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We saw the signs of imminent decay all around us, fraying, shredding at all that we had built up in the latter decades of the twentieth century. There were stench art legends like Douche or Dali, The Leprechaun, Captain Jack Spackle, The Armpit of America, The Ass Pimples and Aqua Brunette, Tony with the Car Dealership, Night of the Living Bed-Head, Vince Vaughnbag, Queen Bee and the Power Chord, Willy Wanker, The Velvet Helmet, Cuisinart Carl, The Olive Loaf and Yellow Dress Hott, and the brilliantly named Thornton Mellon Stewie Head. HCw DB may be finished, but the mock will never die. And I still plan to see all of you when my genius is finally acknowledged at the HCw DB Art Show at the Guggenheim in 2023. In addition to the legends that are the Prompas, there was The Dude with a Lot of Popped Collars, who made a second, less famous appearance here. And, of course, the condenced ballsackian mildew of Long Island: The ‘Bag Islander. One month with enough scrotal display to keep a hundred pop culture historians unpacking inter-gender dynamics for a millennium and a fortnight. But trust me in saying, the Mockers back then were glorious in their savagery and wit.
Perhaps obvious douchewanks with hot chicks in tow have vanished like Rollo Tomase chasing Keyser Soze.
We need an invented moniker for the hypertext vortex of ferret pus suckage that you embody in the apex of wretchedness that your life choices reached. Nor are you an amusingly eccentric scrotey nitwank. ‘Bags discard consciousness, thought, communication, and honesty in service of core lizard-brain pleasures rooted in cartoonish fantasy.
You wanted a certain kind of Supreme Court justice or just thought it would be hi-larious to mix it up by voting for an orange simian rhesus hemorrhoid. Shove it up your ass like a week old slurpee stained dumpster outside a 7-11 in Sheboygan. And even if the memories of those savory square burgers still haunts its myopic walls. Once you pulled the lever for a preening con-man sexual abuser, you exemplified the narcissistic diuretic spew of that most craven core embodiment of American Douchebaggery. Douches ignore the larger world in favor of the narcissistic self. Participate in this collective shunning of those that deserve nothing but shun. Far too often, I witnessed my character pass through academia instead of slamming into it, fly straight up into the air as though he’d stepped on a French midget named Herve, or fall on the ground for no apparent reason.
Then, the secret weapon every pops wishes they had.
TORONTO — Two weeks after a team from Toronto played for a football championship in the snow, a team from Toronto will play for a football championship in (possibly) the snow. Yes, it is the MLS Cup at BMO Field on Saturday afternoon, which is no doubt causing several readers to say: Sorry, the what now? It was Frei who kept TFC off the board last year and was named MLS Cup MVP. Here was TFC captain Michael Bradley on the expected weather: “It’s gonna be cold. The 30,000-plus at BMO Field should be well insulated. The atmosphere should be wild in a good way, unless there is a repeat of the madness in the Toronto-New York game that led to suspensions.
President Obama ain't trippin' now that his daughters are in the dating world ... The Prez told a Raleigh, NC radio station Friday he's "pretty relaxed" when it comes to First Daughters Malia, 18, and Sasha, 15, dating.