Saturday Musings
It’s early morning on a Saturday, and your half awake narrator on all things Brain Grenade/Bone Zone, is contemplating the morphing douchological plague.
After a doozer of sober busters I had an epiphany last night.
I’ve been overly cruel to New Jersey. I owe the Garden State a bit of a mea culpa for overstating its role within douche hierarchy.
This is not to say Jersey isn’t one of the central fronts in the War on Douchebaggery. It is. Only that compared to areas of Long Island and Staten Island, Jersey really isn’t producing grease choads at quite the rate one would assume.
Jersey’s in the mix. There’s no doubt of it’s douche influence. But there are other cities and areas far higher on the pie-chart of hottie/scrotey violation.
I’m looking at you, Chicago and Dallas. Douche clone factories. Dystopian nexus points of aesthetic violations. Of fist pumping blight. Even cities you wouldn’t assume would pump out the pumped up douchescrotes. Atlanta. Memphis. Even Vancouver.
Even my City of Angels. Actorbags and unemployed stubblebags working out their “Game” moves on the latest crop of 18-24 year olds fresh of the boat from Sheboygan. But alas, as the fires recede from the hills of Malibu, I tip my Red Cup of the ‘Train. Because, no matter how Bleethed they may be, the young hottie boobies are still bouncing.
Special thanks to reader Pfah for the kickass new banner for the site. He is a supreme ‘bag hunter, and I honor his rapier wit and ability to lust after the boob while mocking the choad with erudite aplomb. Good to have you on board brotha.
