Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Props to the 'Sock!

And by “sock,” I mean Marty Puffinmuscle’s impromptu and improvisational adherence to prophylactic need.

Aka the social conventions of discovering birth control methodology via article of clothing in Marty’s van down by the river upon convincing an addled Corrie that she should, like, totally make out with him for a few hours, then watch the sunrise.

Your humble narrator is back from meditative and monastic retreat in Uttar Punjab and ready to fire things up again.

Gotta a hamper full of soiled HCwDB pics ready to fire.

I hope all of your Seders and Seder-ripoffs (Easter) were delightful and macaroon filled. Now lets do this thang.

Happy Beaster…

Here come’s Peter Pumpin’ tail…

Hoppin’ down the Bunny Trail…

Special Emergency "Caption This" Telethon…

…Because damned if I can put words to this.

Friday Thoughts and Links

Greetings from a hot and muggy storm-ravaged Mississippi, my fellow sports-fans.

Still no sign of the DB1; although some alert readers along the Pacific Rim have noted regional news stories of recent llama-related social disturbances.  Perhaps he shall return enlightened and share the bounty of his wisdom, with us all arrayed in wonder at his sandaled feet.

Or he may just resume spewing the stellar B.S. we’ve come to know and love.

Until then…here’s your Friday Thoughts and Links:

How your steering wheel can tell you who’s a douchebag.

Mitt Romney or Mister Burns?

This just in… Dolphins not so damned intelligent on land, are they?

Oh, please…let’s just stop this charade, shall we?  I know what you came here for…

Amplified Flatulence Pear

Back-Lit Pear.

Self-Portrait Pear.

Towel Tanga Pear.

And…CUT!

The Poo Tip

Oh, sure, you can chortle at the plaid-clad Poo Tip…but he’ll be swabbin’ her ear wax, if you know what I mean.

I think that was a single entendre…

Friday Haiku

Nathan Explosion

Cartoon dude with Cartoon bleethes…

Metalocalypse!

It’s not the size of

the wand, but the magic in

it. He shoots blanks, too.

— Wheezer

From the Depths of Hell

Comes Vapid, Shallow Creature

Welcome,Trust-Fund Tool

— Bag em, Tag em

By the power of

Greyskull, I command you to

*****-**** all night.

— The Reverend Chad Kroeger

“Hey, wanna party

on my tour bus?” It’s yellow,

has only five rows

— Wheezer

chest bombs can’t be stopped

only hope to contain them

Hello Kitty poke

— SonnyChibaChoad

Gene Simmons Jr.

Wears guyliner because he

Doesn’t have dad’s tongue

— The Dude

Darth Commodicus

Senses disturbance, those aren’t

Boobs, they’re space stations

— Dude McCrudeshoes

Balloon Squeak Popouts

Hey! There’s nuthin’ wrong with that!

‘Cept, the center douche.

— Franklyn DealorNo Doucheifelt

I caught the VD

From looking at this picture

My wife says, “Yea Sure!”**

— Doucheywallnuts

Chongo Bonobo

Has fallen from ugly tree

And hit every branch

Dispeptic TattBag

Bored with the the club scene acts cool

Mom still makes his bed

— Vin Douchal

Blaine/Angel poser.

Abra-abra-ca-dabra!

Lesions, now appear!!!

— Baron Von Goolo

**“Yea Sure”, she says

HCwDB – After Dark(Sock) Thursday Edition

Douche McDingle visits us again, delivering the after-dark pear all lickety-split like, with aplomb and verve.

I can’t get enough of  callipygian legend Ass Pear LaPlante…

So SUE ME.

Snake Douche points at the womp rat in beggar's canyon

I’d bulls-eye it…

hermit's submission for HCwDB's imminent 2023 Guggenheim Exhibit

Hallowed Site Sage “hermit” offers this sepia-toned trip down memory lane:

“I happened upon this stunning piece, and submit it for consideration.

I call it; “Friendly Gathering on a Humid Afternoon”

When one views this profound work, those halcyon memories from days-gone-by flood the mind, rendering nostalgic images of Church Socials and Family Picnics, set in a far simpler time, when life moved at a slower pace and the world seemed less complicated.

Oh, to be transformed back to those days when an open bottle of whiskey, a distended paunch and a cheering throng of well-wishers was an invitation for a fly-fumbling speed-freak with skinny thighs to perform unnatural, public sex acts under overcast skies, in the waning light of a humid, Summer evening!

An unpretentious time, before HIV and leash laws, when homely unwed mothers pushed their bastard children in wobbly baby-strollers down peaceful dirt roads, and friendly Irish Setters walked unfettered among the revelers.

——–

EDIT: Hark!! Uponst my walkabout I heard a disturbance in the HCwDB Force. I come hither out of my alcholic HoHo sugar-rush induced stupor to discover: Hippie Peen. And so I summon the unholy force of 4-Prong to cover said peen. And the universe is whole again… and walkabout continues… as you are in the fine hands of the one and only ‘Sock…

Corner corner corner chameleons…they come and go

Okay, baghunters – can you spot:

1. Fish Slap’s “special friend”;
2. Carnie Wilson’s daughter;
3. The ‘bag filled with regret over his drunken decision to french kiss a wounded bobcat

Please enter your wagers, as ever, by clicking on the comments link.