Douchie Awards
-
Tuesday, January 12, 2021
The Dao of Samurai Scrote and Sexy Sequin Hott
Many moons ago, when mocking douchebags and lusting hotts without their consent was still considered an appropriate form of cultural adjudication, an usual thread was born on this website.
A thread that has since become legend. And by legend, I mean the spikey, yellow and greasy kind. The kind you never really forget, no matter how many years of therapy your Aunt Sarah pays for.
I speak, of course, of two of the most important icons of early twenty-first century art, philosophy, alchemy, and pedantry, Samurai Scrote and Sexy Sequin Hott.
Not since Bra!! enjoyed a tasty cola beverage, had the HCwDB mockers found poetic inspiration.
S.S.’s preternatural calm, doucheface, Reservoir Dogs suit and absurd mandana held court in the presence of luscious sequined sunshine perfection.
The toxic cohabit was instantly iconic.
When S.S. and S.S.H. first appeared on this page, he was but a hard partying legion of misplaced cool gone choadally sunglasses tie-on-forehead awkward. She was sweet delightful honeysuckle suckle thigh.
Together, they formed… well… a hot chick with a douchebag.
Dozens of comments in the comments thread gradually became hundreds. Hundreds became well over a thousand.
People came from across the land and betwixt the seas to sing the mellifluous praises and mock the rank douchechoadery of the ethereal presence of one Mr. Scrote as he stood in Zen-like repose next to the delightfully tasty, if poorly named, Sexy Sequin Hott.
They won HCwDB of the Week.
They won HCwDB of the Month.
The comments continued. The legend grew. Here’s a sampling of the elegiac praise and poetic chunder as produced by the regulars in voting for the HCwDB of the Month:
clementine of cappadoucha: He is Kihon Douchebag, His yin is choad and he yangs of smeg. There is no beginning, there is no end. Little old men in South East Asia ponder his wankiness to release Taiji energies. I ponder his hottie. Samurai means “To Serve” in Japanese, and he serves poo. Samurai FTW.
Anonymous: When climbing the mountain of poo to ask the chosen one “Which one should I vote for?” he said, “Grasshoppper, close your eyes and experience the douchness. Only when the doucheness enters your mind and cannot be eradicated can you make the proper choice.” After many days I cannot get the image of a Napoleonic, mandana-wearing samurai out of my head. And besides, even though his hott doesn’t have the funbags of the others, I would strangle baby otters with Shamwows just to pick the lint out of the drier used to dry her underwear. The Samurai it is.
douchetoevsky: rock beats scissors, paper beats rock, phils beat rays, samurai scrote destroys shiva, and laughs mockingly at the mere mortals who dare stand against him in opposition, wee wee wee all the way home.
paper or plastic?: Much like a recent election of lesser consequence, the results of this monthly will be celebrated on a global scale and usher in a new douche order. Samurai in a landslide.
douchepac shakur: Samurai Scrote is subtle. Samurai Scrote is genuine. Samurai Scrote is rage. Samurai Scrote is Monthly.
jonezy: samurai scrote because he is the everyman’s douche. There is a samurai scrote in all of us- we are all one, yet all of us are douchey in our own singularity. Like a katana blade to the face, Samurai Scrote slashes deep beyond my flesh and reveals the true nature of douche within me.
crucial head: I was once a non-believer in Şǻmǚřǽ Ŝcrœtə. An infidel, if you will. My miniscule mind simply could not comprehend the possibility of a power that exceeded the limits of rational consciousness. But alas, dear brothers and sisters, those foolish thoughts were vanquished the night Şậmΰѓǽ ♀♂ made a personal visit to my bedroom.
The non-disclosure agreement Ŝαmu®åï made me sign renders most of the details from that night moot. But, I have been mercifully allowed to say that it involved bacon grease, a rack of lamb and a lamp. When all was said and done, I had asked the §äмứѓǽ into my heart and he had washed me free of all doubt.
Crucial Head’s conversion spoke for all of us ‘bag hunters in those heady prepubescent days of miracle and wonder.
The site continued to mock new hott/douche cohabits.
But the Samurai Scrote thread continued to grow.
Mr. Scrote even joined us again for an epic Friday Haiku a few months later.
S.S. was so inspirational, he even produced this Garbage Pail Kid inspired fan art:
And yet…
Alas…
Alack…
Aladeen…
When HCwDB was transferred to a new server in 2011, while your humble narrator fumbled once again to figure out the technology that makes this series of tubes work, all comments threads were lost.
Just as the Daoist monks construct intricate sand paintings, only to blow them back to dust, so too did Samurai Scrote’s thread disincorporate into the unconscious ecotone.
And yet.
On some voluminous transcendental chrono-synclastic infundibulum, S.S. lives on.
In each of us. In our hearts. In our minds. In our uvulas.
Whenever we lust a hott, Sexy Sequin is there.
Whenever we mock a choad, Samurai Scrote’s face remains expressionless.
For wherever he wanders today, Samura Scrote’s Zen transcends.
For it is here, in this very expression of expressionless whereby we find the sound of one hand clapping. Sisyphus pushing Cookie Puss up Xenu’s Paradox. The silly mandana makes no sound as the tree falls in the forest alone.
Buddha’s belly burps Samurai Scrote with every gurgle.
For herein is the universal om. The chord that pleased the lord. The digeridoo of regurgitative poo that reverberates across our collective phantasms.
It is here that we contemplate all that is and all that ever will be.
And within such contemplation, the loss and erasure of that which came before becomes, seemingly paradoxically but actually quite logically, the only truly marker of the universal eternal oneness where lies Hashem.
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Douchiest Celebrity Couple of the Year: Ryan Lochte and Carmen Electra
Sadly, because your humble narrator is a lazy-ass slacker, we didn’t get to do the Douchie Awards this year.
But yeoman Vin Diesel refused to go gently into that good night, and submits the following:
———-
Celebrity Douchebag Couple 2013
A slow year for celebrity hookups. Of course Bag Virus Patient Zero, Hall of Fame All Star Richard Grieco made a splash with incredible poo-like art, but alas, no Bleeth on his arm. Mylie, Taylor , Katy, Kim all made splashes with their incredible lack of taste in Alphas.
On the sports side, asshat and NHL pest Dion Phaneuf hooked up with a chick that every dick (Yes I’m looking at you Sean Avery) cheap shotting , tough guy wannabe pro hockey player has seemed to have bedded: the once spectacular, but hopelessly Bleethed out Elisha Cuthbert.
Cable reality shows poured out the nimrod parade in a never ending battle to disgust us and TMZ continued to be the most annoying claptrap our sweet flat screens display in digital full color 7.1 Dolby surround sound. However, I await the breaking of the story of the inevitable and comforting news of Justin Bieber’s Malibu cliffside fatal car crash like a dog hearing the can opener, head tilt and all.
But I digress.
Some examples for our Douchiest Couples list were Chad and Avril, Porn twits James Deen and Stoya, Tom Cruise and delicious Ginger Laura Prepon (NSFW boobies), Matt Kemp and Khloé Kardashian and Chad Michael Murray and Nicky Whelan (he of the short lived marriage to delicious dream girl Sophia Bush and Nicky from one of the greatest peek-a-boo wet shots ever)
Let’s open the envelope.
Let’s face facts folks, no one is a bigger moron and douchebag than Ryan Lochte. His reality TV showed featured the most vacuous, idiotic brainwork of perhaps the most clueless human alive. Imagine my delight when word of his hookup with fellow Mensa, Carmen Electra was sporned.
Ryan is all that’s wrong with celebrity in these modern times. Carmen is a toxic throwback to the days of silicon jigglies equating to interesting matters of dire concern , the wastoid ’90’s. Here’s a toast to this year’s winner/losers : Ryan, may you rip an ab muscle flexing in a mirror and Carmen, someday, maybe after shower #1,000,000 , you may finally rid yourself of the stench of Dennis Rodman’s groin cheese. CHEERS!
———
Oh, and Happy New Year!!
Wednesday, December 4, 2013Reader Mail: Jacques Doucheteau Hands out the First 2013 Douchie Award
Master thespian Jacques Doucheteau sums up HCwDB’s current state in Monday’s Hanz and Brigitte comments thread:
————–
In fact, let’s just get the 2013 Douchies out of the way right now since I know it’s not going to happen this year (Lesson for all you single guys out there, this is what having kids will do to you. Shattered dreams and ruined aspirations clouded by the instinctual urge to devote your entire existence caring for a diseased little human grub that pukes on you, doesn’t know how to sh!t in a toilet, and once it learns how to do so will tell you to go f@#k yourself and leave home, only to return with a little sh!t grub of its own that you’ll be taking care of half the time because “I gotta go to work and Rob’s being a dick and f@#king some skank so I’m not letting him have the little brat this week”, and will still stick your aging ass in some sh!t-cheap old-folks home because they don’t feel like wiping your ass once you can’t control your bowels anymore, so you’re left to die in a puddle of your own piss and septic bed sores while they argue with their siblings about who gets your TV).
Uuuhhhh… where was I? Oh yeah. I know officially kick off HotChicksWithDouchebags.com 2013 Douchies!!!! (applause)
Every Category: Hanz, aka The Prince of Pompoos
There you go. See you all again next year for the 2014 Douchies, which will consist of no entries, no finalists, and definitely no amusing quips in the comments section. Just a couple of us old diehards refusing to let the poor old site die an honorable death as we hark back to the “good old days” of 2008-2010, when the Samurai Scrote thread topped 10,000… when Sergeant Scrote Stain would grace us with his witty observations and one liners… when Dicy showed us a picture of her cotton panty clad ass… when Medusa DIDN’T show us a picture of her ass… and when the peeing in horses jokes were still funny.
I’m going to bed, f@#k you all.
———-
All accurate. And scathing in all the proper ways. Good work J.D.
HCwDB may not be the arbiter of cultural influence that it once was. But we carry on my wayward sons (and daughters).
And on the bright side, there’s this. The war continues. I may not do the Douchie Awards this year because I’m a lazy slacker. But the mock will continue. Oh yes.
Saturday, December 22, 2012HCwDB of the Year: Sleepy Jerkenstein and Cindy
In a shocking upset, the unholy alchemy of hott and douche that is the disgrace that is Sleepy and Cindy took down the powerhouse pro-douche force that is Benzino and Pear.
But this is as it should be, and justice was served.
While Kusseus Vomitorious and Margaret were ab-ripping inanity, and Benzino’s rancid DJ tattbaggery fondling hotts was all that Las Vegas diarrhea spews on our culture, none cohabited in (im)perfect dialectic quite like Sleepy/Cindy.
Factor in their contribution to the HCwDB Art Show in 2023 in “Innocence and Poo Face,” and we have ourselves a yearly winner, kids.
Some of the thoughts from the voters:
Blind Squirrel: Sleepy looks like a piece of scratch paper you use to get a pen working again.
Charles Nelson Doucheley: Sleepy has had this award written all over his face ever since he first appeared here.
Mr. Biggs: Sleepy’s mindless philosophizing haunts my brain.
The Douchey Dozen: Sleepy/Cindy. Because it is written. On his face.
Morbo: These two are what HCwDB should be. Wholesome Cindy, whose perfect auburn hair inspires soft melodies. Sleepy, whose face reminds me of the margins of my ninth-grade algebra notebook.
Duck Duck Douche: Sleepy Jerkenstein and Cindy. Because protecting Cindy from Jerkenstein is why we’re here.
Douchble Helix: look at that sack of shit, Sleepy. Clueless, but original. And a great hott. All three are (un)worthy. But Sleepy commits, motherf@#kers. And you can’t sleep that shit off.
There it is. Although all three may end up in the Hall of Scrote when all is said and done.
Ladies and germs, here’s your 2012 Douchie Awards:
Douchiest Hair: Mickey the Polyp
The Ricky: Sweaterman Twists
Douchiest Doucheface: Mongor
Hardiest Hardy: This Guy
Jerziest Jerz: Arturo, Skinny Kathy, and a Dirty-Ass Door
Douchiest Family: The Tapoutskys
Douchiest Facial Fung: The Craptastopher
Most Euro Eurobag: Brobot
Douchiest Pepsi: Alissa’s Pepsi Challenge
Herpsteriest Herpster: Braden the Metalworker
Best Golden Globes #1: Sonya
Most Expensive First Date Hott: His-name-is-Huang-But-Call-Him-Joe’s Roxanne
‘Bag Most Likely to be a Lesbian in Drag: Bernie
Smells Like Poo: Crotchos
Most Impending Sign of Nuclear Scrotocalpyse: Cartoon America
Peariest Pear: Spindarella Pear
Douchiest ‘Bag Innovation: Place to Store Your Cigarettes #42
Greatest Hottie Development: The Side-Boob Cleavite Dress Reveal
Golden Globes: Sheertina
Douchiest Ruiner of Sapphic Love: Guy Who Ruins Pics of Hot Chicks Making Out Guy
Douchiest Celebrity Couple of the Year: Kanye/Kardouchian
Orangest Orange: Orangudan
Best Golden Globes: Globes For All!
Hottest Hott #1: Jenny From The Sci-Fi Poobags
Hottest Hott #2: Vespa Hott From Lord Helmet and Vespa Hott
The ‘Bagling: Eurotimmy
The Yellowtail: Mr. Tibbs
Greatest Crisis of Modernity: Gettin’ Swole. Son.
The John Largeman: Wise Black Man Howlin’ Cat
The Irving Thallbag Lifetime Achievement Award: Xenu
Be sure to peruse some of these awards, especially the ones written by the regs, as there’s some fine mock in there.
And for our hallowed Hall of Mock let us welcome the following Class of 2012:
douche equis
Capt. James T. Douche
Charles Nelson Douchely
THEONETRUEDOUCHE
Merle Baggard
ehcuodouche
Franklyn DealorNo Doucheifelt
Charles Douchewin
FredN.
Ol’ Dirty Douchebag
Congrats to you all for services rendered in the art of douche mocking and hott lusting. There were many more on the list of finalists, so you should all toast your induction with a sip of the ole’ Night Train via URC.
Lets also welcome Tiny Dancer Maria to our hallowed Hall of Hott.
And if you appreciated the 2012 Douchies, help support the site by checking out, and buying, some cool shit on Amazon.
Do it.
Rock the boat.
2012 Douchies out.
Friday, December 21, 2012The Irving Thallbag Lifetime Douchechievement Award: Xenu
Joey Porsche. The Gator. Fish Slap. Donkey Douche. King Douchuous the IV. Smoot.
And now Xenu.
The last of the Douche Legends from the early days of HCwDB earns eternal (in)glory as forever an icon of primal and epic scrotebaggery.
Let us not forget this epic Douche Warlord of Scientology Lore for its first appearance on this site back in March of 2007.
Further ridiculousness in presence of hotts appeared over the years, including this heinosity. And this one. And this one. Or this one. Heck, for more just check Xenu’s pics in the Hall of Scrote.
No tattet up oily behemoth has quite smelled like Xenu over the years.
And for that, we (dis)honor him with a well deserved 2012 Irving Thallbag Lifetime Achievement Award.
Well done, Xenu. Now put Tom Cruisebag down.
(Running a bit behind with all these awards, but the HCwDB of the Year is coming up next… either tonight or first thing tomorrow…)
Friday, December 21, 2012HCwDB at the Guggenheim in 2023
As many of you know, HCwDB’s crucial role in transforming understandings of art by reclaiming the image through a self-reflexive, post-postmodern rubric will eventually be acknowledged by the academic and literary canon. This will culminate with a triumphant art show at the Guggenheim Museum in 2023.
As a result, I am preparing my yearly collections well in advance of this milestone in post-classical digital art.
By naming each piece of reclaimed imagery as art, I am codifying the destabilization of the signifier in the age of digital reclamation.
Of mechanical reproduction.
Of poo.
Along with July’s “The Halo of Avalon,” my notable artistic works from 2012 include:
“Friendly Gathering on a Humid Afternoon Plus Four Prong” (a work co-created with Hermit)
“Jack Smellington and His Korner Kameleons” (co-created with DarkSock)
And of course, one of the most significant works of my career, “Uberbro Meltdown and Pear”
Someday the academy will concede my genius. Until then, I’ll go on scratching myself.
Friday, December 21, 2012The John Largeman Award: Wise Black Man Howlin' Cat
The great Et tu douche? hands out the award for the lurking mocker of all things douche:
———–
For the 2nd year in a row I’m pleased to present to this esteemed audience the John Largeman award for best person, persons or inanimate object in the background. JL, as I refer to him, burst onto to the scene and has since been revered, adulated and an inspiration for all of us in the never-ending mock of DBaggery. So with out further ado I give you the winner of the 2012 John Largeman award.
Wise Black Man Howlin’ Cat, WBMHC follows in the footsteps of JL cause he is as equally disgusted to witness such unnecessary baggery. Clubbaggery in this case. On this ill fated evening all WBMHC wanted to do was don some of his finery, slip on his gators, get out of the house and head out on the town to enjoy a few adult beverages, see what he could get himself into maybe run into some of his old running buddies. WBMHC, a responsible man, hadn’t been out in awhile as he had more pressing business to attend to such as life, family and work. Back in the day he and his boys would head out looking natty from head to toe to enjoy some nightlife, a few cocktails and maybe some good music. Back then it was referred to as a Club, not Da Club, where, depending you might catch a band or a DJ who spun actual vinyl. Seeing as he hadn’t been out in years he was not prepared for the travesty that befell him. Bottle service, autotune voiced music being played via an iPad, and guys wearing garish tee shirts in lieu of actually dressing up or in this case Dbag with pursed lips sporting a laminate signifying supposed VIP status. While he laughed at punks like this what really got him was a hot, young, succulent, alabaster breasted woman such as Adriana being attracted to such nonsense. Had things really changed this much? He thought. Yes it has WBMHC, yes it has and you’re not alone in thinking so. If it’s any consolation WBMHC your obvious look of disgust is felt by us all and for that you have earned the 2012 John Largeman award.
Coming in a close 2nd is Chet Largeman, Photobomber extraordinaire, and contortionist at the sideshow tent for whatever festival this was.
3rd place I give you Dim Nabors, Poor Dim, it’s bad enough he has some elephant man type growth on his forehead, now he has to witness shirtless clubbaggery. At least he has a soul mate in despair further down the bar in pallid Anya.
Honorable Mention:
Dancing drunk chick with levitating URC
————–
Friday, December 21, 2012GREATEST CRISIS OF MODERNITY: GETTIN' CHEMICALLY SWOLE. SON.
DarkSock here, dispensing this year’s G.C.o’M.
Dammit, Boss stole my thunder by posting this photo Saturday under the possibly twinkie-withdrawal induced title of “Most Impending Sign of Nuclear Scrotacalypse”, but no matter. This only reinforces my thesis, like the wholesome fiber and bran of Justice.
In the primordial con-groo-ation that is douchethink, bigger is better. This is of course why ‘bags must be repeatedly reminded and retrained after each lunch break running the till at their Arby’s gig that although a nickel is bigger, a dime is more valuable.
If a C-cup is good because it gets attention, well hot damn it stands to reason that a pornesque DDD is double-plus-good. Right? If pleasingly firm biceps are desirable, then hormone-swollen limbs that thwart wiping one’s anus without audible grunts is The Bomb.
As long as douchebags lust for the “TIT” in “Titillation and bleethes pine for the “COCK” in “Peacocking” then these unholy couplings of amplified freakish meat-sacs will continue…these lost souls will endeavor on past midnight to the baleful throb of club beats to make and break sexual alliances like lost socks tumbling in the Coin-Op Dryer of Oblivion ensconced in the vast Laundramat of Despair and Poo. This confluence of bulbous external sex organs and swole beach muscles can be evinced writhing in sweaty club hook-ups in pee-stink cave-echo-sultry bathrooms; lolling teats, chemically distended tumescent abs and Raisinette™ testes lubed by hair gel and Preparation H, emitting an unholy balloon-squeak symphony like Satan’s Crickets in the Bait Shop of Hell.
And they do this not only shamelessly, but proudly; wagging their yogurt hoses and flapping their silicone fortified dairy bastions at polite society like so many lewd KY-encrusted party favors…because their cartoonishly exaggerated flesh, good for maybe another decade or so, is their currency and worth. So reasons their room-temp IQ narcissist minds.
They simply do not comprehend that they are the Nickels. And just like Weekend Hulk here at his weekday Arby’s register…it is up to society to make change.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
The Yellowtail: Mr. Tibbs
The Yellowtail Douchie Award, also known as The Oldbag, goes to the creepiest old scrote macking on the young hotts of the year.
This award invariably produces its share of heroism and anti-douche applause. For most people, simply witnessing any old geezer keeping his saggy sack in the game and getting his mack on in his senior years is worthy of applause and appreciation.
Oldbags of note this year include:
Greybeard sins against Nature.
The generic Vagitarian.
The creepy Vegas Olddog and Olddog with Pear.
The uber annoying Bronzer McTwat, also known as Mister Asswhiffer.
Narm.
The ancient Tony Cappacino.
The douche-face of Gozer the Fondler.
And Vinny the Crabs Guy who definitely earns his nottadouche and tasty crab snack.
The biggest competition for the Yellowtail award has to go to either Oldbag Harold or Oldbag Ralph, both of whom are odious sucks of taint in presence of hot chick.
But there was no passing up Mr. Tibbs, showing his nieces his fine corinthian leather back in January.
A lotta Oldbags last January. I don’t know what was going on then.
Thursday, December 20, 2012The 'Bagling: Eurotimmy
The competition was fierce, but Eurotimmy was a heavy favorite to win the category. It’s like when you bet on the Superbowl and Tom Brady’s facing Peyton Manning. Some events are preordained.
But there was much competition, including Douchewanks Saying What, Melvin Finkelstein, and The Gloumpa, Timmy Bowtie, none were more ‘baglingesque (Bieberesque?), than January’s Eurotimmy macking on Eastern European Leyona.
A hearty Douchie Award to this barely pubsecent nascent European pudwack.
And may we bomb Dusseldorf as we once did Dresden. And by bomb, I mean ban all dubstep for a 48 hour detoxifying period.
