Esoteric Wednesday
In Japan, little children like to penetrate oranges.
Ask DB1: Doctor Strange
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Hey DB1,
So, is Doctor Strange a douche? I mean, he’s got the popped collar, the Agamotto bling, and the silly hand gestures. On the other hand, he’s rockin’ the ‘stache, he’s got a hot foreign gilfriend, and he routinely saves the sentient beings of our dimension from being hollowed out and used as condoms by Shuma-Gorath. So there’s that, right? What say you, oh Poo-bah of Poo-spotting?
Mock on,
JIM
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Nottadouche. Supervillain Leniency Rule.
Guy Who Most Needs a Moldy Cinnebon To The Face Guy
Jenna and Rachel weren’t aware they were standing with Guy Who Most Needs a Moldy Cinnebon To the Face Guy.
Until I hit him in the face with a moldy Cinnebon.
At least that’s how it plays out in the 3D Imax of my mind.
That’s poetic.
That’s pathetic.
Jenna’s poochacetic.
Herpsterbag LaVar
Aneroxic Models Only, please. Herpsterbag LaVar is too busy D.J.ing to bother with the chunky ladies over a six two.
Where's Future Prescription Muscle Relaxant Addict?
Somewhere in this lineup of paid-to-pose party chomps, I’ve carefully hidden a Future Prescription Muscle Relaxant Addict enjoying his six months of social peak thanks to credit fraud.
Look closely.
Can you find him?
HCwDB of the Month
Your second voting round of 2012. Who will join Grover McPocalypse and Sarah Lawrence Sarah as our next Monthly winning (losing) coupling?
Here’s your finalists:
HCwDB of the Month Finalist #1: Brobot and Curvy Kelly
With a run of brobotic stupidity, including consistent douche-stare and the wrong kind of douche stare, Brobot is a new level of choadal cyborg.
Curvy Kelly is real world tasty, the kind who’d get drunk at a party and consider flirting with you by the retro pinball at the Brooklyn loft Williamsberg port wine party.
Brooklyn. Herpsterland.
But I digress.
Can the Brobotic scroteborg take the prize?
We gots threes more to go.
HCwDB of the Month Finalist #2: The Uberbros and Pear Alice
For sheer spectacle, is there more purity of douche than the Uberbros?
And yes, we have seen them in the past on HCwDB.
But your narrator is far too hung over to keep track of these things after 7000 posts.
So lets call ’em the Uberbros. And mock onward until dawn.
Pear Alice is also purity of fruit chomp.
Together, theirs is a toxic Miami stench.
Purity of Pear should never face hair that douchey.
And by face, I mean face.
At 2am. In a Burger King bathroom.
Moving on.
HCwDB of the Month Finalist #3: Lord Helmet and Vespa Hott
Head.
Large head.
Douchey head.
Greasey head.
The Monkees’ Head. (RIP Davy).
Lord Helmet is classic doucheface.
Vespa Hott is high class most expensive first date hottness.
And as such, deserves both lust and residual anger.
Which is an intoxicating combo.
HCwDB of the Month Finalist #4: The Scruffwad and Jenny Milkshake
Here’s your classic guy-who-beat-you-up-in-high-school ‘bag, along with the taut and tasty Jenny Milkshake.
For real world HC/DB, this is a doozer.
So there’s your four.
On the H.C. side we got Pears and Milkshakes, Expensive Hotts and Curves.
On the D.B. side, Brobots and Uberbros, Heads and Scruffs.
Which cohabit is enough to earn the right to call itself the “HCwDB of the Month?”
Vote, as always, in the comments thread.
Los Douchebagos
In any language, ‘baggery in pursuit of hot chick is universal.
My Kingdom and a tasty Moon Pie to anyone who makes it past 90 seconds.
Comment of the Week: Doucheywallnuts
The great Douchey W. was on a tear this week, and wins the coveted Comment of the Week with this simple defense of the Rat Pack in the Sheboygan thread:
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The Rat Pack never hung with the porn biz schevotzes. Although Sammy was known to pop the eye out after he had had one too many Manichevitz’s. Another point of note, he did not share the gift that his people are known for, if you catch my drift. And I ain’t talkin’ about his sense of rhythm.
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The debate about potential Rat Packbaggery began in last week’s discussion of historical proto-douches, but let me set the record straight: The Rat Pack was never douchey. Ever. Partying in Vegas, perhaps. Scoring tons of ladies, most definitely. Alcoholism and too much red meat? Absolutely. None of which is douchey.
50s douchebaggery locates in the greasers, mods, and rockers. Not the Rat Pack.
So let it be written. So let it be done.
Friday Thoughts and Links
Fwippy glasses make Douchetacula a particularly foul fowl in presence of Rachel the Tiny Red Bull Hott.
Enough to rankle my cupcakes on a Friday.
And by rankle my cupcakes, I mean torture my soul like a thousand psychoanalytic Torquemadas armed with pins, matchsticks, and Perry Como records.
No idea what I’m saying anymore.
Here’s your links:
Your HCwDB Mid 20th Century British Play of the Week: “We had lots of fun, him and me. Being alive, just being alive. That’s enough for an old girl like me. Chewing the cud and having a little of what you fancy.”
Pervy Mugshots from the early 1920s
Remember Snoopy’s brother, Spike? Kinda awesome that a depressed, alienated, stoner hippie wandered into a comic strip.
In 1952, Ernest Hemingway John Steinbeck said everything there is to say about the process of writing.
Do Not Juge Him. Only God will Juge him.
Here’s your Pear:
It is 25% off if you use your Macy’s card.
