Angel of Purgatory
Purg Hottie says, “You there! Don’t forget to vote in the HCwDB of the Month contest!” Or at least that’s what I’m saying.
I would love her tiny succubus inner neck like a touchy-feely yoga instructor.
She is my Angel of Choadbaggery.
As to the rest of you, votes are still open. Scroll down and cast your vote in the Monthly.
The Gator
Since we’re going with an orange theme today, meet The Gator.
Orange like Gatorade.
Skin leathery like an alligator.
The Gator’s shiny schlong-n-balls mark of the ‘bag on his forehead confirms what should already be patently obvious.
We are in the presence of uber-douche.
The Gator has no need for hand gestures or bling. No 10 Degree Hat Tilt. No popped collar.
He is a tidal wave of sheer douche psyche. His eyes summon the spirits of global choadbaggery. His greased Khan-like chest overacts like a douched out Shatner.
Behold! The power of scrote.
MILF may or may not be preggers, which makes it awkward for me to suggest my desire to dry hump her feather duster she bought on the Home Shopping Network with three easy payments of $19.95.
Goallllllllllllllllll!!!!!
That’s it.
If fusball playing Bratwurst toads like Pepe here can score four Eurohotties, then I’m moving to Bulgaria and cashing in my chips.
And by chips I mean running up my credit cards until Interpol arrests my ass and deports me.
The Fauxhawk Fwip
Facial scruff + fwippy fauxhawk + Bono sunglasses are enough to make me sucker punch an alley cat in the testes.
I do love Scandinavian Marsha Brady twins though. If only for the combinations and permutations in my sick and perverted mind.
Speaking of Euroasafrica, I don’t know what language this is in, but HCwDB is getting a ton of traffic and discussion over the past few days from this site.
They sure do speak funny out in non-Americaland, don’t they?
The Spinning Jenny
In 1733 John Kay invented the Flying Shuttle. It revolutionized cloth and garment production and launched the industrial revolution.
I know this because it was on my 7th Grade history exam.
Now, 274 years later, giant douche-ass mandanas are plentiful and culturally ubiquitous.
I blame you, John Kay. Cursed be your ancestors.
Busty Blue Spinning Jenny is everything I want and dream of in an approachable bar maiden hottie. They had them in the 1730s, serving up Ale. And we have them today, serving up Ale.
God bless the Bar Maidens. Every time one boozes it up in a low cut blue bustier, an angel gets its wings.
Labor Day HCwDB of the Month
Last month it was “Hall of Scrote” enshrined winner, The Trainwreck, that Salvador Dali inspired piece of photographic dada art.
This month? Well, that’s up to you.
On this muggy, hot-ass Labor Day, the DB1 meditates over iced tea, and presents for you the four weekly winners for your selection and codification.
Four digital examples of a culture gone ‘bag. Four visual servings of poo/hott that can make you feel simultaneously aroused and itchily vomitorious.
But I ramble. Because my shirt smells like cat puke. That’s what I get for Karaoke last night. So, without further ado, I give you Lord and Lady Douchebags:
HCwDB of the Month Finalist #1: The Greasers
Amateur puds? Wannabe scroads? Perhaps.
But however you slice it, these two product enhanced sweatballs are worthy contenders.
For not only have they corralled a Eurohottie displaying the perfect serving of side-boob, but they’re flying standard ‘bag sandwich formation with extra-tight dual headbutt.
Toss in the purple silk tie, the thumb ring, and the Peaches Point maneuver, and it’s a quality smorgasboard of scrotum salad.
She’s a lovely mamita.
They’re two sweaty balls of sockdouchery.
Our first entry in the Monthly is a good one. And by good, I mean Labor Day ‘baggin’.
HCwDB of the Month Finalist #2: The Crustacean
Seafood Tomdouchery tends to go a long way on the site.
There’s something about a Miami toolbox imitating a seafaring creature that inspires that extra fifth-gear level of rage.
The Crustacean challenges The Ab Lobster by busting one of the most obnoxious douchebaggy maneuvers in ‘bag history.
Pointing. At. His. Abs.
Although the Crustacean needs a perfect Fruit Stripe Hottie to do the pointing for him.
Factor in the puma wristband, the crypto-gay “Goose in Top Gun” sunglasses, and a lineup of four absolutely mouth watering Starburst Fruit Chews (and their friend), and it’s a tremendous pic.
Tremendous.
As right now the affect the blond in white and mini-jeans on the left is having on my division sign is impressive. I love her. I propose. I would carry her children to term, then ignore them while blowing my welfare checks on crack and keno.
HCwDB of the Month Finalist #3: The Choadmonster
Ask not for whom the douche-face tolls.
It tolls for thee.
On the punchability factor, there really isn’t much more that can be said about Choady McMonster here.
You want to hit in the face with a sock filled with rotting salmon.
I want to him in the face with a sock filled with rotting salmon.
So there’s that.
His hairy marblized arm looks less real than a carving by Michelangelo. So there’s that, too.
Tiny Dancer Hottie in the middle has a delightful Minnesotan smile. The image of Choadmonster attacking is like a still from a 50s horror film starring Beverly Garland.
HCwDB of the Month Finalist #4: Memphis Choad
In terms of isolating the contaminant that is “The Game” losers, teaching men to dandy themselves up like an Emo Oscar Wilde, Memphis Choad is a great example.
Doing magic tricks and dressing like a freak to get laid has to be one of the more punchable strains of the modern ‘bag.
Instead of popped collars and 10 Degree Hat tilts, we have country hats and eyeliner.
And then there’s Asian perfection, who looks sweet and exotic and delightfully “Othered” by a society steeped in what cultural studies scholar Edward Said critiques as the sexualized imperalism of Westernized “Orientalism.”
Or what I like to term “Asian Hottie Booblust.”
So them’s your four, people.
Since it’s Labor Day and most people are getting drunk and eating hot dogs, I will leave voting up through Wednesday.
But get yer votes in. This is important stuff. If we don’t crown a hottie/douchey winner, then who will? You? You Lieutenant Weinberg?
Vote, as always, with a Peaches Point in the comments thread.
Purg Hottie's Quest
A lazy Sunday, and the DB1’s thoughts drift to his future second ex-wife, the girth of his loins, the prickle of his breyer patch.
Yes I speak of the legendary Purgatory Hottie. That tragic sexy cutie of perfect backside and mouth watering cleavite, caught between heaven/hell in an endless loop of ‘bag repetition as seen here, here, here, here, and here.
Yet Purg Hottie remains pure. She remains lovely.
And, tragically, as pictured today, remains in perpetual cycle with the douchewank. Here, passed out shirtless in a limo. While Purg Hottie remains unperturbed.
It’s sort of amazing how she remains unaffected by all the douchescrotery in her presence. Maybe she’s got douche anti-bodies or something.
I mourn for Purg Hottie’s lousy-ass choices of lousy ass. And I long to fondle her inner thighs with chicken grease.
But another Purg Hottie pic is certaintly enough to get me through a Sunday. I may have to give her an honorary place in the Hall of Scrote, simply for the effect on my nethers.
Labor Day Doggie 'Baggin'
Come on people, get in the Labor Day party spirit!!
Lets hear it for pasty mutant Stay Puft dough-boys from the Planet Genderambiguous busting Doggie ‘Bag moves on tasty Spanish cookies.
If this pic don’t say Labor Day at HCwDB, then I don’t know what does.
But I do know that firm b-cups make Tiny Tim walk again.
Douchescrote Saturday
Perfect boobies and a rank douchescrote sniffing his own finger.
Good thing it’s a three day weekend.
