retro

    Thursday, January 26, 2012

    Bernie Is In Over His Pay Grade

    In the 80s, this definitely would’ve been a wacky teen comedy starring Jon Cryer, Lea Thompson, and that guy from Die Hard with the pockmarked face as the angry principal, Mr. Fasterbender.

    At least, that’s how it plays out in the 80s in my mind.

    # posted by douchebag1
    Thursday, December 1, 2011

    Creepy Bukowski Fan Asks You If You’ve Ever Read Bukowski

    The correct response to Creepy Bukowski Fan is: “Excuse me, I’m waiting for a friend. Now please do not soil upon my napkin.”

    # posted by douchebag1
    Thursday, November 10, 2011

    Piet Mondrian Suffers in the Afterlife

    From vanguard artistic movement to a douchebag’s shorts in just under a century.

    Next up: 10 Degree Hat Tilt with a bicycle wheel sticking out of the top.

    And yes, this is now officially becoming a trend.

    Is early 20th Century impressionism the new Ed Hardy?

    # posted by douchebag1
    Wednesday, October 26, 2011

    Retro New Wave Wannabe Asswipes

    Still out there.

    Still pretending it’s 1982.

    Still scoring barely legal Confused Purity Laura.

    Still hoping to someday play keyboard with one finger.

    # posted by douchebag1
    Monday, October 3, 2011

    Breaking ‘Bag To the Future

    It’s like a prom photo from a Bizarro 1950s Enchantment Under the Sea dance in which 40 year old douchebags travel back in time to go to prom with their mother, and then end up cooking meth out of a camper before they die of cancer.

    Wait.

    I appear to be mashing up my pop culture references in some Brundelfy-esque clash of contradictory signifiers.

    Lets start over. His chin dribble looks like melted ant raisins. Mama Mary was once very hott, and the echo remains.

    # posted by douchebag1
    Tuesday, September 27, 2011

    “Wiggas And the Pear”

    An excerpt from Shel Silverstein’s lesser known work, “Wiggas and the Pear”:

    —–
    Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me Poo
    Went for a ride in a flying douche crew.
    “Word up!”
    “What fun!”
    “He smells like poo!”
    Said Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me Poo.

    Ickle was captain, and Pickle was Poo
    And Tickle served Red Bull and hip hop stew
    As higher
    And higher
    And higher they flew,
    Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me Poo.

    Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me Poo,
    Over the strippers and beyond the “Woo!”.
    “Hold on!”
    “Stay in!”
    “I hope we do!”
    Cried Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me Poo.

    Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Poo
    Never returned to the world they knew,
    And nobody
    Knows what’s
    Happened to
    Dear Ickle Me, Pickle Me, Tickle Me Poo.
    —–

    # posted by douchebag1
    Thursday, September 1, 2011

    The Unibro

    The Unibro is, how you say, a peemp.

    Not a pimp.

    A peemp.

    It’s like a pimp.

    Only hairier.

    Sanjine and Pritya have curves that make Vishnu high ten Ganesh.

    # posted by douchebag1
    Tuesday, July 26, 2011

    70s Fro Guy Wins at the Game of Post Divorce Life

    You know what’s playing in 70s Fro Guy’s Toyota Prius don’t you?

    That’s right.

    Steely Dan’s Greatest Hits Vol. 2.

    Babylon Sister.

    Shake it.

    # posted by douchebag1
    Thursday, July 7, 2011

    Envyus is Made Out of Plastic, Is Glad to Meet You

    Plasticdouches posing as humans? Pretty sure Envyus was actually a villain from the old Doctor Who.

    Both Katie and Vanessa are candy corn sunshine slappy slap drinks of sex salve carnal carnation butt bouquets, and so I salute their genetic ancestors with the ritual burning of fruitfly incense and awkward tree humping.

    # posted by douchebag1
    Thursday, June 30, 2011

    Jean Jacket Pukoffsky

    Jean Jacket Pukoffsky used to run with a motor cycle gang out of Baton Rouge.

    You know the type. Liked to drink Schlitz by the caseload. Then smell each others underwears like truffle-searching French piglets hopped up on No-Doze.

    Jean Jacket Pukoffksy. Could smell the cough syrup melting on the dashboard of his Hyundai at 2am in the parking lot of a Jack-in-the-Box.

    Used to run with a girl named Daisy. Whose lips were the color of melted Grape-Ape koolaid spilled out the back of a police cruiser.

    Daisy.

    Her legs were long like, thickets of brambleberry hot dogs back to back off a links truck.

    That all ended when an old southern Colonel named Tom McGee got so loaded one Arbor Day that he attempted to milk the Mayor’s chickens, causing the whole town to get quarantined by the C.D.C. over an Asian swine lupus outbreak.

    I never did find that packet of Marlboros again. But I sure did try. I sure did try.

    This post brought to you by “Random Tom Waits Song Lyric Generator.”

    New! From Mattel.

    # posted by douchebag1
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