Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

Happy Halloween from HCwDB!!

BOO!!

EDIT: Apparently upset at this revival mocking of Closet of Poo enshrinee The Poopaloompa, someone named Luna posted in the comments thread to offer a defensive justapoopafication:

——
The funny thing about this “douche bag” is that he is one of the kindest people alive today, but none of you take the time to know this. He probably helped get those women into shape, you know, because he is a personal trainer as well as a very successful musician. What have any of you done to better your lives, you know, besides making a website dedicated to putting down other people you know absolutely nothing about. The real douche bag reward belongs to every single one of you on account of being jealous twats.
——

Let us all marvel at the benevolence of this guy. For let he who is without ab crunch cast the first hottie training session.

The Evolution of Hottie/Douchey Cohabit

Hark! Halt!

Put down that greasy/lumpy cig smoking choadtollery cohabit with Sultry Poor Credit Charlotte and listen!

Like Willy Loman, attention must be paid!

Douche with Hott Paradox is now, finally, evolutionarily and Darwinianly explained!

Yes, it all now makes sense.

Chief Dances With Crabs.

Poppa Squatter.

Even this unholy collection of toxic sparrow spittle.

Brazilian Emo Hulk understands. It knew it this entire time.

The answer was simple. The rippling lobsterian torsos of fate are nothing more than the mechanism of deception by which hott is fooled.

I suppose after eight years of this site in its prime, we already knew that. But what the heck. It is good to be reminded once again.

The Manicorn

So Man buns are now a thing.

One that cannot, nay, must not stand. Not with hair band. Nor clip.

Whether appearing on quasi-celebrities or just in classic douchepose selfies, we are witnessing the spread of an insidious follicular blight.

For this douche ooze bridges the generations. An amalgam of hippie nostalgia, metrosexual choadery, and the emergent lumbersexual gender crossing vortex of confusion to produce a giant circular Princess Leia hairpoo.

Lo, the moment is bleak. Enough to make me break my self-imposed HCwDB silence. Not even spiritual appeal to OatesStache can cure my disquiet.

I dub these festions of toxic rot ‘Manicorns.’  For mock is our only hope. It may not stop the onslaught of next-wave ‘Baggery. But it can at least mitigate the cultural reprehension.