Comment of the Week: JeanClaudeVanDouche
From the Hitler Chin thread comes this classic paean to the suckle thigh from JeanClaudeVanDouche, who wins the coveted Comment of the Week:
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I would dance the Macarena in a barbwire thong to “Mr. Babalu” in a ballroom full of Los Zetas while whistling “Dixie” for the scant opportunity to catch a passing whiff emanating from the jeans once worn by pretty next door hotts former gardener Manuel, who held the door open for her on a particularly sunny day in California and she lightly accidentally brushed up against his thigh with her purse. Which incidentally smells of alligator and cherry blossoms.
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Friday Thoughts and Links
I ponder the explosion of masculine faux-piddle across this once great Nation on this Friday.
Tatts of Smellyass continue to breed like douchebunny.
Hair remains stupid.
The irony has increased, but the Grieco Virus remains.
And of the qualities and relative merits of the Semitic Boobie Hottie Suckle Thigh, I can only cry “Hosanna!” And self-flagellate with an onion.
Los Angeles has been rainy. And your humble narrator has been hard at work on new projects. Doors open. Others close.
The circle of life in the city of sushi and stupid.
Here’s your links:
Your HCwDB DVD Pick of the Week: “Ain’t no rats, you can be sure of that.”
Beware… the homosexuals! Or, as the G.O.P. likes to call it, a 2012 election campaign ad.
The 25 Douchiest Bars in Los Angeles. Should’ve been twenty-six. And Barney’s Beanery should absolutely not be on that list. For shame. Legacy Exemption.
Worst Album Covers of All Time. “All My Friends are Dead” by Freddy Cage for the win.
Britain’s “The Daily Mail” steals a bunch of HCwDB pics for a comedy bit on tanning, doesn’t give HCwDB any credits or link-backs. Yeah, yeah, I know I bitch too much.
If you’ve ever desired to see Peter Pumpin’head in video form teach you how to work out, now’s your chance. No sign of Mary Mammageddon. Thank Tebus.
The Gator would like to sell your some supplements.
The reason your parents are entirely insane.
But you are not here for underlying psychosis of the 1960s. You are here for Pear.
A followup to our Playboy Douche Dater offers quality suckle chomp on this Friday aft’.
Is "The North Face" Clothing Inspiring a Return to 2006-level Doucheyness?
Stephen writes in with the eagle-eyed alert:
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DB1,
The scan I’m attaching is of a card that came with my new shirt from The North Face.
It recommends erecting the “Sun Collar Stand” to protect your neck from harmful sun beams.
I’m fearful that the Greico virus is spreading to even outdoorsy-athletic types, and they’re inventing ways to legitimize collar popping.
Be safe out there!
– Stephen
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Good catch, Stephen. The Grieco Virus mutates in horrifying ways. This appears to be one of them.
Burn the label with butane, and don’t look back.
Friday Haiku
Douchie McDingle
Tongue-tickles Todd’s right lobe plug
Through Kat’s empty skull
Brain sucking douchebags
Horror film or comedy?
Kat says it tickles
— ehcuodouche
Hey gramma, here’s a
pic of my new girlfriend and
her boyfriend. Love, Todd
— Nancy Dreuche
Wait a minute…..huh?
I’m trying to read her shirt;
does it say “FAGAOTH”?
— Wheezer
Vacuous cavern
McDingle yodels Swizz Beatz
Black suit hears ocean
— Vin Douchal
An Entire World of Flush
The douchal signifiers of this stenchy Jackalope and Bleethy Hott Nichole smell like Calcutta in August.
I’m talking flies, rotting dog, and a discarded mound of backwash restaurant trash.
Even the enhanced Cleavite on Bleethy Hott Nichole is not enough to soothe my troubled psyche as it faces a Camus novel worth of taint.
Where's "Pukofsky the Sidekick"?
Somewhere in this pic of Rich McPudd and his Paid-to-Go-To-Dinner-And-Have-His-Kids hott, Kimberly, I’ve carefully hidden Pukuofsky the Sidekick.
Look closely.
We all had one in college.
No one actually is Pukofsky the Sidekick. We all just know one.
Can you find him?
Bonus points for funding Mildly Confused Manny.
"Yo Quero Taco Boob?"
Because dated references to mid 2000s advertising slogans are what passes for creativity with the DB1 these days.
Time to call in the SuperBros.
Yech.
Lets counter that with Champagne Katie and a Bunny.
Ahhhh… much better.
Caption This Pic
“Leitmotif,” a small experimental theater troupe from Glasgow, Scotland, found a little success when recreating a rare version of the Garden of Eden story as depicted in a Gnostic Scroll found in a cave in Jerusalem in 1923.
Try #2:
Danny and Carla both discovered they like to deep-throat bananas.
Yeah, that’s better.
Reader Mail: Report from Douche Mecca
Capt. James T. Douche beams in with a report from Douche Mecca:
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Hey DB1,
Nice to see you back hope you were relaxing with whatever you were doing wherever it was at.
So I decided to travel out to Vegas, I usually go 2 or 3 times a year to enjoy the desert, gamble and dine at some fancy resturants and generally enjoy time away from work and the midwest.
I tried to snap a few pics of the countless bags and Bleeths that are crawling, lurching and puking their way about town, alas I was hardly successful as I only was able to capture 2 pics that are even remotely worthwhile.
As it turns out it is rather difficult to snap pictures of someone without them knowing even in a place like Las Vegas. Anyways well if these are of any use, have at it.
Regards
Capt. James T. Douche
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Real-world first person tagging is no easy thing, CJTD, so your work is well appreciated. Vegas is filthy fun, and the douchebags with hot chicks both make the city what it is, and need to be fumigated with late 1980s Agent Orange.
May all of your giggle hotties have been drunk, and may your Aces have been split. Wait, that sounds vaguely inappropriate.
