HCwDB
-
Friday, July 9, 2010
Slick Rick Wears a Headband
Other than the headband, Slick Rick isn’t really noteworthy as an anthropological douchebag specimen.
So why run the pic?
Because I would like to heartily encourage America’s young adult women of quality curviture, like Sophie and Lisa here, to embrace on the dance floor, and slyly fondle each other.
Don’t think of it as faux lesbianism for the male gaze. Think of it as giving back to the larger community.
Friday, July 9, 2010The Brothers Quaylude
Bobby and Danny. The Brothers Quaylude. Matching blowouts and t-shirts.
And lets not forget the sad Sandra Sisters, heading down the dark path of Ed Hardy and semi-employment in nail salons throughout the tri-state area.
Thursday, July 8, 2010Breaking: Area Man Realizes The Onion Sucks Alpaca Testes
The Onion’s “The Chive” once again finds “inspiration” from other sites on the internets.
Not even a link, Onionites? Really?
EDIT: The Chive is apparently not affiliated with The Onion, so apologies to Area Man. Carry on.
Thursday, July 8, 2010Magritte N’est Pas Une Douchebag.
I title this, my latest master work of outsider art, “Magritte N’est Pas Une Douchebag,” to both honor as well as critique the great modernist painter.
While there are no hot chicks to counterbalance this pic in proper HCwDB formulation, the use of spatial isolation functions as a critique of the douche body absent the normative gender roles.
The framing via reflection and the privileging of the apparatus at the moment of capture all suggest an inability to reclaim the artifact in the age of sociological fracture and identity destabilization. While the prominent role of hand sanitizer offers a playful critique of the ultimate greasy and unclean douche plague in all of its manifestations.
This latest work will, of course, be a part of my gallery showing at the Guggenheim Museum in 2023 when my genius for reappropriating images in the age when virtual has superceded actual is finally recognized by the academy.
But, since there are no Hot Chicks in this work of art, have some Snap Pear.
Thursday, July 8, 2010Magritte N'est Pas Une Douchebag.
I title this, my latest master work of outsider art, “Magritte N’est Pas Une Douchebag,” to both honor as well as critique the great modernist painter.
While there are no hot chicks to counterbalance this pic in proper HCwDB formulation, the use of spatial isolation functions as a critique of the douche body absent the normative gender roles.
The framing via reflection and the privileging of the apparatus at the moment of capture all suggest an inability to reclaim the artifact in the age of sociological fracture and identity destabilization. While the prominent role of hand sanitizer offers a playful critique of the ultimate greasy and unclean douche plague in all of its manifestations.
This latest work will, of course, be a part of my gallery showing at the Guggenheim Museum in 2023 when my genius for reappropriating images in the age when virtual has superceded actual is finally recognized by the academy.
But, since there are no Hot Chicks in this work of art, have some Snap Pear.
Thursday, July 8, 2010Live Free or Die Hardy
Question on the floor:
Have we become so inured to the cultural saturation of Ed Hardy douchewear that it no longer rankles us as the societal blight it really is?
Witness Leopold and Loeb here, previously featured in yesterday’s We Are The Sum of the Choices We Make. Normally, they’d be up for extensive mock for their lame macking on Julie and Simona. But in the summer of 2010, we barely blink at their atrocities.
Have we become comfortably numb to the Hardy scrum?
And why am I suddenly typing out trite questions in the form of crude rhymes like warmed over Carrie Bradshaw?
Thursday, July 8, 2010Your Thursday Douche Carrying a Drunk Hot Chick with Taut, Squeezable Legs
But on the plus side, Rite-Aid’s window displays get more and more impressive every year.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010My Roommate the Douchebag
Sometimes a brotha can’t get no relief.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010We Are the Sum of the Choices We Make
A friend of mine once said this to me while we were in college.
We were at a party, witnessing the spectacle of a drunk hottie we both desired to gnaw upon, who stumbled into some bushes. Fell down. And then peed herself.
“We are the sum of the choices we make.”
When the early Christian gnostics began repackaging Judaism for the masses, they understood this simple concept. That the Hebraic ambiguity of a God of indeterminacy could never pack ’em in like the Bruckheimer spectacle of epic battle between good and evil.
Sin and redemption.
Boobies and pink speedos.
Dragon tatts and spikey hair in a club that resembles a red satin insane asylum.
We are the sum of the choices we make.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010Boris
Challo.
I am Boris.
I like, how you say, the boobies?
Thank you.
Have a nice day.
