Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

The Cyborg

I refuse to accept that I share a genetic species with this waxen plastic android.

I will, however, share genetics with Pouty McBlondehott on the right.

Heh.

I made a clever.

BOING! in 3rd Place

BOING! can’t believe he’s trailing badly in 3rd place in the HCwDB of the Week contest. Its currently douche-neck and douche-neck between Smoove Velvet Jones and the Everybag Ricky.

To protest his utter lack of douchepreciation, BOING! is going to give himself a proctology exam. With a giant spiked cactus.

Voting is still open, scroll down and cast your vote. Help a Boinga out.

Gypsy Moth

It’s hard to determine exactly when a trend turns into a full blown onslaught. But the mass replication of the Fauxhawk/Mohawk is undeniable at this point. It is rapidly replacing the popped collar as the single biggest giveaway of douche.

I had thought the wispy fwiphawk development of late 2004 had consumed itself in a post Ryan Seacreast American Idol swamping of mass consumption by this point. But here it is again, retuning in mutated douchological form. Perched fungally on top of this greasy middle aged Gypsy Moth Chinbag.

As to the two hotties? What’s the word I’m searching for.

Oh yeah.

Yes.

Punch Drunk 'Bag

Punch Drunk ‘Bag has the puka shell muscle choad look down perfectly. He’s like the foreign kid in highschool who took out all of his culture-shock frustrations by spendng six hours a day in the weight room. Pumping up with an angry “don’t talk to me” scowl and listening to 1980s Swedish death metal blasting on his iPod.

You rock with your bad self, Punch Drunk ‘Bag. And I dig that boat you’re on. Very Miami nouveau riche.

Persian Kitty makes me want to sing hymns in Sanskrit while inventing Algebra.

Billy Go Potty

Then there are the hottie/douchey couples that simply disturb. No amount of curvy soft boobage, nor mockable tatted up burnt out rocker choad, can demystify the stench of wrong. They are simply a vortex of karmic societal pain personified in the frozen duality of heterosexual dalliance.

Take Billy Go Potty and His Squatting Hottie, pictured here. They dance the douchetron dance at what appears to be Douche Mecca itself, the Hard Rock Casino’s Rehab party.

As such, they form a singularity of suck. There is no recovery for the hottie who dances so close to Billy Goes Potty. There is only the darkness of finger tattoos.

What saddens me is Billy’s sporting the Kirk Douglas chin dimple. And Kirk Douglas kicks ass. No douche should be allowed the Kirk Douglas chin dimple. Not in any sane or just world.

Only Spartacus gets the dimple. And Billy is not Spartacus.

Lobot

Speaking of Lando Calrissian in the Weekly (and don’t forget to vote), is this greasy douchewank actually Lando’s right hand man in Cloud City, Lobot?

Ever get the feeling that when it came down to naming the smaller characters in the Star Wars universe, George Lucas stopped trying to rework Japanese and started just slapping new first letters on existing words?

Yeah, he’s uh… Domputer? Nah. How about Mandroid? Nah.

He’s Lobot!

I would ravish European Stable Wench Hottie in a bale of hay while the phonograph played Dietrich’s Der Trommelmann in the echoey scratchy distance. By the farmhouse.

And yes, I just switched from George Lucas to 1920s European literature. Because I’m freaky like that.

HCwDB of the Week

In meditating on the hott/choad combos this week, I’m reminded of the 1985 classic teen comedy about smart kids, Real Genius. Mitch tells Chris Knight that he had a strange dream. Chris asks Mitch, “Was it a dream where you see yourself standing in sort of sun-god robes on a pyramid with a thousand naked women screaming and throwing little pickles at you?”

Mitch answers no. And Chris asks, “Why am I the only one who has that dream?”

I have that dream too, Chris. Only it involves tiny jelly donuts, Purg Hottie and a tub of Crisco.

But you don’t want to hear my perverted sex fantasies. Nor even quotes from the classic that is Real Genius.

You want me to get to this week’s hottie/douchey finalists. And here they is:

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #1: Velvet Jones

Velvet ‘Bag not only features the classic receding hairline “comb-forward” but the Billy Dee Colt 45 smoove ‘stache of sexual healing.

Look at that ‘stache. I mean seriously. Stare at it. It’s almost hypnotic.

V.J. also reminds us that douchebaggery may have originated in the Italian/Guido universe, but it has spread its cross cultural impact like some airborn chicken flu pandemic.

We see ‘bags in Bangledesh. We see scrote in Scranton. We see choad in China. As such, Velvet Douche’s smooth chest and dog-tag bling reek with viral douchosity.

As to the other side of the hottie/douchey equation, Strawberry Cheesecake more than holds up her end of the bargain. God damn I’d like to wrap us up in plastic and ship us by Fedex to Mobile, Alabama. Five day delivery.

Her boobies astound. Just as her levitating dress astounds the late 1970s magical wonderkind Doug Henning. Oh come on. Like you haven’t heard of Doug Henning.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #2: Boing!

One of the key meaning structures of performative douchebaggery involves what philospher Guy Debord describes as “Society of the Spectacle.”

This notion, expanded upon by Baudrillard and ultimately leading to two craptastic Matrix sequels featuring a zombified Keanu Reeves speaking incomprehensible gibberish about levels of reality, engages the notion that mass culture creates social meaning through intertextual visually enhanced spectacles of false construction.

The spectacle supercedes the actual. The spectacle within the simularcrum leads to … BOING!

When the cool mediums transmit meaning, we end up with… BOING!

Because the only way to snag the boobies in an image saturated visual culture is to… BOING!

BOING!

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #3: Ricky

There’s something wonderfully charming about Ricky’s amateur douchebaggery. He’s not really a ‘bag on any physical level, and yet he scrotes with the desperate hunger of the wannabe choad trying to get down with the hotties.

So in a sense he’s charming.

In another sense, he’s an awkward douche.

I went back and forth on letting Ricky compete for the Weekly, but then I decided every so often we need a hero to the working class douchitudes. Ricky is Rocky. Ricky is The Washington Generals.

He has little chance of getting served a platter of Hott later that night. But he’s trying. Dammit, he’s trying.

Hero? Choadmunch? Both? That’s what we’re here to judge.

So here ya go, Ricky. You made it to the finals. What you do with it is up to you.

Honorable mention goes to DJ Poopy Head, who just missed the cut.

So while we have no clear Gators this week to trounce the competition like a hungry hungry hippo, we do have three divergent yet complimentary tropes with which to parse extended hottie/douchebaggery discussions around.

Is it the everyday underdog of ‘bag, Ricky? Or does the visual spectacle of BOING! confirm Baudrillard’s fears about a culture in which visual spectacle supersedes the real?

Or should we buy Velvet Jones’s smoove mustache a Colt .45 and bask in his Lando Calrissian echo?

That, my friends, is up to you.

Vote, as always, in the comments thread.

Cro Bagnon Forever

Reader snarky writes in with the following pic:

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American Douchebag: Millard Fillmore

Not sure who made this, but it’s pretty hilarious.

Millard Fillmore. American Douchebag.

More Saturday Creeper

As douche vader put it in the comments thread to the previous pic:

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There’s rage, and then there’s disgust, but no single douchebag ever featured on this site captures those two emotions within me, at the same time, like this guy. I literally recoil in bile filled horror every time I see his picture. If I had a bat and that tongue was lined up in the cross hairs, I’m not even sure I could take a swing. How do you hit the mother of all douchebags in the face with a bat, agent Kujan? What if you miss?
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So eloquent a ‘bag smackdown D.V. that I had to post this pic just for you.

Because he’s Keyser Douchey.

And she used to be part of a boobieshop quartet in Skokie, Illinois.