Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Exclusive: Game of Thrones Trailer!!

Man, they really should’ve put more money into those spirit wolves…

Wallnuts After Dark – March Madness

I bet none a youse know the phrase March Madness was coined by Dean Martin back in the 60s when we was paintin’ Vegas red every night and boffin’ every skirt we could get our hands on.

You see, back then March was a time a the year when things was a little slower out there in L.A. and we had some time off before the spring. Miami was too far to go for a couple a days, but we could make a Vegas run in no time and it was warm enough that dames was runnin’ around in various states of undress. Na mean?

After a couple a years of this routine Dean would pick up the blower and give us all a call and when we answered all he’d say was, “March Madness,” and we knew it was time for Poon Season in the Desert. We had the whole system where one a Dean’s lackeys, this guy called Philly the Bunion, would set up the dames and the parties and the booze. We didn’t need to do nothin’ other than show up with our joints cleaned up and all ready to go.

One day we was sittin’ around the pool at The Flamingo and Jilly Rizzo and Frank was gettin’ blowed by two a the local pros, and half naked broads was runnin’ around and Louis Prima and Keely Smith’s band was playin’, and Deano looked over at me and says, “Wallnuts,” he says, “there ain’t nothin’ better than this March Madness of ours.”

So when I hear the phrase March Madness I think a Dean goin’ doggie on Mitzi Gaynor in the lounge at the Sands and I gotta chuckle because it reminds me of all a the wild times we had in Vegas, and all a the college basketball games we fixed, too. But that’s another story for another time.

Friday Thoughts and Links

If prom night in Long Island is ever held at a dental convention, it might look a little… something… like this.

So your humble narrator, while hardly a “gamer” in any sense of the word, has been known to occasionally slip into xBox-land every year or so for a solid month of brain numbing retreat and coma-inducing flickering of pixel hypnosis.

That year is this week. Wait, what?

Yes, I am one of the masses attuned to BioShock. The first game offered breakthrough in multimedia storytelling technique mixed with pop-art the likes of which are rarely seen in any medium. Its mixture of game play, fantasy, literature, nostalgia, storytelling, and groundbreaking taboo violation can only be called art.

While I am barely into the game, BioShock: Infinite will inevitably disappoint. One can only have their mind blown by a new form of art once. Repetition, and nearly all games are ultimately repetitive redundancies gussied up in fancy new clothing, is inevitable.

Still, it’s nice to see hundreds of millions of dollars committed to a real vision, while cinema continues to bleed genericism from every crappy action pore. Star Trek has been generified, reduced to awful one liners and standard Michael Bay cityscape explosion porn. And now Disney and JJ Abrams are out to castrate whatever originality is left in the decaying Star Wars corpse. Movies are as devoid of life and originality as a Fembot 3000.

Games may be our only hope.

Here’s your links:

You know you want it.

If you ever doubt the potential for majesty and grace in the human race, doubt no more. And yes, I know it’s a commercial in the end, but who cares.

Burningbags.

The genius of Steve Martin in silent form: The Great Flydini.

Floridian Frauxhawk Pudwack starts paper towel fire, flees on skateboard, gets arrested.

Douchebag Limousines!

And just when you thought douche culture was winding down… I give you meggings. Yep. Male leggings.

Need a new blog to follow? Angry people in local newspapers. Enjoy this while the concept of local newspapers still exists.

Douches at music festivals. That title may be redundant.

Hoo-ah!!

Pear? Pear, you say?

YouTube La Plante.

Or perhaps, Peartopia on Facebook.

Okay, here’s your Pear with a bit of douche on the site:

Asspear and the Largeman Twins

All that is spandex in a spandex universe.

Fraiku

Jan sulks, Kevin broods.

He ain’t getting no gravy

On his Limp Bizkit

Chad found out climax

Is bad time for Dutch Oven

To be pulled on wife

— DoucheyWallnuts

She’s a chatty pro.

Wonders how to spend the next

55 minutes.

— The Reverend Chad Kroeger

Behind the blonde hair

and soft blue eyes lies only

entropic disdain.

— Charles Douchewin

She cooks, does dishes

But why does your mom have to

Be in here with us?

— Vin J Douchal

Ken thinks ’bout baseball

to prolong sexy time, finds

bats an odd turn-on

— Morbo

Bro Kevin bought the

Axe spray, K-Y lube, rubbers

Forgot the blue pill

— Magnum Douche P. I.

Overheard at Disturbing Los Angeles Herspter BBQ

”

“So, like, uhm, if you drop the bass with iTunes, is that still called ‘spinning’? Cuz, like, nothing’s actually spinning. What with the lack of record player. So like shouldn’t it be called ‘digiting’, or something? I’m just checking on, like, the proper nomenclature. Yo.”

Disturboboobs rattle with pensive aplomb.

And… scene.

"The Meatmosians in the Land of Leg Suckle"

Man, I loved that Piers Anthony novel when I was a kid.

One Word Thursday

Thrombosis.

The Vortex of Suckage That Is A Los Angeles Herpster BBQ

Kelly’s accidental run-in with notorious Silverlake DJs Scrabblex and Parcheesix did not end well when her boobs decided to recoil in horror and her vageen donned sunglasses in the hopes that none of the other vageens would recognize her at the next Vageenas Anonymous meeting.

Yup. Stop making sense. And you may ask yourself, why does the DB1 need a coffee? And you may say to yourself, this is not my beautiful sheboyyyyyygen.

Jerry Lewis.

Flock of Wristgulls

Shane learned quickly that nothing seduced the hotties of Mobile, Alabama, quite like tighty whitey armdanas.

Snoop Ferret Put 'Palming a Beachball' Under Skills on His Resume

Kaylee just added her father on Facebook to make sure he sees these pics. Kaylee doesn’t yet know that her father stopped checking his Facebook account in late 2011.