
Good luck with your investigation, and may this culprit be apprehended for his crimes against humanity.
Friday Haiku
Cheap flight to Cancun,
Ken’s shades “blu-block” poverty,
Angie’s tortadas: perky.
Now I know why its
called Montezuma’s revenge.
Grieco virus breeds.
— Dr. Bunsen HoneyDouche
Mexican rulers
Considering a big fence
To keep out the douche
— Bagnonymous
Make love, not war BOOBS
Tune in, turn on, drop out BOOBS
Groovy, far out BOOBS
— Wheezer
His giant wrist watch
Solemnly reminds me that
It’s time to get ill.
— Crucial Head
American spunk
Fleshing out a peace agreement
Ernesto says no
— saulgoode42
Its Jamacian Day
Lake Elsinore bombarded
With 4:20 Douche
— Vin Douchal
The Great Gatsbag
Interestingly, the working title for this post was “Daisy’s Buchanans.”
The Thompson Twits
Hard times have fallen on 80s one-hit-wonder act, “The Thompson Twits.”
Forced into Groin Shave Reveal club appearances, marking up their bodies with mutant raisins, and having lead singer Gwen pretend she’s Maggie Gyllenhaal before she hit the wall at 28, it’s just all sorts of stress for their agent, Broadway Danny Rose, to find them quality bookings on the nostalgia circuit.
Yup. I’m babbling again. Not making sense. And I apologize for this pic. It’s borderline cruel to inflict such toxic GSR upon you without warning, or at least the offer of mild sedatives in advance of viewing. But this is douchebaggery in 2010. So we must witness.
Reader Mail: The Unisex Yaz Dangler
Reader Sac writes in:
—–
Yo!
so this chick’nhead tries holla’n at my nigga Mocha…
this chick’nhead must be out her got-damn mind…see, cause Mocha is a junk yard dawg..he drops Sergio Valente style in people’s assholes.
and that niggaa goes both ways kidd, girls and guys, girls and guys…
that bandana is a retard tourniquet set to strangle…you heard of the bloods, you heard of the Crips…you ever heard of the Unisex Yaz Danglers?
– Sac
—–
I have no idea what that email just said, am not at all a fan of the word “nigga,” but it reads like a brilliant tone poem, and I must give props to anyone who comes up with the phrase “drops Sergio Valente style in people’s assholes.”
