Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Celebrity HCwDB: Avery Levine Tells Peter O'Toole About Marrying the Nickelbag

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In a related story… wait, nothing is related to this tripe.

I apologize for posting this, but for matching HCwDB Douche Tattoo stories, it is relevant to the thematic point of this blog. And therefore we must witness Avery Levine.

Wallnuts After Dark – What's With All A The Gay Stuff?

Ya know, you can’t go nowheres anymore witout seein’ somethin’ about the gays. Now don’t get me wrong, I ain’t got nothin’ against any gays, broads or guys. Especially broads. Na mean?

But seriously, as my Uncle Patsy would say, “Enough’s enough.”

And it don’t mean I gotta bug up my keister for the gays. Hey, if you’re a guy and you get all warm and tingly-like by the site a another guy’s hairy Gugutz, “Va Bene,” I says. Gugutz, I says.

Chicks diggin’ chicks and guys diggin’ guys has been goin’ on since the Greeks invented civilization and all a that other stuff they did there in the ancient times with all a that mythodology, or whatever the f@#k they called it, with them Gods that all looked like Finnochs anyways.

And them Old Time Guineas in Ancient Rome was all into that stuff that we saw in that movie made by the Penthouse Magazine guy about that ruler that had them big sex parties, where he fisted in a horse’s butt once, and all kinds a other crazy boffin’ nonsense. Boffin’ nonsense, I says.

If there’s an NFL guy that’s a gay, who am I, or any of us, to bust his friggin’ culones? As long as he plays hard. And I’m sure he will.

To each his own, as my Aunt Ro-Ro used to say.

I knew this hit man, Frankie the Finnoch we called him, who was as tough as any guy ever. He was a gay. We didn’t mean nothin’ by callin’ him “the Finnoch.”  We just had so many damn Frankies it was easier to call him Frankie the Finnooch. He didn’t care none. Hell, he was Sam Giancana’s favorite hitter, and was Sam’s grandson’s godfather. Hand to God.

Them gays who make a big to-do about gettin’ married are just as pazzo as the other jamokes who don’t want gays to get married. And don’t get me started on the politicians, they don’t give 2 Fazools about none a us. But that’s a cannoli to eat another time.

Marriage pretty much sucks. If the gays want to ruin their lives, let ’em. Some a them lesbian babes shoulda had the chance to talk to Liz Taylor about it. Lana Turner was another skirt who coulda talked some sense into these gay chicks. She said she wanted to be married an have 7 kids and instead she was married 7 times and had one kid, who wound up stabbin’ than Stomapnato Mo-Mo, by the way.

And some a them homosexual fellas – is that an okay name to call ’em? – shoulda talked to Dick Burton or Artie Shaw. They kept gettin’ married and kept gettin’ divorced. And how about half a all a the married people who is friggin’ miserable bein’ married?

Them gays is always tellin’ us how great they have it, yet they wanna go and get hitched, so they can be just like the straights? That don’t make no sense. Madonna Mia! I’ll tells ya, if the anti-gay folks wanna stick it to the gays, they should just let ’em all get married. That’ll fix their wagon!

So as the pointed ear guy Spock from that space show in the 60s said once to another one a his pointy ear buddies, “After a time you may find that having is not so pleasing a thing, after all, as wanting.” Or some shit like that.  Now I says, be careful what you wish for ‘cuz you might just get it.

Friday Thoughts and Links

Didja hear the one about the Bald Asian Guy Obsessed with Black Culture, the Hot Bar Wench and the skinny bottle of Champagne?

You haven’t?!?

Okay, so a Bald Asian Guy Obsessed with Black Culture and a Hot Bar Wench walk into a bar. So they say to the Bartender, “Hey Bartender! Give us a skinny bottle of your best skinny champagne!”

And the bartender goes, “Okay.”

And the bartender gives them two bottles of skinny champagne.

Here’s yer links:

Your HCwDB Historical Text-Book of the Week: The Reign of the Phallus: Sexual Politics in Ancient Athens

Douchebags begin to experience regret in the form of skin removal techniques.

Okay kids, time to play another round of Greatest… Headlines… In… History. And… we have a winner.

Poop in space gives new meaning to the overused term, “Floating Frozen Feces Orbiting a Planet.” What, you don’t use that term in everyday conversation? Where do you hang out?

Okay, screw all this links. Lets get to it:

Crop circle Pear.

Not good enough? Okay:

Greased Up BeachPear

Like a summer breeze. Wait, what?

Friday Haiku

“You wanna screw for

that nut?”, Todd joked…No, but she’ll

Screw for an iPad.

STD spreaders

public funds pay for your fun

which way to clinic

— Bag em, Tag em

He puts the screw in

The basket without a wrench

The Purple Flesh Wrench

— DoucheyWallnuts

For copulation

Needs WD-40

And a screwdriver

— DoucheyWallnuts

This coupling won’t work,

Unless he’s on the bottom,

And she’s a spinner.

— hermit

His hair turned to snakes

Since the gyroscope was put

In her Monkey Hole.

— The Reverend Chad Kroeger

Sometimes she feels like

A nut. Sometimes she don’t. I’d

Chew her Almond Joy.

— The Reverend Chad Kroeger

Somewhere in a Bar in Tallahasee, Florida…

… Kevin enacts a Bukowski fever dream without the fever, the dream, the wit, the creativity, the introspection, the literary tradition, nor any form of poetic decantur.

But, as a substitute for cruelty tinged introspection that resonances of the spiritual crisis of life, hey, Jager shots.

Pinky Tuscadero Jumps the Shart

I’ll take “Alcoholic Dysfunctional Hot Chicks Named Ashley and Kelly Who Hang Out With a Toolshed Named Manny” for $800, Alex.

And yes, those curves make me want to sing harmonic resonance from the top of a subaltern hillside wearing only a burka and several prominent crystal scrotal beads that were bedazzled to said scrotum by an Indian merchant named Kapur.

"Are you The Gatekeeper?"

I don’t know about you, but this HCwDB version of the Ghostbusters scene where Zuul meets Vinz Clortho is all sorts of wrong.

I hereby object to remaking any more classic 1980s movies in a contemporary milieu.

Unless that film is “Just One of the Guys” and features CGI young Sherilyn Fenn.

Leisure Suit Lenny Gets Sexy with April

Leisure Suit Lenny’s stylin’ leisure suit gives special resonance to his ironically delivered “can you see yourself in my pants?” joke. April giggles politely. Because she has student loans to pay off.

Tense Guy Who Points At or Near Boobs Guy

I believe it was Salvador Dali who once said, “Tense Guy Who Points at Or Near Boobs Guy… The Fish!”

Or maybe that was this guy.

I keep forgetting. Was it when the Modernists and the Surrealists met the DaDaists by leaving an Impression, and then they all went over to the Abstract Expressionists and kicked them in the the Pop Art Postmodern balls? Or did they all just take a dump on pretentious douchey posts that occur when the DB1 had weird dreams about alpacas and had too many HoHos and can’t think of anything to write?

The fish.

Retro Hollywood: Iron Boy and a Pony

Last night’s Bro Hitler pic made my Jewy ass feel guilty about pulling a Godwin. So I took it down. Because Dayenu.

So instead, here’s a pic from the late 80s or early 90s of Iron Boy with a Pony.