HCwD Rallying Cry
You.
Yes you.
The guy reading HCwD right now in his cubicle.
Don’t look around, I’m talking to you.
Look at this pic to the left here. Look at this greasy gasface. He’s not better than you. Yet look what he’s embracing while you type in data-entry info on your lousy ass temp job.
You gonna take it? You gonna let this Eastern European looking chin fungus embrace a blonde piece of heaven while you sit and stare at a flickering monitor and wonder how long until you can get up again and wander into the office kitchen so you can check out Susan, the minimally attractive legal assistant in the cubicle near the men’s bathroom?
You just going to sit there and let this pic exist in digital reality without any form of retribution? What kind of a man are you, office boy? Get out there and do some damage! The hotties are being swarmed by scrote as we speak, and you just sit there?
It’s Friday Night. The ‘bags are out in force. The hotties are being covered with the odor of Axe Bodyspray grease and unbuttoned shirt douche virus as we speak. What are you gonna do about it?
