Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

'Bag / Not a 'Bag

We haven’t had a ‘Bag / Not a ‘Bag discussion in awhile, so I think it’s time we parse this choadwannabe. And with the unprecedented run of hilarious comments threads lately, I’m expecting detailed dissection of all nuances of the hottie/douchey spectrum.

Again, keep in mind that performative douchebaggery echoes the authentic by creating privileged meaning just as the simulacrum replaces what we think of as “the real.”

Does an ironic Douche Gnome qualify for authentic douchebaggery by affecting the performative tropes of the true douche?

Can the performative simulation of douchebaggery create authentic rage within the viewing of a single hottie/douchey image? And can we measure authentic rage using aesthetic measurements or is it simply psychoanalytic affect?

Is the Hottie lost to the dark roads of JoeyPorche level waxed eyebrows and douchosity, ya digggggggg? Or does she hold a glimmer of redeemability?

And why, even facing a hottie that Bleethed out, does the DB1 stil want to twirl her bobby socks with his teeth while playing the drum rhythm from John Bonham’s 1976 Bonzo’s Montreux on her caboose?

The Retarded Shock

I have a hand. Two of them in fact.

I’ve been using my hands with at least a basic level of coherence since I was about six months old, give or take a few weeks.

I know how to make “The Shocker.” It isn’t hard. I’d say you could teach it to a three year old.

So what is up with all the retarded Shockers of late? Has Beefy McGabana been given even a basic intro to female anatomy?

Oh right. Just look at him.

Keep imagining it, Beefy. Someday it might happen.

BritBags

This looks like the cast of the BBC’s latest miniseries, The Douchebags in Winter. I don’t know whether to hose them down with a firehose or order up some meat pies and kidney pudding, guv’nah.

Oi! Piss off, ya bleedin’ tossers!!

I would, however, Big Ben her parliament, Dickens style. Meaning she would ask me, “Please sir, can I have some more?” You know. Like Charles Dickens’s Oliver Twist. Because I have to explain all my jokes like that.

Billy JoelBag

Cuz sooner or later it comes down to fate. You might as well be a scrote… Darling, only the dumb date choates.

Bah, be bah bah, that’s what I said. Bah, be bah bah bah bah.

Lord Stanley

To honor my neighbors in the Inland Empire for their local team’s triumphant victory yesterday in their contest to hit a small piece of black rubber around a block of ice, I give them Lord Stanley.

However, I’m not sure you’d want to hoist his cup.

As to sultry Jesus Blinged Golden Globed perfection, I would play ping pong dressed as Gumby while spinning tassels with my scrotae just for a 1 in 10 chance to dry clean her winter coats.

D.A.T.

Take the Douche Aptitude Test sample question:

Jersey is to choad as:

a) Boobs are to Cleavite

b) Semiotics is to Post-Structuralism

c) waxed eyebrows are to spiked hair

d) Taxi Dresses are to Bleeth

The Wily Tigershark

Looks like a wily tigershark did, in fact, come along to take out the Head Assplosion crowd we featured yesterday.

Ah, were it only to be true…

Nice work once again to resident HCwDB photoshop artisan pfah building off an idea by Mistress Julie (edit: and BMT) in the comments thread.

And if you’re curious to hear your humble narrator interviewed on all things sexy/scrotey on a classic rock station in Missouri, check it out.

Ned

Mirror mirror, on the head. Who’s the douchiest dude named Ned?

Okay, I have no clue if this highly buffed, waxed and shined Plastic McForehead is named Ned. But it rhymed, so I’m going with it.

I would lick blonde shoulderblades for a living even if it paid only in oatmeal.

EDIT: Douche Vader makes the important observation that the reflection in the forehead resembles the same cartoon male genitalia that is seen on HCwDB of the week winner, ChandlerBag. The signs are there. We need only to find them.

Mt. Everest

When asked why he’d climbed that spikey hair, explorer George Mallory said, “Because it was there.”

Good answer.

Is this one of the Twins gearing up for the HCwDB Monthly? Is Brunette Lovely donning librarian glasses because she knows it’ll cause the DB1 to drool on his shirt like an incontinent stroke victim?

Only time will tell. Time, and a lot of rubbing alcohol.

EDIT: For those seeking to climb Douche Everest, reader pfah has created a Hiker’s Map.

Your Morning Boobies/Choad

It’s like a hotel wakeup call.

If that hotel wakeup call simultaneously tickled your scrotae whilst pounding you in the face with a brick.