Reader Mail: Mr. Champ
Richard writes in with the following tag:
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This is a friend of a friend of a friend who dresses, acts and takes complete douchebag pictures. He is the elusive Afro American douchebag. Yet he doesn’t see it. Here are 2 pics with all his douchebag-isms.
First pic, here he is wearing a head band that says “Mr. Champ” (that is what he calls himself) with a wife beater, True religion jeans and a blinged out “LA” belt buckle. He did not even know these hot white chicks, he just takes pictures to post them on his Facebook.
In the second pic he is wearing a hat that says “Mr. Champ” a Che Guevera shirt (although he doesn’t know anything about the Cuban revolution) a bandana around his neck and promoting a fake hot sauce brand. The hot Asian girl did not even know who he was. What a douchebag!
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New rule: If, when you hit the clubs, you tell the ladies that your first name is “Mr.,” your ballsack smells like fondue.
Frolic in the Jerz Parking Lots
The Jerz Parking Lot Frolic.
Still out there.
Still a depressing existential crisis embodied by lost, wayward youth.
With gelled hair. And time. So much time. Lots and lots of time. To stare into the abyss.
Comment of the Week: Troy Tempest
For sheer creative genius, lets get a Comment of the Week award to the great Troy Tempest for this rant in The Smirkonomous Looks Forward to seeing “Carlos Danger” thread:
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I swear that photo is from 1986. He’s got the greasy post-glam brylcream Rick Astley joins a boy goth band look to him. I can see him sneering there. She’s drunk and thinks that if she can stare at the camera hard enough (she took her contacts out and forgot her glasses) she might make it to the lens. To cover the fact she can’t see a damn thing because she’s (a) myopic and (b) f@##in’ hammered as a couple of Jersey Shore pile driven beach pylons, she figures she’ll pull some magic distraction and practice a vampy over the shoulder look so as to distract the camera from noticing that she has no idea where the camera is. Of course when the flash went off all she could see was Neptune every time she closed her eyes, because Neptune is close to Uranus.
And he’s so completely preoccupied with unknown unknowns that he wants to move to East Berlin and tend his goats, Chuggie, Max, and Doorlock. That’s what the brylcream does to you – it turns you into a kooky grease dump wailing, “PARANOIA! Sing to the Ducks! PANIC! Nothing left for you! “CRUST!”
And when you finally wake up in the WIFI haze of a day well spent and no one wants to talk to you except animal Jesus and his tra la la machine. It’s not so bad when the buzzards don’t act up, but they’re young and dumb and that’s what they’ll do – then, They Spill The Beans.
.
This is the deal: there is no future that is not already in the present – it is our recognition of our world as it has succumbed to the thought virus of property: pull the plug boys, he’s done. And what did you tell me? What did you say? That it’s just a language game _ yes and it is the language games that threaten us today. Retreat! Before it’s too late!
Don’t listen to truth statements – they lie. Speak of the inutterable Dogma of Madness.
The ignorance of madness is the highest and hardest ignorance, because it is the most ‘concrete’ of brutalisms. The significance of that ‘absolute’ commandment, ignore thyself — whether we look at it in itself or under the historical circumstances of its first utterance — is not to promote mere self-ignorance in respect of the particular capacities, character, propensities, and foibles of the single self. The ignorance it commands means that humanity’s genuine illusion — of what is essentially and ultimately curious and imaginary — of madness, is the curious and essential being. Equally insignificant is the purport of crazy dogma to teach what is called the ignorance of people — the ignorance whose aim is to ignore the peculiarities, passions, and foibles of other people, and lay bare what are called the recesses of the human heart. Information of this kind is, for one thing, meaningless, unless on the assumption that we ignore the universal; humanity as humanity, and, as it always must be, as madness. And for another, being only engaged with casual, insignificant and uncurious aspects of a crazy life, it fails to reach the underlying essence of them all — Madness itself.
So don’t talk to ME about your dialectics! Your world is an affective nightmare of missed scents and missing senses. I challenge you – I challenge you all to talk it like you mean it and walk it like you seen it.Because BUTTERLFIES!
Memory is an addiction.
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Friday Thoughts and Links
Do you already hate Mister Tony as much as I do?
Do you realize his clownish antics in presence of hot chicks contains none of the joir de vive we come to associate with the finest of top shelf ‘bags that we mock on this site?
If so, I agree with you.
Mister Tony is hereby banished to the netherlands of nonmock.
No, not even if we wears ridiculous getups like this.
Paid to clown Vegas doucheclowns have no business being on such a classy site as HCwDB.
Oh wait. Yeah, I guess they do.
My standards are as shrunken as a baseball player’s nads.
Here’s yer links:
Here’s an accessory from the life change that’s about to befall your humble narrator.
Forget Weiner. Vote Boner.
Douchey ad campaigns. Still out there.
Amazing article on the early days of Queen and the diva-ness of Freddie Mercury.
I’m pretty sure this is one of my ex-girlfriends.
Jimmy Kimmel exposes Cochella attendees as idiotic herpster posers.
Explaining women in one satirical video clip: It’s not about the nail!
In England, a 14 year old girl Fights the Bleeth.
And then there’s champagne delivered by skydiving. For the idiot who has everything and likes to waste resources.
Okay, you’ve been good. Here you go:
You’re welcome.
Friday Haiku
Captain Rod Nubbins
Keeps flotation devices
Nearby at all times.
Circling the globe
Whilst encircled by the globes
Is the way to go
— DoucheyWallnuts
The question arises,
“does silicone float?”,
let’s sink the boat!
— I R A Darth Aggie
Their boobs are like the
Costa Concordia hull
scraping the bottom
— Dickie Fingers
modern day skipper
with mary ann and ginger
hose on the poop deck
— fm
It’s now obvious
where Carnival Cruise Lines gets
infected state rooms.
— Dr. Bunsen HoneyDouche
Girls do Lido Deck
Since the gyroscope was put
In their Monkey Holes.
— The Reverend Chad Kroeger
Mister Tony Shows Off His Orange Package to the Real Housewives of Suburban Malaise
Yeah. This guy sucks.
Lets move on.
Brothabag Perephone Scores Isis of Nile
Oh, right. This is the one where Perephone the Ancient challenges a hoard of angry Sumerians to a feats of strength, then tricks them using rope and tinderbox, only to win Isis of Nile’s heart after saving a goat from a tree branch.
Don’t worry. You wouldn’t know it. It’s one of the more obscure ancient Egyptian fairy tales.
You know. Like “Ramses and the Disappearing Case of Bud Light.” Or “Hotep Hits on the Mead Wenches.”
Sort of like the SyFy version of the myths of ancient civilizations. They were popular among the underclass, but never really made it to primetime.
Yup. No idea again.
I’m a little slow today, I just switched to Sanka, so have a heart
Bro's Be Pumpin'
Don’t be hatin’.
Actually, wait, yes, be hatin’. That’s the point of HCwDB. Like that famous 80s white, British reggae band, WEBH8N. You know. They had that hit. Yellow Yellow Pabst.
Okay, got nuthin’.
These muscle bros aren’t even that douchey. Except for the blackface, that is.
Bonus points for the first person to find the severed Bleeth carcass hidden somewhere in this image.
Mister Tony Goes Pink with Taut Kelly
If you guessed there’d be more Mister Tony pics this week, you win!!
Everybody’s a winner!!
Have a kewpie doll!!
You Might Be a Doucheneck if…
…you’re this guy.
Jeff Foxworthy, ladies and gentlemen!! How about a hand for Jeff Foxworthy!!
See, I like to mock comedians who rely on one joke premises for their entire careers. Because, uh… oh… wait… dammit.
