Gatorade Sunday
There are many pretenders to the hottie/douchey throne.
There is only one Gator.
Reader Mail: A Gator Tag In Person
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DB1-
So I’m a huge fan of h.c.w.d.b.’s. Recently, I was out in Hollywood and I thought I recognized this man as some reality celeb, although I couldn’t put a finger on who exactly he was…. Lo and behold, it was clear to me…. this was “Gator”. So I rushed over and made a friend take a pic- It was actually better than any kind of celebrity sighting. Even if you don’t run it, I thought you might appreciate the sighting.
: ) Taylor
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This pic has it all, Taylor. A Gator Disciple, complete with chest shave reveal. A hidden hott, being ignored by both douches more interested in fondling each other.
And of course, The Gator. In both corporeal and spectral presence.
Making hand gesture, monotone face and with a wristwatch the size of a small Bangledeshi boy. Excellent work, Taylor. You deserve a +1 ‘Bag Tagging award.
It’s like seeing the Pope in person.
The Pope of Poo.
Friday Thoughts and Links
Your humble narrator is still in a bit of a haze.
Between the loss of John Hughes, the bizarro week of car-crashery for me, the extended afterglow of Monday’s epic HCwDB of the Week, I’m abuzz and atwitter.
Despite a week of personal injury, I am on the mend. The genius of the regs in the comments threads, as well as the daily emails of hottie/douchey pic submissions, kept me going and powered me through.
Thanks to everyone who has emailed the DB1, either to wish me recovery or simply to send in a pic for my consideration of mock. If I did not write back, I blame the power of the Smoot + Crystal unholy wrongness. It’s enough to slaughter puppies.
Here’s your Friday Links:
Mmmm… sexy Texas librarians. Sadly, this is one where the idea was far better than the execution. Yeesh. Better stick to my librarian fantasies and skip the real thing.
A RIP to the late, great Budd Schulberg, who passed away this week at the age of 95. Author of the brilliant What Makes Sammy Run?, one of the books that got me through high school, as well as movies like On the Waterfront, Schulberg is one of the greats. RIP.
Ladies, I’m all for you ditching your douchey husbands, but this might be a bit much.
While the song itself is kind of annoying, I heartily approve of its message: F@ck Ed Hardy.
Yet Ed Hardy is now branding underwear. We’re losing, people. We must keep mocking.
Supercool Winkytool. “Binky lieber meine winky”? Who knew Germans could be so funny? You know who didn’t know that Germans could be so funny? All of Europe.
Reader Eliza creates some hilarious fan art inspired by HCwDB: Douche Bugz. Nicely done, Eliza!
Speaking of Germany, how about some tasty Bavarian Ass Pear.
And if that’s not enough of a meal, here’s some Ass Pear Salad. You’ve earned it.
To get you through your Friday.
Schmuckhead Says "Check my groin!"
There’s forehead shine. There’s massive forehead shine. And then there’s Schmuckhead.
There’s Ass Pear. There’s curvy Ass Pear. And then there’s Claudina Ass Pear.
Someone’s making a push for the Weekly.
And by push, I mean female butt loaves of half baked glute bread. I would gnaw. Oh yes. I would gnaw heartily and with great respect.
Schmuckhead Says “Check my groin!”
There’s forehead shine. There’s massive forehead shine. And then there’s Schmuckhead.
There’s Ass Pear. There’s curvy Ass Pear. And then there’s Claudina Ass Pear.
Someone’s making a push for the Weekly.
And by push, I mean female butt loaves of half baked glute bread. I would gnaw. Oh yes. I would gnaw heartily and with great respect.
Ask DB1: Douchiest Car?
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Dear DB1,
Can we know a douche just by his choice of vehicle?
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I’ve often felt that cars, as gaudy as some can get, are not strictly douchey based on make and model. Then again, cars like the Jeep Wrangler are pretty hard to excuse. What say you? Is there a car that rises (sinks) above all else to be called the douchomobile?
I’d argue that the main determinant is not the car, but the rims, bling and other assorted adouchetributes.
Blinged out rims? = autodouche.
Fancy “party lights” inside? = uberscrote.
And the air fresheners.
Find one in every car. You’ll see.
Friday Haiku II
That last Haiku pic,
Wasn’t the best for poems,
DB1 still recovering.
So here’s Farmer Ted,
Puking on Cindy the Hott,
80s John Hughes douche.
Jay Chandrasekhar,
Let go of that fair maiden.
Club Dredd not funny.
— End the Haberdouchery
Sancho Panza? Or
was it Pancho Villa? Or
was it Ass Stain Jones?
— I drink your doucheshake
“Smell my tongue, see if
you can guess what I ate last.”
*sniff* “I’ll go with Ass.”
— Captain Bringdown
gaucho con guapa
necesito los tatas
dame la blanca
— g0dluvsugly
he valet parked his
burro at the club, and tipped
the man with pesos.
— pfah
Friday Haiku
Librarian Hott,
spanks me with dewey dec’mal.
Gack!! Run Douche M.C.
Underground rapper
Lice T celebrates minor
Hit band Body Mount.
— Crucial Head
Some things make me happy
Librarian Hotts is one
Douche kills the boner
— Roscoe P. Scrotestain
Slim beatnick poet
Looks away; utter disgust
with slime-draped hottie.
— Douche Wayne
Michael Bay remakes
“Sixteen Candles” with new cast
Choice of male lead? Poor.
— Mr. White
RIP John Hughes
We interrupt our daily HCwDB mocking to bring some sad and tragic news. John Hughes died today of a heart attack at the age of 59.
The director of the preeminent films of my childhood in the 80s, John Hughes was an inordinate influence on my life as a kid.
RIP, J.H. You will be missed.
EDIT: Anonymous in the threads correctly observes that Ian and Max from Weird Science were classic proto-douches.
