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Saturday, January 24, 2009
Ask DB1: Why Ubiquitous Red Cup?
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DB1,
Long time reader and fan. Was wondering if you could answer a deep question that has been bothering me for quite some time. What is the meaning behind the Ubiquitous Red Cup (URC)? I mean, yes, it is everywhere, but what is its purpose?
There must be some philosophical meaning to its presence, especially since we see it around douches of all colors, more so than the civilized public. Thank you for your time, and stay frosty. We can’t afford to let any of these douche bastards in here.
Matt in RVA
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Ubiquitous Red Cup has become the centralized iconic signifier in structuring our understanding of universal douche/hott.
It is a talisman signifying ideal within the abstract. Perhaps it is a bit like what Hitchcock called the “MacGuffin”. A structuring icon that helps us to bridge the specific differences and advance our larger treatise.
It’s also the sign of a slammin’ off-the-hook pool party at Kal’s while his parents are, like, out of town yo.
Friday, January 23, 2009Friday Thoughts and Links
I have but one deep thought upon this Friday:
Rose Schlossberg’s mom may not be New York’s next senator, but someday the DB1 will charm Little Rose Hott herself into becoming my next little Boobie Hottie Suckle Thigh. By seductively wooing her with takeout Chinese food and a bottle of Ernest and Julio Gallo’s finest under-$20 fortified wine.
Here’s your Friday links:
Uberdouchey corrupt former governor of Chicago, Rod Blagojevich signs a boobie. Stay classy, Rod, you douchepimple.
Douchebag Seeks Hot Chick on Dating Site
Fung We Can. Fung We Did.
Paul Janka is concentrated, bottled uberdouche. I would pay a small Malaysian orphan boy 20 Yuan and a digital watch to kick him in the nads and then run off quickly.
Go forth, friends. Go forth and celebrate the Boobie Suckle Thigh and the forces of non-douche that fight the good fight. For it is Friday.
(Oompa Prompa trading card designed by HCwDB’s own Jean Claude Van Douche)
Friday, January 23, 2009The Nothing Up My Sleeve ‘Bag
Sometimes Oldbags can achieve a state of pure zen-douche simply through whether or not they decide to rip off their sleeves to show off the guns.
And yes, Milfy Sharon. You may be a bank manager by day. But by night, you are naughty.
EDIT: A few minutes later, out came the flex poses. And a new girl in a red dress??
Friday, January 23, 2009The Nothing Up My Sleeve 'Bag
Sometimes Oldbags can achieve a state of pure zen-douche simply through whether or not they decide to rip off their sleeves to show off the guns.
And yes, Milfy Sharon. You may be a bank manager by day. But by night, you are naughty.
EDIT: A few minutes later, out came the flex poses. And a new girl in a red dress??
Friday, January 23, 2009Mickey Rourke Redeems Career With Powerhouse Acting Performance: Still a Huge Douchebucket
It had to be said.
EDIT: And to respond to repeated emails asking me if I had anything to do with last night’s episode of Supernatural, called “Criss Angel is a Douchebag,” the answer is no. Hollywood now seems to feel directly stealing ideas and written content is fine, so long as it’s on a website, apparently.
Friday, January 23, 2009Sin City, Connecticut
Ryan writes in with a ‘bag tag from Waterbury, CT:
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DB1-
The best part about this photo is they are at a bar called “Sin City” (which is better known as “suck city”) which is actually located in Waterbury CT, a sh@thole of a city with the dirtiest people in the country.
Why does this bar suck? because the people who go there suck and stand infront of a banner as if they mattered to promote the mutual suck of themselves and the bar.
– Ryan
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Well argued, almost tautological logic there, Ryan. But how much could the city suck if those two Brunette drinks of water are willing to live there? Looking sweet-hott and all sorts of corruptable? And, uh, cohabiting with the Ed Hardy Boys…
Hmm. I see your point.
Friday, January 23, 2009Friday Haiku
I blame his mom, yet
We are all complicit, no?
Web face indicts all.
Weather man in France
takes his job a little far
Forecast is douchebag
— plinky
The Doppler radar shows
a low-pressure zone where his
dignity should be.
— Mr. White
stare into my eyes
sleepy hypnosis takes you
to douche you succumb.
— Bleeth McGhee
Douche learned the hard way
huffing markers to get high
will make your head spin.
— Douche Unto Others
Thursday, January 22, 2009Tad and Trina
Tad knew that the only thing to complete his pink satin pimp wardrobe was his patented Spider Leg Hair Shaves.
For the forty-seventh time that night, Trina regretted her decision to take a semester off from Arizona State.
Thursday, January 22, 2009Ed Hardy Sucks German Alpaca Balls
Tuesday’s Ed Hardy post drew this email from Cologne, Germany:
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Dear DB1,
Not only does Ed Hardy suck royally from the nutsac of grazing Alpacas, its global expansion is eroding the highly prized and valued precision of excellence here in Cologne, Germany.
In fact, Mr. Hardy has decided to make Cologne ground zero for his first every ‘par-tay’ in the fatherland of blonde-haired blue-eyed boobie hottie suckle thigh where some ancestors have gone so far as to rage wars in their defense. I stood jaw agape in utter shock as I snapped this picture. I recognize it has no douchebag, no hot chick. But I find its dispension of information horrifying. Does he really need to Brand Clubs? Should we notify PETA? Doesn’t that violate ethics on multiple levels of Kingdom, Phylum, Class, Order, Family, Genus and Species? Does there really need to be live sax AND percussions? Does a dance-fashion-show demonstrate a new world order of decay? Why need this club be named ‘Diamonds’? The pounding questions perplex the strongest of wills.
Ironic?
Hardly, Mr. Hardy. We’re wise to your Machiavellian scheming.
Nero was famous for playing the fiddle as he watched Rome burn. Nero was the son of Claudia Agrippina a local area noble woman with ambition and a fecund propensity for all things blingy, whose marriage established Cologne as a Roman colony (Colonia Claudia Ara Agrippinensium) – hence where the current namesake derives. Nero was remorseful for killing his mother, probably because he determined she had gone Bleethius Maximus Extremus and was beyond cleansing. So sadly we have a history, but I had held out hope.
Now, I just see fires on the horizon.
Burn, Cologne. Burn.
I’ll get my fiddle.
Respectfully,
Herr Professor Douchemann
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Ed Hardy is the latest battlefront in the War on Douche. Fight the good fight, Herr Professor. Like Thomas Mann and Marlene Dietrich before you, you must speak out and save the Boobie Suckle Thigh. From really stupid skull cartoons.
Thursday, January 22, 2009Brianna’s ATM
Remember that nerd-sexy girl from Senior Year who always seemed to be slightly “above” the wanks who hovered awkwardly arounds her at lunch? Slightly removed. Detached from the white-noise of college sexual tension.
The girl who should’ve been wearing librarian glasses to fire up your fantasies, but never did. The one who when you walked by her, studying in the quad, she’d give you a smile that could melt Eskimo scrotum after seal hunt?
That’s Brianna.
She knows what’s up.
And what’s up is Pietro, the Italian exchange student from Florence, is paying.
