HCwDB of the Week: Air Bud Edition
Due to last week’s monthly, this is a two week hottie/douchey face off, or a fortscrote if you will. As hard as it is to cull down even a week’s worth of samplings, sifting through two weeks requires a fine attention to detail. As well as a vibrating scrotum.
Like a Spidey Sense, my vibrating scrotum has never guided me wrong. Either when deciding which port wine goes with a twinkie. Or in selecting a swamp douche grabbing on to a hottie’s boob like a wounded kraken. So here’s to you, vibrating scrotum. May you continue to guide me with the power of Delphic Oracle mixed with iocane powder.
In edition to my vibrating scrotum, this week’s edition is dedicated to the hippest dog of the 90s, Air Bud. Yes, the basketball playing super dog who switched over to football in the genius cinematic epic, Air Bud II: Golden Receiver. Here’s to you, Air Bud. May all your owners walk you frequently.
What? I like Air Bud. Excuuuuse me. On to the finalists:
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #1: The Crystalline Snowflake
The hottie factor may not be of the overwhelming variety, but when you introduce a douche with this many levels of absolutely absurd ridiculousness, it’s hard not to book him a slot in the Finals.
A greasy forehead that refracts light to a space/time bending curve.
The douche-face. The unbuttoned shirt. And that hair.
Between this pud and Wheatstalks, we’ve seen some fine top-hair lately. A coincedence? Or a trend?
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #2: The Choadmonster
Choady is a ‘bag that grew on me. Like a half finished arm tattoo, there was something about the frozen moment of douche-face that just personifies a personal rage moment.
Tiny Lithe Dancer in front also makes it happen with the efficiency of a robo vacuum cleaner.
There’s a pinwheel being sold at a small fair somewhere in rural New England that if you blow into and put your ear to its spinning plastic petals, will slowly buzz the name, “Chooooaddddmonsterrrr.”
A definite contender.
HCwDB of the Week Finalist #3: Pocahontas II: Electric ‘Bagaloo
It’s hard to argue with exotic beauty, especially when it comes with two swollen and angelic nectarine tats worshipped by the ancient Fryan sect, The Monks of Aberboobies.
As it is important to remind us on our journey into the darkness of hottie/piercy douchitude, the rage factor must come from the energy field created between both hott and scrote.
This pic has that rage factor with electocharged static cling.
Toss in the vaguely downtown Miami Beach key club, and I don’t know whether I want to save Pocahontas from the evil Barbarian Dutch settlers who don’t understand her earthy culture, or set my nipples on fire with a blowtorch.
My vibrating scrotum raised the anger/hott factor in each of these three pics to finalist status. As with any fortscrote sampling, the two weeks of pics had lots of finalist worthy entries. Sloth Jr. just missed the cut. but these are the three. And three shall there be.
But only one can become victorious. And by victorious, I mean contribute negatively by polluting our culture with visual blight.
Which of the three? That, my friends, is up to you. Vote, as ever, in the comments thread. Yeah, you. Step up and vote.
