Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Maybe 2012 Really Is the End of Civilization
The entire collective history of humankind’s advancement and achievement just squatted out a turd flush.
Hot Chicks With Douche Bags
PICTURES OF HOT CHICKS WITH TOTAL AND COMPLETE DOUCHEBAGS. WITH COMMENTARY.
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Hall of Mock
- Pfah
- DarkSock
- Baron Von Goolo
- Troy Tempest
- Steve L
- Wheezer
- Medusa Oblongata
- creature
- Crucial Head
- Mr. White
- Archidoucheis
- Mr. Biggs
- Vin Douchal
- Sergeant Scrote Stain
- boatbutter
- Captain Bringdown
- Whoop-di-douche
- Jacques Doucheteau
- massengill
- Dr. Bunsen Honeydouche
- Mr. Scrotato Head
- Deltus
- The Reverend Chad Kroeger
- mr.reeve
- Wedgie
- Et Tu Douche?
- Eliza Douchcoo
- dbBen
- soy bomb
- DoucheyWallnuts
- I R A Darth Aggie
- jonezy
- Hermit
- Chris in ‘Baghdad
- Douchble Helix
- the douche is alright
- Choad the Douche Sprocket
- Stephanie
- The Dude
- Dude McCrudeshoes
- Sir David Douchenborough
- Il Douché
- Bag A
- douche equis
- Capt. James T. Douche
- Charles Nelson Douchely
- THEONETRUEDOUCHE
- Merle Baggard
- ehcuodouche
- Franklyn DealorNo Doucheifelt
- Charles Douchewin
- FredN.
- Ol' Dirty Douchebag
- In memoriam: bcs
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I’d twist that silver choker into a garrote, and remove that ‘x’ of electrical tape and then all would be well with this world!
Second!
The douchosity on display is………..UnReal.
I’d twist the silver choker until his head exploded.
What in the F*CK are those holes/indentations in his side?
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Best guess wins The Old Choad 2011 Imagination Award!
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.Our guess: in-sewn flesh eyelets wherein he can pull his skin taught (A Man Called Horse-style) during various pagan blood-letting rituals (that may or may not involve the sacrifice of Bleeths or small, furry animals on the altar of King Douchious IV.
The prom king and queen at Grundle Kick Continuation School
These two represent an abandoned generation, spawn of stiff-necked, irresponsible parents who traded discipline, reason and hard work for the convoluted philosophy of drug culture and self-indulgence. The iniquity of the fathers are visited upon the children in the form of bad sitcoms, immediate gratification and Velcro®. Now these perma-children are reduced to presenting themselves as a garish spectacle of egotistic narcissism. Unwitting pawns, completely devoid of responsibility, unaware and ill-prepared for the oncoming geopolitical death roll they will soon face.
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John Hinkley Jr. and Jodie Foster walk hand in hand, balancing baskets of ripe fruit on their heads, over the graves of Thomas Jefferson and Ronald Reagan. Out of work lesbian iron-workers, strong and dependable in their flannel shirts, wear tiny nylon stockings on erect, metallic nipples against the bitter cold. The Ghost of Christmas Future never told Ebenezer that Santa’s elves would be replaced by shrink-wrapped, eight-year old Chinese factory workers and elderly Pakistani women furiously squirting feeble goat juice into dirty paint cans while the bombs explode outside, Rocking the Casbah and rearranging Barney’s rubble.
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The hard-working laborer stands forlornly in the check-out line clutching his bags of rice and frijoles in his callused hands, hoping it will sustain his family for another week. Ahead of him, the three-hundred-pound Welfare Queen rolls back and forth like an overloaded cargo ship, as she segregates her groceries into two mammoth piles. The first will fatten her dependant-class meal tickets with Frosted Flakes, Hamburger Helper and peanut butter, paid for with “benevolent” government food stamps. The second pile contains cartons of cigarettes, hair care products and cases of Bud Light and Diet Pepsi. The laborer, his dark and chiseled face etched in consternation, wonders which pile his payroll taxes pay for, and how long before he must swallow his remaining pride and cross over to the other side.
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It’s first and goal on the one-yard line as The Machine prepares to run up the score while up in the luxury suites and safely out of view, Obama, Wealthy Bankers and Lapdog Propagandists finger-bang each other, locked in a cluster-fucking Menage au trois of excess and hypocrisy.
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Meanwhile, the Death Clock spins out of control over Times Square, as the Machine rolls on inexorably, fueled by the combustible entrails of apathetic multitudes, it’s gears lubricated with the virginal blood of the innocent.
in Soviet Russia bohunk grease you
Yes @Hermit….but WHAT ARE THE F*CKING HOLES IN HIS SIDE FOR?
Speaking of Russia, I’d popoff in her in a second!
And speaking of HOLES, I’d finger hers for hours!
Conan the Autoerotic Asphyxiator meets 1984 Madonna. Sometimes, in their desperate quest for relevence, cliches collide and send each other spiraling sideways through time.
Hey folks – one category that was missed this year was “greatest crisis of modernity”. I think we found it with this image and Hermit’s tirade. DB1? I recommend this image and hermits tirade be the 2011 douchie award winner for “Greatest Crisis OF Modernity”. Why? Because Hermit nailed it. And not with a hammer but one of those staple guns that uses a .22 short to blast a band of steel into a resistant surface, one as thick and hard as the dull silicates between the ears of the douchebag in this image. So, Hermit got it. And the image? These two epitomise the emptiness of the horror that our civilisation has become. They are the cultural trashbags of ignorance and stupidity that is at the centre of the current crisis of modernity. They suck.
@TT, Hermit was one step ahead of you:
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http://hotchickswithdouchebags.com/2011/12/greatest-crisis-of-modernity-the-cell-phone-bathroom-self-portrait/
is it wrong if hermits opus made me stiffen?
While this couple represents a general loss to society, the holidays draw my attention to those impacted most.
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Let us not forget, the male in this picture is somebody’s son, and possibly he is also a brother, an uncle, a father or husband.
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If this is so, as we mock him, let us consider his parents, brother, nephew, son or wife.
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I am saddened for them, because their relative is a douche.
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And their holiday dinners must be awkard.
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Because it is impolite for one’s date to adjust her nipple tape when at table.
These two were on here before in a Friday Haiku. I know this because I have no life and an excellent memory for nipple tape sitings. Some sort of S&M party where people like to get their freak on. Whatevs. Crisis of Modernity? Nah, modern day costume ball, except nipple tape in the place of masks. Should we be outraged that the freaky dude with holes in his side is nailing the freaky chick with tape on her boobs. I guess, unless something better is on TV. Will 2012 be the end of the world or is predicting our demise something people have been doing for years just to have an excuse to do whatever they want. I didn’t know we needed an excuse.
She is Mother Nature; bottled, bolted and choked by the hand of…
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dammit, I’m far too lazy to do a Hermit imitation. Nice work, lad!
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Nancy, I think you’re right, by which I mean I’m far too lazy to examine the Haiku Archive.
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Just call me Fart Oo Lazy
Miami, eh? Where is Dexter when you need him…
She is smoking hott. He….a steaming pile of poo.
When you are wearing electrical tape to work you have got to stop and take a look at your life and where you are heading.
Put this one down for a 2012 Douchie shortlist.
George Michael and Prince’s gay love-child?
Looks like some Amazonian burrowing parasite has been wandering around this Douche for a few weeks. Or a gopher.
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Czervik fans.
That’s some sort of clone/turd of Gynochin, isn’t it?
Hermit. (Moment of Silence)
Awesome, yet again.
Hermit may have just awarded the 2012 Greatest Crisis of Modernity and won the 2012 Comment of the Year™ awards in one fell swoop.
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That’s pretty fuccen efficient.
Nancy Dreuche (4:13 p.m.) said: These two were on here before in a Friday Haiku
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She is correct.
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And in the first appearance of The Poopaloompa, I believe, someone made this observation: “What in the hell happened to men?” The same largely unanswered (except by us) question springs to mind.
@Wheezer, I knew there was a reason I’ve never threatened to end you. Thanks for the confirmation.
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And yeah Hermit, great stuff as per usual. You must have gotten a six pack of The Quil for Christmas. I know, I know, the red not the green and Dayquil is for pussies and my Mom.
Those “holes” you are asking about are where the muscles connect into his rib cage. He doesn’t have much fat in the layers below his skin in that area,so it shows more bulge in that area,as muscles/bones and connecting tissue.
But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a hole in his head,and what women would let a man strangle her in a photo? That’s super creepy. Where’s the ” fucking creep category” or a category for most likely to rape his girlfriend.
And he’s sexy for another man and not a women.
I know one thing: if this fucknut isn’t too much of a gaybag, he needs a name so DB1 can give him his Weekly award already. This one skipped and twiddled right over Mack and C-Dawg (yo) and should challenge for 2012’s first Monthly.
Hermit is a sage of our time.
These two really do represent the end of civilization as we know it. And by that I mean I’d like to ejaculate on her torso.
Her tits never move
Since the gyroscope was put
In her monkey hole.
– The Reverend Chad Kroeger
What does bespoke mean?
I’m sobbing in a heap on the kitchen floor over Hermit’s dire prediction. The rattle of dead leaves outside the window blends with the baying of a lost dog over the hills.
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That being said, I have a three-finger taint punch for this dude. She can watch if she wants. And by watch I mean toss my salad.
Laughing @Wallnuts!
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7.51am in re: the GateKeeper: “I really can’t stand the flat-brimmed baseball hat. And by that I mean I’d love to ejaculate on Charleene’s torso.”
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8.46pm here: “These two really do represent the end of civilization as we know it. And by that I mean I’d like to ejaculate on her torso.”
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Like the tides, the fuccin tides!
Perhaps “she” is simply his bleethe-sized cockk, adorned for the occasion.
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And by “occasion” I mean “Village People Concert at the local Indian Reservation Casino Main Stage, Where Ironically ‘The Indian’ member of the group is treated with consternation by the Native American employees”…
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YMCA’ers
Thank you very little for that image, DarkSock, but I prefer Escher’s “Gate Keeper with Wang Torso”.
I didn’t know ferrets took steroids…
[img]http://www.ferret-hammock.com/uk/ferret1.jpg[/img]
I like to keep in mind that to mock does not preclude to bang. So while I mock the bleeth I’d, more times than not, bang the bleeth.
The “hair-care products” completed the visual of Hermit’s damning sermon. I will say no more than that lest I be censored.
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^Bespoke means expensive custom tailoring like this guy would have worn. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wbUQ2bV–0A&feature=related
@ wedgie,
Bespoke explained (28 nipples involved)
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Mayan calendar explained
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Porch beef explained (DarkSock involved)
Porch beef explained
1 out of three ain’t bad
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Mayan Calander esplained
A human head is such an odd place to find a coral formation.
And I think I speak for all of us when I say that their simply is NOT enough nipple tape in the world.
Torque MuleBrow…huh. Musta been hammered that night.
@DB1 – aaaah. Thanks.
apropos of nothing, but here’s my serendipitous internet find of the day:
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“Arcade Fire suck dick and should all die in a marching band accident.”
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Should the word “suck” have an “s” on it? What about “dick”; is the plurality inferred, or is the intent of the author that the several band members each fellate the same hypothetical member?
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Discuss.
Speaking of fellatio: re: Choad the Douche Sprocket’s 2:16 pm query, THAT is what those rib-holes are in Peter Gallagher-Bag’s torso – he is evolving gills so he can perma-fellate without detaching from his lamprey-like stance at the gloryhole doily to gasp for oxygen.
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Just a theory.
OK, I think ‘Sock (8:11 a.m.) has won the naming rights for this assclown. I’ll modify it a bit to “Petri Gallagher” if the panel has no objections.
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And I love Lämprey.
This pair are so full of themselves. Good Lord the ‘Bag’s a douche!
@DarkSock, Arcade Fire Suck Dick would also be a good band name.
Vs. Arcade Fire Sucks Dicks?
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I can’t resolve this dilemma…Can’t sleep at night….can’t eat…
I think when you’re addressing an entire band the proper way is to that the band sucks dick. For example when I say RUSH sucks dick, I’m implying that the entire band fellates eachother individually. Not like a group thing because that might be construed as gay. I hope that cleared everything up.
Holy shit! We might already be looking at the 2012 Bag of The Year winner. This one will be hard to top.
I’m thinking his holes are actually gills. So he can still breathe while there’s a swordfight going on in his mouth.
I think a horse peed in those holes once.
This photo is somewhat metaphorical: they’ve both been choked by a cockk at one time or another.