The King of Comedy
Oh King Douchuous the IV, you wacky situation comedy TV star. Cuddling the blond and making the ‘bag hand gesture? It’s like packaged uproarious mirth in the 8:30 slot on the Wednesday block on Fox 5.
How many more hijinks accompanied by canned laugh-track could you possibly get into? The situations are endless. Even juggled in syndication and aired out of order.
Because the order of broadcast may change, King D.
But the hilarity remains. And so do the boobies.
Because it’s Sunday. The DB1 badly needs a shower. And consistent scrotes like King D reassure us all that, like death and taxes, douchebaggery is always out there. Ready to be mocked. And to get us ready for tomorrow’s HCwDB of the Month.
POP!
PIC DELETED
Douche-turkey’s done.
Now extract the Jersey Cute and boil at 180 degrees until grease and choad separate.
Douche or Dali?
Okay kids, time for another round of “Douche or Dali.”
Is this pic an actual real world photograph of two greased up beef jerky Jerseybags and an enhanced, vaguely lobotomized hottie?
Or is this an abstract painting by noted Spanish artist Salvador Dali during his “Scrote Period?”
You make the call.
The Gaze of the Happy Pants
This legally blind Stanford math major probably isn’t a ‘bag on any level whatsoever (save the lip ring), and so you’re probably thinking to yourself, “Yo, DB1! Your site says ‘Hot Chicks with Douchebags,’ and last time I checked, Asian nerds were not douchebags!”
And you’d be correct.
But this uberhott Kirsten Dunst nymph demonstrates a crucial representation of gender tropes that we must embrace and celebrate.
The female gaze of pure carnal desire.
Note to all hotties reading this. Please gaze like this at me at all times. It is what Trappist Monks refer to as The Gaze of the Happy Pants. And they know what they speak of. Because hey, they’re Trappist Monks.
And ditch the math major, Kirsten Hott. Sure he’ll be making six figures at Google after graduating, but I have a half full bottle of Night Train. Which I’ll share with you. Just not too much.
Ask DB1
Confused in Cali writes in:
—–
Dear DB1:
Do you know if there has been any research done to show whether a douchebag actually knows he is a ‘bag? I have heard it said that if you think you are crazy you are actually sane, so how does that apply to douchebags? And secondly, do the hot chicks that are with ‘bags know that they are with a ‘bag?
Sincerely,
Confused in Cali
—–
It is safe to say that cognitive functions among the higher level douchescrotes operate at only a base and primitive instinctual reaction state. Like a goldfish. A retarded goldfish. Named Lenny.
However there is always the potential for douche awakenings, like in that movie with DeNiro in the coma. Unfortunately it requires the participation of the Hottie in the recovery process. The twelve steps of de-douchification that a hottie/douchey couple can participate in will be detailed in my forthcoming book from Simon & Schuster in May. And yes, that’s another shameless plug.
I will now eat a bowl of Cocoa Puffs.
The Lost Arquette
Scrotey Arquette has found love. Which is hard, what with coming from a famous showbiz family.
Good on you, Scrotey. I knew that David wasn’t the only one to forge a career and get a hot wife utilizing talent enough to fill the thimble piece in the Monopoly boardgame.
Do not pass go.
Her back is arched beyond human possibility. It is otherworldly. It bespeaks a cosmos of endless possibility, of strange planets with new life forms. You know. Amazon Women on The Moon. With curvy backs. And Scrotey Arquette.
On second thought, I’ll stay home.
Who me?
Are you a douche? I dunno. No real signs. Could just be an average dude from Ozone Park, Queens.
And yet… and yet… there it is.
The Mark of the ‘Bag.
Ever so faint. On the forehead. So I’m sorry dude, but I gotta call ‘bag. It’s not me. It’s the Mark. I gotta listen to the Last Angel of Scrotery, just as the great philosopher Walter Benjamin warned us about.
Green Energy powers my Prius.
Friday Haiku
Posed pic? Maybe so,
But yank that Jesus, Scarlett.
He died for those abs.
Magazine shot? Yes.
Does that bother me? No way.
Red skirt? Delicious.
— boatbutter
Ghetto doucheulous
Guyliner AND plat knuckles
Are those Jeans acidwashed?
— eric estradouche
Anorexia
Not pretty picture on most
Red fine lines it well
— huskerbag
And on the sixth day,
God made man, not knowing that
man evolves to Douche.
— bcs
Satan is puking
For he’s fully aware that
douchebags go to hell
— plinky
Red hot lace-y thing
I would kill Jesus again
Want to lick the curves
— daric fn awesome
Cash Gordon
New addendum to douchological classification, #81:
Anyone who writes in a smiley face on their “My Name Is” tag is immediately classified as auto-scrote.
Granted, Cash Gordon’s crinkly retro sci-fi outfit, his key bling and his kissy lips don’t really need any additional evidence of douche.
But the smiley face? Not cool, Chad.
But your older sis has the touch of everyday librarian hott that me likey long time.
The Charity Newspaper Smack
If I offered the chance to smack this wonderbread with a soggy newspaper dipped in iocane powder for $10 dollars a whack, how much could I raise for the Jimmy Fund?
I’m thinking thousands.
Bonus points if you hit the Calvins.
