HCwDB at the Guggenheim in 2023
As many of you know, HCwDB’s crucial role in transforming understandings of art by reclaiming the image through a self-reflexive, post-postmodern rubric will eventually be acknowledged by the academic and literary canon. This will culminate with a triumphant art show at the Guggenheim Museum in 2023.
As a result, I am preparing my yearly collections well in advance of this milestone in post-classical digital art.
By naming each piece of reclaimed imagery as art, I am codifying the destabilization of the signifier in the age of digital reclamation.
Of mechanical reproduction.
Of poo.
Along with July’s “The Halo of Avalon,” my notable artistic works from 2012 include:
“Friendly Gathering on a Humid Afternoon Plus Four Prong” (a work co-created with Hermit)
“Jack Smellington and His Korner Kameleons” (co-created with DarkSock)
And of course, one of the most significant works of my career, “Uberbro Meltdown and Pear”
Someday the academy will concede my genius. Until then, I’ll go on scratching myself.
The John Largeman Award: Wise Black Man Howlin' Cat
The great Et tu douche? hands out the award for the lurking mocker of all things douche:
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For the 2nd year in a row I’m pleased to present to this esteemed audience the John Largeman award for best person, persons or inanimate object in the background. JL, as I refer to him, burst onto to the scene and has since been revered, adulated and an inspiration for all of us in the never-ending mock of DBaggery. So with out further ado I give you the winner of the 2012 John Largeman award.
Wise Black Man Howlin’ Cat, WBMHC follows in the footsteps of JL cause he is as equally disgusted to witness such unnecessary baggery. Clubbaggery in this case. On this ill fated evening all WBMHC wanted to do was don some of his finery, slip on his gators, get out of the house and head out on the town to enjoy a few adult beverages, see what he could get himself into maybe run into some of his old running buddies. WBMHC, a responsible man, hadn’t been out in awhile as he had more pressing business to attend to such as life, family and work. Back in the day he and his boys would head out looking natty from head to toe to enjoy some nightlife, a few cocktails and maybe some good music. Back then it was referred to as a Club, not Da Club, where, depending you might catch a band or a DJ who spun actual vinyl. Seeing as he hadn’t been out in years he was not prepared for the travesty that befell him. Bottle service, autotune voiced music being played via an iPad, and guys wearing garish tee shirts in lieu of actually dressing up or in this case Dbag with pursed lips sporting a laminate signifying supposed VIP status. While he laughed at punks like this what really got him was a hot, young, succulent, alabaster breasted woman such as Adriana being attracted to such nonsense. Had things really changed this much? He thought. Yes it has WBMHC, yes it has and you’re not alone in thinking so. If it’s any consolation WBMHC your obvious look of disgust is felt by us all and for that you have earned the 2012 John Largeman award.
Coming in a close 2nd is Chet Largeman, Photobomber extraordinaire, and contortionist at the sideshow tent for whatever festival this was.
3rd place I give you Dim Nabors, Poor Dim, it’s bad enough he has some elephant man type growth on his forehead, now he has to witness shirtless clubbaggery. At least he has a soul mate in despair further down the bar in pallid Anya.
Honorable Mention:
Dancing drunk chick with levitating URC
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GREATEST CRISIS OF MODERNITY: GETTIN' CHEMICALLY SWOLE. SON.
DarkSock here, dispensing this year’s G.C.o’M.
Dammit, Boss stole my thunder by posting this photo Saturday under the possibly twinkie-withdrawal induced title of “Most Impending Sign of Nuclear Scrotacalypse”, but no matter. This only reinforces my thesis, like the wholesome fiber and bran of Justice.
In the primordial con-groo-ation that is douchethink, bigger is better. This is of course why ‘bags must be repeatedly reminded and retrained after each lunch break running the till at their Arby’s gig that although a nickel is bigger, a dime is more valuable.
If a C-cup is good because it gets attention, well hot damn it stands to reason that a pornesque DDD is double-plus-good. Right? If pleasingly firm biceps are desirable, then hormone-swollen limbs that thwart wiping one’s anus without audible grunts is The Bomb.
As long as douchebags lust for the “TIT” in “Titillation and bleethes pine for the “COCK” in “Peacocking” then these unholy couplings of amplified freakish meat-sacs will continue…these lost souls will endeavor on past midnight to the baleful throb of club beats to make and break sexual alliances like lost socks tumbling in the Coin-Op Dryer of Oblivion ensconced in the vast Laundramat of Despair and Poo. This confluence of bulbous external sex organs and swole beach muscles can be evinced writhing in sweaty club hook-ups in pee-stink cave-echo-sultry bathrooms; lolling teats, chemically distended tumescent abs and Raisinette™ testes lubed by hair gel and Preparation H, emitting an unholy balloon-squeak symphony like Satan’s Crickets in the Bait Shop of Hell.
And they do this not only shamelessly, but proudly; wagging their yogurt hoses and flapping their silicone fortified dairy bastions at polite society like so many lewd KY-encrusted party favors…because their cartoonishly exaggerated flesh, good for maybe another decade or so, is their currency and worth. So reasons their room-temp IQ narcissist minds.
They simply do not comprehend that they are the Nickels. And just like Weekend Hulk here at his weekday Arby’s register…it is up to society to make change.
The Yellowtail: Mr. Tibbs
The Yellowtail Douchie Award, also known as The Oldbag, goes to the creepiest old scrote macking on the young hotts of the year.
This award invariably produces its share of heroism and anti-douche applause. For most people, simply witnessing any old geezer keeping his saggy sack in the game and getting his mack on in his senior years is worthy of applause and appreciation.
Oldbags of note this year include:
Greybeard sins against Nature.
The generic Vagitarian.
The creepy Vegas Olddog and Olddog with Pear.
The uber annoying Bronzer McTwat, also known as Mister Asswhiffer.
Narm.
The ancient Tony Cappacino.
The douche-face of Gozer the Fondler.
And Vinny the Crabs Guy who definitely earns his nottadouche and tasty crab snack.
The biggest competition for the Yellowtail award has to go to either Oldbag Harold or Oldbag Ralph, both of whom are odious sucks of taint in presence of hot chick.
But there was no passing up Mr. Tibbs, showing his nieces his fine corinthian leather back in January.
A lotta Oldbags last January. I don’t know what was going on then.
The 'Bagling: Eurotimmy
The competition was fierce, but Eurotimmy was a heavy favorite to win the category. It’s like when you bet on the Superbowl and Tom Brady’s facing Peyton Manning. Some events are preordained.
But there was much competition, including Douchewanks Saying What, Melvin Finkelstein, and The Gloumpa, Timmy Bowtie, none were more ‘baglingesque (Bieberesque?), than January’s Eurotimmy macking on Eastern European Leyona.
A hearty Douchie Award to this barely pubsecent nascent European pudwack.
And may we bomb Dusseldorf as we once did Dresden. And by bomb, I mean ban all dubstep for a 48 hour detoxifying period.
Hottest Hott of the Year #2: Vespa Hott from Lord Helmet and Vespa Hott
From Jenny’s girl-next-door hottness our other 2012 Douchie Award winner is that sultry Eurasian Brunette Goddess we know as Vespa Hott from Lord Helmet and Vespa Hott.
Her Mayan Eye of Coitus takes her otherworldy hottributes and sends them to into the stratosphere of award winning hott munch.
Other Hottest Hotts of the Year include Ashley Pear, Poochtickle Trina, Pouty Cass, British Sexy Sophia, Bath Salts Hugh Jackman’s Sheila, and every single vision of feminine perfection that appeared in Where’s Douchelegs?
Mmm… yes to all please.
Hottest Hott #1: Jenny from the Sci-Fi Poobags
One of the hardest and most subjective categories of the year, here’s your first Douchie Award winner for Hottest Hott of the Year. And the award goes to Jenny from October’s Jenny in the Land of Sci-Fi Herpster Poobags.
For that there is perfection hottieness.
I would suckle and repose with a blankie and a small plastic bag of Twizzlers for sustenance.
Best Golden Globes: Globes For All!!
Anonymous Hottie from Tool who Points! (And Tool Who Grabs)
Freddie Gets Ready! Rock Steady.
Yo Quero Taco Boob!
Asswipe With a Coors Light’s Kelly!
BroKevin’s Groobs!
Alyssa’s Cleavite!
It was a very good year. Something for everyone.
Orangest Orange: Orangudan
From back in May, and oranging again in October, this freakish two-toned Vegas scroteweight needed to win at least one Douchie Award when all is said and done.
Runners up inxclude Orangukevin, Loompus Loompa, Crimson Billy, and the hilarious Chaz Bono Shit Golem.
Douchiest Celebrity Couple of the Year: Kanye/Kardouchian
The great Vin Douchal hands out the prize:
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If’n you don’t know who Emily Maynard and Jef Holm are, you are not qualified to pick the “Celebrity Douche Couple” for the 2012 Douchies.
This is a category yours truly was born to own and dominate.
Let’s start with the year in review and elimination. Beiber and Gomez, if you’re not a pimply 14 year old girl you shouldn’t care. For sheer creepy factor Olivier Sarkozy and Mary-Kate Olsen bring the goose chills. Just because your brother is the President of France doesn’t mean you can come grab up Ze Amairican Cheeks like some bottom feeding flounder. Got no problem with those May-December romances but the first time I saw a photo of these two together my urethra clamped shut for two days.
Heidi Klum managed to bring even more head scratching than when she married Seal by leaving him for her tattooed douchebag bodyguard. Listen, there isn’t a one of us that wouldn’t mind eating her strudel even with the thought of following Seal up that trail. Seal’s talent is inversely proportional to his ugly.
(Dis)Honorable mention to unmentionable Avril Lavigne and Chad Kroeger, the brother-sister duo Bobbi Kristina Brown and Nick Gordon and their upcoming nuptials (Blechh, I just barfed a little in my mouth), Katy Perry and anyone she picks to hook up with and Taylor Swift and Conor Kennedy (although little is known about this dude, he’s a Kennedy therefore Auto-Douche, she’s been Bleethed out by Hollywood).
This year’s decision presented itself in a bacon wrapped dilemma on a stick. My distaste for these two people can only be measured in galaxies. Kanye West presents the exact talent level of lowest common denominator popular entertainment while Kim Kardasian has no discernible skill of any kind. Having a giant, yet shapely butt may be the only thing she could place on her resume. Also , it’s a good thing her parents are rich because it appears she cakes on about $1400 worth of makeup every day on that grille of hers
Punchable Kanye West… Where do I start? The elementary/simplistic/imbecilic music, the unearned cocksure stance, the live hijacking of the Grammys when he grabbed the microphone to say that Beyonce should have won and that they both lost because of racism? This even though he, Beyonce, Herbie Hancock, Corrine Bailey Rae and Rihanna all won up to that point. Whiner. Shrieking whiner.
So let’s reward bluster and butts and give the “2012 Douchiest Couple” to two of the most deserving douchebags on the planet, Kanye West and Kim Kardasian.
And Kanye? Get that f’en harelip fixed will ya? You’ve got enough cash duping 12 year olds to afford it.
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