Reader Mail
-
Thursday, August 20, 2015
Reader Mail: Australian Shane Warne is a Cricketdouche
Despite the retirement of HCwDB from the public discourse, Aussie Pete demands that the mock continue by calling out some foreign sports playing tool with an extremely douchey haircut by the name of Shane Warne.
———–
DB1,
Would love to see you break into the world market, mocking the detritus that washes up on the shores of the world.
Warnie is an Aussie Douche, par excellance.
Redeeming features:- Best cricketer of the modern era, stole Elizabeth Hurley from the Four Weddings & a Funeral Dude, has rooted lots of chicks, et al.
Douchey features:- Look at him.
His crowning glory is the ultimate pool party painting.
– Aussie Pete
—————
I have no clue who this clown is. But since he stole the lavicious and lascivious Liz Hurley from that dude who starred in Lair of the White Worm, I will temporarily cast off my hermetic hiatus for a brief mock.
This pathetic pudtwiddle of twaddling pudwankery is the definition of douchebro.
I could spend a fortnight simply mocking his posture.
But that is not the purpose of this post.
The purpose of this post is to marvel at the genius that is Warne’s unbelievably ridiculously garish wall art. Not since Jeff Koons sculpted Michael Jackson and Bubbles or the rumored Alex Rodriguez centaurs have I been so simultaneously aghast and amazed. This piece of pop horror that apparently took seven years to concoct, may be the douchiest collection of oils in one place since Brian Austin Green switched to decaf.
Thursday, October 9, 2014Reader Mail: Military ‘Bag Hunter carries on the Good Fight
An old friend of HCwDB checks in:
——
Good day to you DB1!
So as I was browsing the internet this afternoon I got reminded of your site. Not having been on it in a very long time I decided to scope it out and see the horrible photos of douchewanks that I enjoy mocking so much as they make complete asses of themselves in front of scantily clad women.
As to my surprise and with a bit of sadness I see that you have more or less retired from the daily heckling of these turds and have decided to move onto bigger and better things. For that I salute you, because every good thing must come to an end. BUT as I read through your story about the website itself I came across where you mentioned that you started to get a following of soldiers and posted this link.
Well sir, the person who sent you that mail was none other than me almost five years ago. I completely forgot I even sent it to you, and I am honored that you would put that link up as part of your personal story of the website. As an update to you and the others who wished me a safe deployment I will tell you that I survived my 12 month combat tour in Afghanistan unharmed. I returned home to my friends and family, and continued my mission to rid the earth of douchebags. these following years I became a private contracted soldier and fought Somali pirates all across Africa. And as the icing on the cake in my battle against baggery, last year I worked as stage security for Jerry Springer tossing shitbags around a stage for their idiocy. I have included a picture as proof of my ongoing mission.
Thank you for your website and thank you for reading this.
Regards
Military Bag Hunter
——
Good to hear from you again, MBH, and let me offer you a hearty salute and welcome home. I am pleased as Ponch to see you bring the good douchemock to the heart of Trashbaggery on the legendary Jerry Springer Show.
I am also heartened to see the legacy of douchebag mock continue to reverberate in many ways, forms, and wherefores. Now that you’re home safe and sound, MBH, may all of your hotts be of the purest of suckle thigh. And may the grease taint of rankbaggery wash easily off your hands when your work tossing Springerbags is done.
Saturday, February 22, 2014Reader Mail: Cristina's Pic Was Used Without Permisstion
I’m gonna miss these sorts of emails.
————–
From: Cristina
Subject: REMOVE MY PIC!!
Message Body:
PLZ REMOVE MY PIC FROM UR SITE!!
A COPYRIGHT VIOLATION HAS BEEN MADE!!!
We will be forced to get a lawyer and shut down your site!
MY PIC WAS USED WITHOUT MY PERMISSTION
THANK YOU
—————–
Unfortunately, Cristina did not provide any specifics as to which pic she’s referring to.
So here’s a pic of a frog meeting a mouse.
Saturday, January 25, 2014The Gorilla Responds
Last week Gamecockbag wrote in with a lament about his long crush on a bartender hottie who went on to date what he describes as a “gorilla” (pictured here).
Here was Gamecockbag’s initial email:
———
This girl bartended at a bar me and my friends used to frequent.
She quit working there a while ago and we all kind of forgot about her.
She’s now working at a bar around the corner from my house and has apparently gone from nice Southern girl to something resembling a character on the Jersey Shore.
She has also added a “gorilla” or “juice head” as they call them to go along with her new look.
—————
Well The Gorilla has responded!:
————-
First of all, gamecockbag???? Really? Are you the nutsack of a Carolina Gamecock? Makes this post more understandable.
Jealous much ?? You and your boys kept getting turned down when you hit on her, huh? Oh, what? You weren’t brave enough to try and talk to her !!?? What a bitch she is !!
And because a guy works out and builds muscle, he is automatically a juice head?? This coming from a probable fat, snow white, lil gamer boy living in his parents garage.
————–
Interestingly enough, “Fat Snow White Lil Gamer Boy” was also the title of a poem by W.H. Auden.
Thursday, January 16, 2014Reader Mail: The Tale of Milfy Bartender Woe
Reader Gamecockbag writes in with a tale of milfy bartender woe:
————-
This girl bartended at a bar me and my friends used to frequent.
She quit working there a while ago and we all kind of forgot about her.
She’s now working at a bar around the corner from my house and has apparently gone from nice Southern girl to something resembling a character on the Jersey Shore.
She has also added a “gorilla” or “juice head” as they call them to go along with her new look. Damn shame.
————
But on the bright side, Gorillabag’s bicep Sanskrit does contain the Zoroastrian prayer for how to bless one’s knife before tanning a lambskin.
So if they’re ever caught in a desert, and need a lambskin properly prepared, they’ll know the blessing.
Just sayin’.
It’s not a likely scenario.
But it is possible.
Tuesday, January 14, 2014Dave's Middle Earth 'bag Tag
Dave writes in with yet another ‘bag tag from the greater Australia/New Zealand area with the following celebutag:
———-
From: Dave
Subject: Down under douchebag
DB1,
What can you do about an obvious douchebag from the far-flung shores of New Zealand who meets every conceivable criterion for a mention on HCWDB? Give him a mention on HCWDB I say!
I give you musclehead meatball third-rate soap opera actor Ben Mitchell and his muscle car, suitably greased up and waxing lyrical about how cycling is for losers.
Enjoy!
– Dave
———-
Brett? Check.
Jermaine? Check.
Murray? Present.
Aussie and New Zealand ‘bags always fascinate me. No matter how greasy and ridiculous they look in chasing the Hotts, they’re always just so damn friendly.
Happy. Grinny.
Is any guy in Australia not the nicest guy in the world? Not glad to meet me? Not willing to buy me a beer and pat me on the back in a friendly but still masculine manner?
Except for this guy. Don’t trust him. Nope. Not at all.
But we should take a moment to appreciate the slavic nordic perfection of Aussie uberhott and “Wolf of Wall Street” star, Margot Robbie.
Thursday, December 26, 2013Reader Mail: Charlie Objects to My Tribute to Al Goldstein
As you enjoy your post-Christmas festivus, the following came over the HCwDB wire.
When the iconoclastic publisher of Screw Magazine died last week at 77, I posted this eulogy, which I thought was pretty fair to who he was.
Reader Charlie disagrees, and then takes issue with my methods of self pleasuring:
———-
Once again you celebrate the looser – the piece of crap you would not want taking pictures of your own wife daughter or mother – but are happy to let victimize someone else.
Your anger and frustration is fueled by your own failure.
Clearly you write like you masturbate in that you have a chronic need to please yourself. Maybe if you were not so certain you know it all you may actually engage and change people – even yourself. Hysterically telling people they are idiots because they believe in God, as you often do, sets a standard that reflects poorly on your own intellectual capacity since the question of who or what created the creator or necessary components of creation are equally subjective to some people; neither science or faith can be absolutely proven by either party. Yet when someone professes faith in a system you reject your protest is so obnoxious and reflexive it becomes clear you are truly pathetic, lost, scared and alone.
A look at your other works makes the view into your vacuous cranium quite clear. Shifting between writing angry and abusive comments about women while offering peaks up their skirts or denigrating soft white targets is easy; living and loving is a bit harder.
I think you are a lucky punk. My guess is in a different time and place, before technology, you would be the mumbling fool, writing on napkins in greasy spoons and talking to himself – wiggling your legs back and forth because you tell yourself you have to go to the bathroom, and maybe you do, but let’s be honest you are really doing it simply because you like the way it feels: CREEP.
————
Absolutely not true. In a different time and place, I would be writing on napkins in clean spoons.
Wednesday, December 18, 2013Reader Mail: Some people at the beach
Reader Kevin works out some issues:
—————
From: Kevin G.
Subject: My sister’s douchebag boyfriend
This guy on the left is a real winner right here, he goes by the name Roach, no joke! He has some half ass tattoo studio and thinks he’s hot shit, HES GOT A FACE FOR RADIO!!!!
—————
It pleases me to no end to know that in today’s constantly updating/trending/morphing ephemeral digital culture, the classic “he’s got a face for radio” insult remains a viable insult.
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.
Tuesday, November 26, 2013Vin Douchal's Suburban Housewife Dilemma Pt. 1
From the Where’s Trevor comments thread comes this gem of a depressing yarn spun by the great Vin Douchal:
———-
Nights of clubbing, Kappa Alpha Theta days at UCLA melt into pop quizes and complexion complexities as Vernon, the solid “C” grade Computation major slides his way into an otherwise innocent life of group poses, bathroom make-up exchanges and pep rallies and Pauley Pavillion ladies room vomit scenes.
An innocent night of jello shooters finds her 6 weeks later peeing on a Rite Aid home test praying, hoping upon hoping the straight line in the little window does not grow a cross hair. Negative? No, positive. Again
All five stages manifest in one stream of anguish, “NO!, Shit!, Please be wrong- I’ll do anything, oh no I’m screwed, Well… five positives can’t be wrong,… time to call dad.”
Showing, glowing back for the Holidays when the high school ex- sees her at the Piggly Wiggly shopping for last minute yams and Coors Light inquiring about college… she cries, falls into his embrace. He tells her he will take care of her , stay here, marry me, I’ll raise the child as if my own. We’ll have others, maybe right away so they can have a little sister or brother… I’ve always loved you more than life itself. I cried when you went to California,… my Kelly, sweet sweet Kelly… they make love in his 4 wheel drive 1500 HD, drying each others tears and gentialia with the same greasy oil rag
Three kids, four years later, the silo manufacturer closes, the corporations snatch up the farms and they’re living in “the extra room” at her parents house all five of them like Mexican pallet families on a sand mountain in Tijuana. No sex, no desire anyway, no quiet time, constant badgering from dad, a baby with colic, a pre-schooler with constantly skinned knees and a toddler wearing opposite sex hand-me-downs ….
In a rare moment when all three kids are asleep and he’s out grousing with his pals, she smiles and in a saturnine, morose moment thinks about a nineteen year old with a fake ID, surrounded by faux-sisters , dapper young men and their will to succeed and the life of her forgotten college friends in their Malibu Zuma classes with designer panini griddles and tremendous Jared wedding rings. She walks calmly to her parents medicine cabinet
She swallows her mom’s month supply of valium and pens a note, ” I’m a failure, I crossed paths with a Douchebag and did not head the warnings,… I’m sorry,goodbye.”
————–
I found the only image I could to counterbalance that depressing tale of woe.
