Comment of the Week: Jacques Doucheteau
Like a modern day Jefferson, Hamilton, and Spicolli, Jacques Doucheteau pens the “Declaration of Douchiness” in the Dieselcrotch thread, and wins the coveted HCwDB Comment of the Week:
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I think it’s actually the Declaration of Douchiness.
When in the Course of electronic music festivals, it becomes necessary for one ass-hat to dissolve the tribal tatt arm bands which have connected them with another, and to consume among the alcohol of the cheapest, the separate and unequal station to which the Laws of Douche and of Douche’s feeling of entitlement, a void of respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the hotties which impel them to copulation.
We hold these boobies to self-levitate, that not all men are created equal, that they are well endowed by their Personal Trainer with certain Anabolic Steroids, that among these are Clenbuterol, Methyltestosterone and the pursuit of Swoleness. — That to secure these bitches, Night Clubs are instituted among Men, deriving their just wattage from the playlist of the iPod, — That whenever any Form of Fist pumping becomes destructive of these beats, it is the Right of the Bouncer to yell at or to abolish it, and to institute new Fist Pumping, laying its foundation on such rhythms and organizing its beats in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their House and Dubstep. Narcissism, indeed, will dictate that Parties long established should not be changed for lame and transient city ordinances; and accordingly all rumors hath shewn, that Douchebags are more disposed to suffer, while fags in their mom’s basement are sufferable, than to fight each other by abolishing the hotties to which they are accustomed. But when a long weekend of bodily abuses and libations, pursuing invariably the same taut Hottie, evinces a design to frustrate them under absolute Rejection, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Lesbo Bitch Whores, and to provide new Guidettes for their future Cream Pie-ing.
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I belive her harbour is mined
Sure, she looks wierd.
Sure, her boobz are plastic.
Sure, she’s in the presence of an oldbag fungoid.
I don’t care.
I would be tickled pink if she dipped my cajones in gasoline and lit a match.
Awesome. Jacques’ verses could not have been more spot on. And by spot on I mean this chick’s areolas must take a daily beating from them tassles
Boobs.
Wow. Kudos to Jacques. This needs to be elevated beyond comment of the week and be placed somewhere on HCwDB’s masthead.
Scientists and academics everywhere are studying the causes and effects of economic collapse, global warming, and the decay of civilization into dystopian anarchy. Little do they realize this picture up here gives them all the answers they need.
Wow. Talk about self-levitating ta-tas
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And what a wonderful post-half-birthday present to wake up to after a night a drunken revelry and married debauchery. I have a headache that feels like my eyes are being pushed out from behind with a railroad spike, and a lower back spasm from I don’t know what but it only serves to remind me I’m getting old, but hey, fuck it. The ol’ lady let me blow it on her tits last night, and isn’t the little things that really matter sometimes?
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When I say “little things” I’m not talking about…well, you know. Never mind.
This chick’s tits are more fake than a photocopy of a picture of a forgery of Obama’s Hawaiian birth certificate.
That’s not a tassel. It’s congealed silicone leaking out of her boob.
Name the fakest thing in this pic:
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A) Her tits
B) Her hair
C) His hardassedness
That document was proudly signed by John Hang-cockk.
Lesbo Birch Whores would be an excellent Barber Shop Quartet name.
Birch, Bitch whatevs.
Jack in the freezer, HST flick on the TV. The future is bright.
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Bitches.
That dude has really nice tit fez’s, I’d probably weep sharpie ink too if a Guido elf that smells like an Italian hoagie tried to grab my crank.
She’s got the boobs of a tranny. Choker collars hide the Adam’s apple. Just sayin’…
I like Lesbo Birch Whores. They could open up for world famous a capella R&B boy trio, Fairy Elm Trollup.
My new mission in life: to design edible nipple covers. And eat many of them during the “product testing” phase of the operation.
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Flavor savors
Oh, tres bien frére Jacques! I always forget to say that whenever I am not the honorée. 🙂
delayed reaction to Capt. Crank’s commint. Fuckin’ el
Page one problem regarding a needed look from the rewriters of douchetoe’s winning entry: being douchey does not set you free! It’s a trick.
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Communist Manifesteroes
Some notable signers of the Declaration of Douchiness were:
Bromas Jefferson
John Peen
Manual Handlin’ Adams
John “Tranny” Adamsapple
Abroham Clark
William Nipple
Broseph Pewes
Benjamin “Stackhouse” Franklin
Samuel Huntingcunt
Chode Grymer
good grief, Jacques — I’m glad you took that bait! Holy shiite!
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Brocahontus is all I got. Fuck! Huntingcunt? hoohaaaa!
not douchey version of that terrifying J-Lo pablum:
The terrifying J-Lo thing was her “rendition” of “Lambada”. This song was raped, then re-fucked and verbally abused by the Pop Culture that I revile, hate and fuck all, why do they make money doing stuff for J-Lo?
Lesbian Birch Whores is awesome….you might want to copywrite that now Dreuche in case some truly uncreative, opportunistic, Lesbian bitches steal it and get a well-deserved record deal.
“Electronic Music Festivals” – Jaques
JLo /Beyonce, Taylor Swift, Miley, that stupid (ugly) Rianna,,,,,,,,,,,,,the end of civilization – and all of it is on the same level as a bath salt face eating person.
Like the same group responsible for the “Rock Of Ages” – in any way, shape or form – reprehensible “Suckers of Satan’s Cock” – Bill Hicks
Dear J.D.,
I honestly believe that I have never laughed harder or been more proud of the mock in my life. Well done, sir.
I like Taylor Swift, especially as compared to the corporate-generated beasts that don’t care if they suck Satan’s kakakke.
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I don’t like her all that much, so if she must be dumped, I ain’t ‘plaining.
Huntingcunt for the one-word win. I love the smell of laughter in the morning!
Ima grow a douchey, turn-of-some-century moustache, call myself “Samuel J. Huntingcunt. At your service, madam!”
I bet she’d be one wild fuck in the sack.