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Friday, January 16, 2009
The Ed Hardy T-Shirt Guy
Anonymous ‘Bag Huntress writes in:
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OMG, ok, I was just recently turned on to your site (although not “turned on” in that way by the extreme douchebags featured…) anyway, I was reading your Ask DB1 feature yesterday on the Ed Hardy shirt and I said “oh man…that’s Chriz” Yes, his name is Chris, however in pure douchery form he now spells it Chriz. He is one of my “friends” on FB. I have known him for years (even before the douchebag set in) but I have to say, if you are ever in need of some serious douche pics (although I know you have great ones) this guy has MANY!
Oh yeah, he also has a myspace page but instead of having regular profile pics of his friends on there, he has somehow made each one a picture of himself and the HOTT. Oh yeah, I’d like to remain anonymous in case he realizes who is supplying you with this stuff. I’d hate to miss out on all of his updates by having him delete me. LOL
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Thanks A.B.H. nice surveillance and reconnaissance work. Emails like this give me hope that we can save the Hott from the Scrotewank, one Ed Hardy mocking pic at a time.
Friday Haiku
Somewhere on a beach,
A seagull poops on a hat,
But it just blends in.
He wears fake dog tags
Veteran of famous war
Axe’s of power.
— Crucial Head
Tribal arm tattoo
Ed Hardy hat smells like poo
shoot him with your gun
— the douche is alright
When no one said “Yes”
To “Pull my finger, Buddy”
Clem just let ‘er rip
— Vin Douchal
Douche thumb up nip rings
She holds a gun made of Pez
Ends the universe
— YodaDouche
Friday, January 16, 2009Simon LeBone
I don’t have much to note about eyeline wearing tough guy Simon here. Just your standard issue Midwestern Artdouche with a side order of 50s retro-James-Dean taint.
However, I would break into Roma Hott on the right’s bosom chest of wonders with the stealth quiet of the heist in Rififi, and steal away with one of her garters. Then I would fly off to a small island off the coast of Katmandu and spend six months teaching local tribal elders to worship the garter as a shrine to the ancient Mayan God, Umbzecki Ooozwada.
Because Umbzecki Ooozwada never got the props that he deserved. And is high time he has Roma Hott’s garter on his shine as proof of his fearsome Island powers.
You go with your bad self, Island God Umbzecki Ooozwada.
Thursday, January 15, 2009Loop de Poop and Record Producer Guy
Paid-to-Pose professional Boobie Suckle Thigh Loop de Poop sure loves herself some Spectorbags.
Ask DB1: The “Gift” of Ed Hardy
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DB1,
I am faced with a tough decision. This Christmas, my well intentioned sister purchased an Ed Hardy T-shirt for me.
As a fan of the site, I immediately recoiled in horror not so much from the offensiveness of the shirt (it’s just a blue shirt, and actually not that bad – not even in the same vicinity as the daily dose of adouchrements I see on the site) but rather from the realization that my sister thought perhaps I might look “good” in such an ensemble.
This has vexed me. I am terribly vexed.
Does the mere act of receiving such a douchetastic gift (after all, the giver of said gift obviously thought it suited me) automatically punch my ticket to douchedom? Or does my sin (or emancipation) of free will allow me to choose the douche outcome?
After all, the T-shirt is not bad and wearing it would make my sister happy and show my respectful appreciation. Conversely, if I wear this sucker will I suddenly feel the need to shower and start popping in the mirror?
I know the philosopher Descartes had much to say about Free Will and the tangible boundaries of judging the truth , but I’m no philosopher. So what say you? Does one (nearly non-offensive) douchey Ed Hardy T-shirt define the douche?
Signed, Vexed.
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We must place this framework of agency in understanding the shirt as a contested site of meaning within larger structural fields of play. The choice to wear an Ed Hardy shirt must be reconfigured not as isolated act, but within a relational framework in constant flux. Oppositional recoding, relational semiotics and sexual rebranding each act as signified value within the culture industry.
What meaning is generated by your choice to wear a shirt made by a brand so distinctly douche-smelly-poo?
I cannot answer this question for you, Vexed. You must venture forth, the sum of your choices, aware that the lattice of coincidence may lead you to a plate, or shrimp, or a plate of shrimp, but how you choose to make those connections determines the frequency by which they recur.
And boobies. Always boobies. Boobies lead to truth. Ed Hardy leads to poo.
Thursday, January 15, 2009Ask DB1: The "Gift" of Ed Hardy
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DB1,
I am faced with a tough decision. This Christmas, my well intentioned sister purchased an Ed Hardy T-shirt for me.
As a fan of the site, I immediately recoiled in horror not so much from the offensiveness of the shirt (it’s just a blue shirt, and actually not that bad – not even in the same vicinity as the daily dose of adouchrements I see on the site) but rather from the realization that my sister thought perhaps I might look “good” in such an ensemble.
This has vexed me. I am terribly vexed.
Does the mere act of receiving such a douchetastic gift (after all, the giver of said gift obviously thought it suited me) automatically punch my ticket to douchedom? Or does my sin (or emancipation) of free will allow me to choose the douche outcome?
After all, the T-shirt is not bad and wearing it would make my sister happy and show my respectful appreciation. Conversely, if I wear this sucker will I suddenly feel the need to shower and start popping in the mirror?
I know the philosopher Descartes had much to say about Free Will and the tangible boundaries of judging the truth , but I’m no philosopher. So what say you? Does one (nearly non-offensive) douchey Ed Hardy T-shirt define the douche?
Signed, Vexed.
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We must place this framework of agency in understanding the shirt as a contested site of meaning within larger structural fields of play. The choice to wear an Ed Hardy shirt must be reconfigured not as isolated act, but within a relational framework in constant flux. Oppositional recoding, relational semiotics and sexual rebranding each act as signified value within the culture industry.
What meaning is generated by your choice to wear a shirt made by a brand so distinctly douche-smelly-poo?
I cannot answer this question for you, Vexed. You must venture forth, the sum of your choices, aware that the lattice of coincidence may lead you to a plate, or shrimp, or a plate of shrimp, but how you choose to make those connections determines the frequency by which they recur.
And boobies. Always boobies. Boobies lead to truth. Ed Hardy leads to poo.
Thursday, January 15, 2009Welcome to “Flora-Bama”
Where the worst of both states come together to form Mullet.
Welcome to "Flora-Bama"
Where the worst of both states come together to form Mullet.
The Crowhawk
Crowhawk raises his goblet to salute the Ladies of Hott.
The Crowhawk has no need to pay attention to the Variety Pack of Hott (blonde, brunette and Asian) that came with his kitchen. For The Crowhawk only needs you to know. That he is a bad-ass.
Because only badasses roll up the sleeves on their low-cut Armani-Exchange dress-shirt with built-in collar pop. And give you the “Grrrr”-face.
Thursday, January 15, 2009The Oily Bohunk
Oh, Jocelyn.
I know Trent promised you he’d be moving out of his parents’ basement next year when the DeVry degree finally comes in the mail. And the fact your Christmas gift was a six pack of Natty Light was just his crude way of saying, “I love you, toots.”
But really now.
Shouldn’t the douche-face during a self portrait give you some hint that he’s an oily bohunk?
In the parlance of the great Donger, he not worth your time.
