Dancing Socrates?
Is that the legendary grease-head, Socrates, dancing in the “Douche is in the Heart” pic? Doc seems to think so. I’m not sure, but it could very well be.
Chaser
And here’s one more chaser pic in the afterglow of the HCwDotY. Nothing too amazing about this pic other than the fact this bulky chinbag’s forehead is apparently the size of Trenton.
And that cleavite. That oh so fantastic cleavite. I would live in the jungles of Antwerp subsisting on rice cakes and grasshoppers just to juggle her socks for an hour outside the Tastee-Freeze.
Douche is in the Heart
While we’re all celebrating Glinty’s win, lets get down to the early 90s club hit by Deeeee-Scrote, “Douche is in the heart.”
The puke that you
send up my throat
Keep me filled with
Satisfaction when we’re done
Satisfaction of what’s to come
(I) I couldn’t ask for a douchebag
No I couldn’t ask for a douchebag,
Your bling I do deeply dig
No walls only the wigg(a)
My scrotey bitch, my succotash wish
(Sing it baby)
(I) I couldn’t ask for a douchebag,
(Uh-huh uh-huh)
(I-I-I-I-I I)
No I couldn’t ask for a douchebag,
Douche is in the heart
Ah-ah-ah-ah
Douche is in the heart
Ah-ah-ah-ah
Douche is in the heart
Douche is in the heartttt,
Ah-ah-ah
The depth the forehead grease,
Move us to the nth release,
We goin’ through to Jersey,
Hears a who-ooh
(I) I couldn’t ask for a douchebag
(I-I-I-I-I I)
No couldn’t ask for a douchebag,
DJ Scrote (scrote) popped a collar,
I’ve been told the douchebag hollars,
He’s not vicious or malicious
Just de-lovely and a total and complete ball of f-ing scrote,
No (I) I couldn’t ask for a douchebag,
(Sing it)
Douche is in the heart
Ah-ah-ah-ah
(Ne-na-na-na-na)
Douche is in the heart
(Ne-na-na-na-na)
Douche is in the heart
(Ne-na-na-na-na)
Douche is in the heart-ah-ah-ah
Douche is in the heart
Ah-ah-ah-ah (yeah)
Douche is in the heart
Ah-ah-ah
Douche is in the heart
Douche is in the heart
Ah-ah-ah
HCwD of the Year: Glinty
In the end it was fairly close, but Glinty pulled it out like the champion West Coast greaseball he is. Although Socratic Douche did put up a tough fight to come in second, with Dung Beetle still receiving enough votes to finish a solid third.
But the overwhelming grease/hot combo of Glinty remains a fan fave. There were just too many attributes for Glinty to be denied. The bling. The shirt with the stupid douche “humor” partially blocked by a gorgeous, exposed beauty. However, the greased up forehead and chin pubes are what I think carried him through the finals to a convincing victory for the coveted first annual HCwDotY Award.
I’d inform Glinty himself, but I’m not sure he’s actually human. Staring at this pic makes me think he might be like Orange ‘Bag, an apparition or a shell that you simply move into a storage bin when the clubs close.
So lets all clink our bling and give HCwD props to Glinty for beating out the rest and taking the coveted top spot. He is “Classic HCwD” on so many levels. He is archetype. While there are more gut wrenching douchebag freaks and sexy-ass hotties from the past year (I’m still recovering from the perfection of Barbarino ‘Bag’s hottie), there is no doubt that this pic contains too many douchey/hottie qualities to ignore its greatness.
As Mitch Meats breaks it down for us:
Winner and still champeen: Gliny Blinglescrote, I want to douse your soul patch in turpentine then immolate your @#$@ing oily head. I want to draw and quarter your nutsack with very powerful and slow moving tortoises. I want to put you in a blender, make a dirty douchetini, and throw you off the Statue of Liberty. There are so many thousands of ways that I can imagine killing you this morning. For that, and the combined strength of your über-delicious rays of sunshine, you completely deserve the title of Douchebag of the Year. Now get the @#$@ out of my sight.
Well said, M.M. And nice job finding the umlout key. I still haven’t been able to crack that Germanic nut.
I’m also pleased to see i bling key in on an important ‘bag factor that we sometimes overlook — the attitude problem. There’s no doubt that Dung Beetle’s sneer (and his hottie’s perfection) are the reasons he’s made it this far in the first place.
But the sneering Dung Beetle has the crucial douchebag arrogance that raises him above the other two. He’s wearing all black, has the stupid sunglasses indoors and a death grip on his hottie. He’s mocking us in this photo, knowing we will likely never have the opportunity to give him the throat-punch he so richly deserves.
Nice work, I.B. Another interesting hypothetical is brought to us by Douche, PhB(ag), who ruminates on the differences between genetic douchosity and douche-as-persona:
A philosophical question. What is more douche? To be as one is, like a shiny mountain, Phidias’ Zeus in silver track pants, an eternal Jersey guido douchebag? Or to change with the seasons, shedding the glinty belt buckle and fake tan like a diseased maple dropping its wormy rotting leaves only to blossom into a new and more horrible form the coming spring?
I believe the latter is more reprehensible. Vote Glinty, as I do.
Pandora brings an important female perspective as she uses the “least likely to touch” barometer to make her vote before casting in with S.D.:
Needless to say, all three douches here are very HCwDBofY worthy … yet the one I would be most unwilling to let touch me is the Socratic Douche. Not only does he look like he just rolled out of a tanning booth and into a lard bath, he is wearing the classic douche tank top and bling. While not sporting the grillz of White Chocolate, I bet he’s saving up his money from his full time job at Burger King to buy a pair. I would like to buy lighters for each of his blondes so that they may be able to burn the layer of skin off that touched him.
Nicely reasoned, Pandora. In fact there was some excellent work done by all the ‘bags, ‘bag slayers and hotties in the comments thread including an excellent poem by Undouchesided, I refer all to the comments thread for a more detailed analytical deduction of some of the larger moral, intellectual, philosophical, ethical and puke/boner factors that we’re exploring.
Great work all, lets tip our red cups of Night Train to Glinty. For he and his hotties personify all that is uber hottie/scrote in today’s douchey world. All that makes us hopeful, and all that makes us want to kill ourselves with an ice-pick through the eye.
HCwDotY Voting Still Open
HCwD of the Year voting is still open, mainly because I’m a lazy git who hasn’t tallyed up the votes yet. However the actual entry dropped off the main page so you can access it By clicking here.
As always, make sure to only vote once, explain your reasons for voting, and remember to factor in BOTH hottie hotness and douchebag douchebagginess for the total effect of each pic.
I’ll post the results tomorrow, and then we’re on to the end of the year Douchie awards. And to the Big Red fans out there, don’t you worry your heads, B.R. will get a Douchie too. Can’t forget the Big Red.
Enter the Douchebag
Let there be no confusion. Douche Lee is not “man” nor “woman.” Douche Lee has no time for such petty categorizations and spiritually vapid gender classifications.
Douche Lee is a higher level of spirit. A far more expansive plateau of existence. He has no time for your attempts to classify him. He is both chick and douche, male and female, in one Yin/Yang corporeal body of earthly manifestation.
Do not doubt the Douche Lee. For he will only grow douchier.
Instead let us all bow to the gender confusing Pat-level Zen Master. Like an apparition he graces our site in brief pixelated form, only to move on to corral hotties with his mystifying douche powers forever more.
Lets us take a moment to nod our collective heads and honor Douche Lee for his brief appearance in our lives. He has touched all of us. Perhaps in inappropriate ways. But his legend has only grown. And like all douche legends, we will sing songs to his memory around the campfire for many a moon. Many a lonely Douche Lee moon.
Douche Lee
There is a legend that even the boldest and most experienced ‘bag hunters whisper about with fear and awe. A ‘bag whose existence itself is more rumor and myth then fact. A famous Zen Douchebag who legend has it has wandered the ancient sprawling hills of mainland China for eons. A zen ‘bag master who goes simply by the name, “Douche Lee.”
But now, for the first time, a reader believes he’s snapped actual photographic evidence of this all powerful ‘Bag Master in action.
Here is what appears to be the legendary Douche Lee caught in full on mystical douche action. He may be hard to see in the pic (he’s in the back center), but like with The Loch Ness Monster or BigFoot, the elusive Douche Lee can not be easily captured nor observed working his douchey magic.
(click on pic for a closer examination of this startling discovery)
Note the ‘bag master shirt, bizarre glasses and rare cigarette ‘bag hand gesture #105 (a move only a stage-4 ‘bag master can attain). Observe the ring of hotties worshipping in the presence of this skinny hip-hop Asian wigga. I don’t know about you, but I’m convinced. Here, for the first time, we have actual evidence of uber-douchosity of the one and only Douche Lee.
He is real. Oh yes. He is real.
Jim the Coffee Scrote
We haven’t had a lot of Office ‘bags on the site, those everyday scrotes who make all the women in the office feel uncomfortable and then bust out the douchebag moves at the office holiday party or when out drinking.
Office ‘bags, like Jim the Coffee Scrote here, are stage-1 ‘bags, basically on the level of a tonguebag or awkward nerdbag. Like the many high school ‘baglings we’ve seen, office ‘bags aren’t remotely on the greased up shiny forehead and excessive bling level yet. But they want to be. Just like Jim here.
As to the lineup of barely 18 hotties, I will simply thank God for miniskirts and call it a day.
Red Tie
Here’s another light HCwD snack while we digest the HCwD of the Year and figure out the how to break down the Douchie Awards by category. As to Electic Hair Orchestra here, I loved guitar heavy mod rock as much as the next guy, but man, ditch the red silk tie before I set your face on fire. Back in the early 90s during the Ian Ziering “Red Tie” period (1990-1992) it would’ve made you douchebag. Today it’s like entering the hyper-scrote zone. The hottie appears to be 17-ish, so I will simply admire that artwork on the wall. That is fine, fine artwork.
I’m thinking I’ll set up a few select Douchie Award votes for the major categories, and then I’ll give out a few more to my favorites over the past year as sort of an Oscar parallel “Irving G. Doucheberg Award.” Ya know, those honorary lifetime achievement kinda things where old people get to pretend they’re still relevant.
Man oh man, so much hottie/scrote to go through, so little time. They almost all deserve an award (and by award I mean “spew”).
Fishhead
I can’t tell what’s driving me to distraction more, the fantastic dual cleavite on display or seeing Tarantino ‘Bag’s creepyass hand gripping the sultry diamond on the right’s arm. Fishhead needs to be wrapped up in yesterday’s newspaper and put in a freezer somewhere. That chin alone deserves a Douchie Award.
Although now that I think about it, ChinBags may be one of the most competitive Douchie categories we have. There have to have been at least thirty or thirty five douche chins in the past few months alone.
