Support HCwD
Well folks, it’s time for the DB1 to come hat in hand to my fellow hotties, ‘bags and ‘bag hunters and ask for a donation.
If you’ve been enjoying the God’s Work we do here exposing the unholy douchitude of total scrotes and the hotties who love them, now’s the time to cough up some cash, moolah, dough and help support the site and buy douchebag1 a bottle of Night Train or two.
Kickin’ my lazy sorry ass a ten or a twenty would go a long ways to keeping this site ad-free. So lets keep those HCwD combo pics flowing that make all of our days a little more enjoyable when we get to rank on the scrote.
So if you’re a long time fan or just a recent visitor and have enjoyed the site and had a good laugh, don’t be a cheap-ass scrote like Glinty or White Chocolate. Cough up some coin so we can keep this site going strong, ad free, and fully hot chicked and douchebagged out. Here’s the PayPal donate button.
Anderson and HorseChin
Not sure who this horse chinned douchebag following Pam Anderson is, and while I don’t normally post celeb HCwDs, this one was too good to pass up. This scrote is actually making ‘Bag Hand Gesture #76 without apparently realizing it. I could land a MiG on that jaw line.
Mmm… I’d like to put her in my marriage sack.
Thanks to The Superficial for unwittingly let me use this pic. No thanks to Kid Rock for soiling the once hot PaMELa with his demon seed.
Baby Shake and the Deep Sea Pube
PIC DELETED
I’ve never been quite clear on why balding men think growing facial pubes will somehow balance the hair equation. There is, however, a unique way to distract from one’s baldness.
Wear snorkeling goggles.
And a gas station attendant hipster shirt.
In a club. With a girl who has “Baby Shake” written across her rack.
This pic doesn’t make sense on any level. Add some ants crawling up his nose and it’s a lesser known Dali.
Wisdom of the Bhagavad-Gita
If the radiance of a thousand suns
Were to burst at once into the sky,
That would be like the splendor of the Mighty Scrote…
I am become Douche,
The shatterer of Worlds.
–The Bhagavad-Gita
(Yes, that’s Socrates Douche)
HCwD of the Week: Socrates Douche
In a stunning shocker upset and thanks to a late surge of spewing in his direction, Socrates Douche suprised White Chocolate for a solid win and entry into next month’s HCwD of the Month. It’s gonna be fun seeing this oily scrote go up against Pat. As born to be bag puts it:
The name Socrates used to make me think of higher learning and togas and all things good in the universe……. Now it makes me think of a sweaty ballsack. I have a strong feeling that Justin Timberdouche here just got done wooing these hotties with his moves on the dance floor. Nothing worse than oily Jesus bling flying around while a scrote does the running man.
The win goes to #3.
Another vote for #3 comes from Art of the Douche:
The tinted shades, the gelled/spiked hair, the black wifebeater, the bling, the oil (dear lord, the oil) and the poorly executed orange tan — pure scrote brilliance. He doesn’t at all seem to care that he has cultivated a look that makes him resemble a butchier Rosie O’Donnell after gastric bypass surgery.
Ouch. Going for the Rosie O’Donnell smackdown. And as lower case bag sums it up:
BUT – WOW – Socrates douche has enough grease to reflect light – EVEN ON HIS CHEEKS.
that says it all.
Indeed it does, lcb. Indeed it does.
However White Chocolate’s unholy douchitude will live on in many hearts for his overwhelming douchosity. As the ever-present anonymous put it:
its #1 without a douching doubt. metal-mouth gives me nightmares on so many levels it should be illegal. that slime face. the trophy on his teeth. the 17 pound bling in the ear. the matching 10 degree douche-inspiring matching blue hat. the Yankees suck by the way.
and the topper. those perky two actually touching his white collared, bleeth-opening chest. i actually cant keep talking.. i think im giving myself diarrhea im so upset.
While many disqualified Test Pattern ‘Bag for the obvious paid state of his hottie, not everyone ruled that as a disqualifier for HCwDotW status. Seemingly distracted by the intoxicating derriere in #2, dooouche_head explains why:
My vote this week if for #2, “Test Pattern Putz”. The smug look on his face and the fact that he’s all over the sweet ass on that cute little chicka makes me want to roll over and die, after I kick his ass from here to Timbuktu!
Me too, brotha. Me too.
So lets applaud the Socratic debate that elevates S.D. into next month’s face-off. Great comments as always. I think we’ve all earned a chocodile for our work. I know I have. Mmm… chocodiles. Like twinkies, only with chocolate on them…
Tux Scrote
This one hurts. This one took me down.
I was staggering around, bloodied but unbowed. Sexy Librarian being pawed by Barbarino ‘Bag had knocked me around, but I was still on my feet.
Herpes Soup was like an upper-cut to the jaw but I didn’t go down.
Bloom ‘Bag knocked me against the ropes, but I fought on.
But Franco ‘Bag is too much. Tux Scrote pawing this sexy, curvy ball of sunshine while making that douche smirk, and I’m flat on the canvas wondering where my mouthpiece went.
Not even a cup of ‘Train can cure this one. This one’s too much for my fragile psyche to absorb.
Nope, it’s time to break out the hard stuff to cure this infection of HCwD madness.
Yup, it’s time for HoHo pudding.
Bloom 'Bag and the Striped Raven
This pic doesn’t just make me angry. It makes me a nihilist. I no longer believe in anything. I want to kidnap Bunny Lebowski with Carl Hungus. Orlando Bloom’Bag saps my spirit and crushes my soul. He is all that is stubbly wrong with douchebaggery. His uber-luscious stripey haired hottie just cinches the Godless universe we inhabit.
I have two choices. I can explore my new found nihilist crisis by flying to Bangladesh and torturing orphans. Or I can have a bowl of Lucky Charms.
Hmm. Torturing orphans would force me to confront the darkest parts of my soul. But Lucky Charms are magically delicious.
It is a tough choice.
Oh Sweet Blondie
What force pulled you into an embrace with pretty boy two-toned douche? What evil curse cast by a witchbag’s spell sent you into the arms of this greasy model wannabe in the heart of Vegas?
It tasks me, I tell you. It tasks me.
Nice rock-n-roll t-shirt, pudwacker. At least you’re saving money on hair gel these days.
N 'Bags
I gotta give major props to this group of fellow ‘bag hunters, fans of the site, who sent in this pic toasting our ‘bag/hottie journey with bottles of Night Train and a classic red cup.
I’m pleased to see my contributions to the next generation of college students has paid off in valuable ways.
Gentlemen, or Gentlebags as the case may be, I toast my cup of ‘Train back atcha.
Now get a damn hottie into that pic, stat.
