Comment of the Week
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Saturday, March 3, 2012
Comment of the Week: Doucheywallnuts
The great Douchey W. was on a tear this week, and wins the coveted Comment of the Week with this simple defense of the Rat Pack in the Sheboygan thread:
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The Rat Pack never hung with the porn biz schevotzes. Although Sammy was known to pop the eye out after he had had one too many Manichevitz’s. Another point of note, he did not share the gift that his people are known for, if you catch my drift. And I ain’t talkin’ about his sense of rhythm.
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The debate about potential Rat Packbaggery began in last week’s discussion of historical proto-douches, but let me set the record straight: The Rat Pack was never douchey. Ever. Partying in Vegas, perhaps. Scoring tons of ladies, most definitely. Alcoholism and too much red meat? Absolutely. None of which is douchey.
50s douchebaggery locates in the greasers, mods, and rockers. Not the Rat Pack.
So let it be written. So let it be done.
Saturday, February 25, 2012Comment of the Week: Dude McCrudeshoes
From yesterday’s Tony Tentatively Makes the Rocker Horns for Melodie thread:
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Somewhere in Tony’s past is a whitewashed baby crib with layer upon layer of toxic lead paint. Today, due to deterioration in fine motor skill, Tony can barely make the rocker horns. It’s a heartbreaking condition. That’s why I ask you to give generously to the MPRA: the McCrude Prosthetic Rocker Horn Association. Your generous gift of $1000 dollars or more, or your generous donation of the sexual services of a barely legal quartasian, can help provide Tony with a lifelike hand that, through the use of space age titanium joints and lifelike silicone skin covering, can make Rocker Horns, the Shocker, and even the Spocker a reality for Douchebags like Tony.
McCrude Prosthetic Rocker Horn Hands are available in white, orange, and even darker orange.
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Saturday, February 18, 2012Comment of the Week: Medusa Oblongata
Resident gorgon M.O. takes down the rich asswipe that is Z and wins the coveted HCwDB of the Week:
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Possibly the greatest pleasure I could have all day would be to walk past him, and with a deft and angry flick of my wrist, flip that drink up in the air and splatter him in cranberry puss cocktail. And as he stood there, gasping, his white outfit now sloppily tie-dyed red, I’d look back, lock eyes with him and growl, “That’s for being a twat.”
Twatterflies
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Saturday, February 11, 2012Comment of the Week: Champagne Katie
While she didn’t gain entrance into our hallowed Hall of Hott, Champagne Katie did win something out here. The Comment of the Week:
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Lol!!!!!!:D! Thanks for the good and bad comments, I love you all!!!:* if you like me or not it doesn’t matter:) at the end all that matters to me is those who care about me… Nancy thank you:) your awesome!!! And I’m sure you all are amazing as well!!!
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Yes. We are all amazing.
Unfortunately, too many ‘bag hunters protested Bleethdom as a disqualifying factor. And while I probably would’ve voted yea for the initial pics alone, ‘twats not to be.
Up next week… Tiny Dancer Maria?
Saturday, February 4, 2012Comment of the Week: Purple punguine
Short and sweet, Purple punguine sums up American Scrotewank at its purest fraudulence in the Whole Lotta Shite thread, and wins the coveted Comment of the Week:
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As a former soldier and a combat vet to boot, am I the only one who finds the wannabe Dogtag bling offensive?
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No. No you’re not, P.P. You are most definitely not the only one.
But since the illustrative pic has no hotts, this one’s for you, P.P.
Or perhaps I should say those two are for you.
Saturday, January 28, 2012Comment of the Week: Choad the Douche Sprocket
Choad the Douche Sprocket reflects on Fraternity life in the Lena’s Cry For Help thread and wins the coveted HCwDB of the Week:
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I wasted 2 1/2 years of my youth in a fraternity… and outgrew them before I was 21.
Everything about them was social Darwinism in action, a race to the bottom with a bunch of good ole boys destined to remain that way until called to that great bourbon distillery in the sky.
If any Sigma Nus from Vanderbilt University in the early 70s are reading this, you were a bunch of racist, sexist, drunken, stupid, fratbags then… who, I’m sure, have raised a bunch of stupid, red-state, sexist, alcoholic, know-nothing, fratbag, future middle-managers now…
…just the sort Lena (above) enjoys breeding with.
Her cry for help is more hollow than a Kanye West apology.
Santorums
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Saturday, January 21, 2012Comment of the Week: Charles Douchewin
Charles Douchewin provides an exellent deconstruction of the process of librarian hott determination and wins the coveted Comment of the Week:
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Identfications based on singular variable traits can be erronious.
Identifications based on multiple concordant traits, that are consistent with a type, are more reliable.
For example: Alone, each of the Village People could easily be interpreted as a policeman, biker, indian, construction worker, army recruit or cowboy.
However, when they all sing and dance together on stage, I tend not to be confused about their true profession.
Also, appearances can be unreliable indices of character – except, of course, for the Gynochin.
In the case DB1 proposes here, one need only talk to the douche/bleeth in question to see if their responses are consistent with their appearance.
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Saturday, January 14, 2012Comment of the Week: Dude McCrudeshoes
Recent Hall of Mock enshrinee Dude McCrudeshoes wins the Comment of the Week with the following poetic Gothic zombie narrative responding to Atlanta Herpstery:
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As moonlight creeps through the few scattered scratches in the blacked-out windows, McCrude paces the floor of his Black Cathedral. Ethereal wisps of grey smoke waft up from the reagents scattered across an alchemical table, never quite dispersing. A pentagram is carved deeply into the black wood. Amidst the items set upon the table, eyes float sightlessly in yellowing viscous liquids, course black hairs smolder in a shallow stone bowl, while other malign substances give of the portentous rancor of corruption.
Opposite the table, a curiously large leather-bound tome sits open on a podium of rough-hewn oak. The leather is haphazardly stitched and still smells sourly of the animal, if it was indeed an animal, from which it was taken. A few hairs remain in the leather as well, and if you were brave enough to look closely, you might find the merest hint of a tattoo. The pages of the open book are indecipherable. Odd diagrams are composed of interlocking circles and arcs, with a tight looping script marching along each circumference, inside and out, like ants on a hill. In the margins another hand, though still unintelligible, has made notes in dark brownish-red ink.
Between the podium and the table is a box. A coffin. It is so old the pine slats that it was once made from have caved in upon themselves. Between the decaying slats you can glimpse white bones and scraps of blue fabric.
McCrude stops his pacing and begins to speak directly to the coffin on the floor. “Sherman,” he whispers, “I have a task for you. They have rebuilt Atlanta…”
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Saturday, January 7, 2012Comment of the Week: Mr. Scrotato Head
From Kim’s Tag of a Rocker Horns Douche comes our first Comment of the Week of the New Year:
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Somewhere in Hoboken that’s an 18-month old standing up in a crib that was recalled several years ago, staring down at the half-empty bottle of curdling milk lying on the floor. He doesn’t cry anymore because the One with the soft voice never responds and the One with the hard voice makes it hurt when he does. So he stands there, the weight of his sodden diaper pulling it down nearly to his knees, sniffing back tears, knowing that at some point the One with the soft voice will eventually stumble in, start crying herself, pick up the putrid bottle, and put it in his mouth before staggering of to have a shouting match with the One with the hard voice.
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Episode One, Season Two, “The Real Chicks-who-were-hot-in-high-school-and-thought-their-looks-would-earn-them-a-cushy-life-with-a-hot-guy-but-who-now-have-to-strip-to-pay-the-rent-and-feed-their-bastard-children of Hoboken”
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Saturday, November 26, 2011Comment of the Week: Anonymous
The everpresent Anonymous brings the one sentence historical quip in the “Would You Like to Buy Some Timeshare in Acapulco?” Thread and wins the coveted Thanksgiving HCwDB Comment of the Week:
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Her stare could make Khrushchev put his shoe back on.
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