Existentialism
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Wednesday, October 7, 2015
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.
Wednesday, December 4, 2013Bottle Spray as Phallic Substitute
One of the most bemusing of the rituals of douche culture is the overt sexual sublimation taking place when the alpha male of a given rave/party decides to suddenly spray champagne fluid on all those hot chicks around him.
Like the marking of territory among bonobo chimpanzees, this ritual celebratory spraying of fluid is simply semantic semen, a Dionysian display of performative coitus by the king douche meant to communicate fertility and viability to the larger tribe.
When understood anthropologically, the ritual ceases to symbolize a celebratory moment and becomes very, very silly.
Saturday, October 12, 2013Your Saturday Existentialism
Somewhere, deep in the American soul, there lies a rot.
A spiritual malaise.
A malignant vortex draining the spirit of harmony into a pit of existential despair.
This.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013"Fellini's Sadoucheicon" (1978)
Sorry undergrads, they only screen this one in grad-level classes.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013In Russia, Douche Bag You!
“When Mikeal find time off from guarding gulag, wife Sonja like massively to display her huge tracks of land!” — From an early draft of Maxim Gorky’s 1896 play, “Sonja, Huge Tracks of Land: The Mistaken Proletariat”
Thursday, January 3, 2013The End of All That Is Holy and Decent And The Rise of Douche Satan
And then this happened.
EDIT: Caption This Pic contest in the threads. Top three to be posted this afternoon.
EDIT #2: Your winners:
#5: “What happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas. Except Chlamydia.” — Bag em, Tag em
#4: “Dr. Nick could never remember to put the valve stems on the INside of the chest cavity.” – Dr. Bunsen Honeydouche
#3: “Why can’t I get that hard?” – Dickie Fingers
#2: “As Tommy chomped on Cindy’s right breast she suddenly flew backwards over the horizon with a wet farting roar.” – DarkSock
#1: “With the assistance of a Kevlar banana hammock stretched tightly against his anus, Danny’s falsetto voice could make breasts swell until they burst. To celebrate his achievements, he tattooed on his chest the name of the school where he picked up his unique ability: the School for Wanking Young Donkeys.” – Jacques Doucheteau
Wednesday, November 21, 2012Minigroo Snags Sophia, Wins at the Game of Life
You may now light your genitalia on fire. Reproducing is no longer a worthy endeavor.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012Conceptual Paradox is a Cruel and Ironic She-Bitch
So what if I told you that the Twinkie will likely be saved, but it will now be owned by the icon of herpsterbaggery, Pabst Blue Ribbon beer?
Surely you’re joking Mr. Feynman.
The idea that my once-favorite cheap beer, now coopted by Movember Instagramateurs and rendered fully Beer-Bleeth, could somehow partake in owning my delightful golden vanilla snack cake treat, is a concept too paradoxical to comprehend.
But good news nonetheless, for the Tasty Snack Treat Diet ™ that I’ve patented will likely live on.
Ah, screw it.
Lets get some Lil’ Debbie instead.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012True Love ™
(Still not pictured)
Wednesday, October 10, 2012True Love
(not pictured)
