As we enter the year 17 A.G. (After Greico), I hope all of our parties end up like this roasted turd chestnut. With sixteen hotties all drinking from the classic Ubiquitous Red Cup, and one skeezy scrote who's more interested in the camera than the perfect munchy leg he's perching on.

It can't be good to want to tie this feral slice of small intestine to a ball of metallic razor blades and roll him down a hill. That can't be a positive emotion heading into a New Years, which is supposed to be about change, and uplift and positivity.

Feh. Screw positivity. Lets chain up Grinny McCheese to a tractor pull and go bear hunting.

One question: Is the 7-11 Big Gulp Red Cup the Ferrarri of Ubiquitous Red Cups?

Greetings from San Francisco, where The DB1 is planning to spend a New Years of utter debauchery and sin in which I will be chasing hippie Hotties with hopefully a stage-0 Bleeth level.

Good times will most definitely ensue.

Before I forget, I have to hand out a few 2006 Douchie Awards to some of the key contributors to the site. So without further ado, the Douchie Awards for the 'bag hunters from the comments thread:

2006 Douchie Award: Most Prolific 'Bag Hunter -- Douchestar Runner, for submitting dozens of pics over the past year including some of the greatest hits of all time on the site. This guy is a 'Bag Hunter Master of the Scrotiest Order, a true King of Bling. Good work, D.R. Expectations are high for 2007.

2006 Douchie Award: Zen 'Bag Master -- Doc, whose volume of pic hunting was not high in quantity, but absolutely fantastic in douche quality. The man is a sushi chef of 'bag hunting, a Minimalist masterworker in the vein of a Frank Stella painting or Robert Bresson film. Doc waits for his moment, still as Schiavo, then strikes with lighting quickness. For that, he earns a well deserved 2006 Douchie.

2006 Douchie Award: Philosophical 'Bag Master-- Baron von Douchehausen, for understanding that analyzing the cultural ramifications of douchebaggery requires a detailed approach to linguistics, semiotics, cultural studies, critical theory, psychology, parapsychology, and a deep-rooted desire to mercilessly mock all that is scrote. Keep up the excellent analysis, BvD. We've only scratched the surface of our detailed topographical analysis of douchie/hottie comingling.

Special props to all the regulars for keeping the dialogue going as we dig deeper into what it is that creates these monstrosities of male superego and the cuties who love them. Cheers!!

In the immortal words of Marvin Gaye: Ain't no Mountain High Enough...

I don't know quite what that means, but it seems apropos of something or another for this fantastic and perfect example of the Holy Cleavite in all its glorious relevation.

Not to mention the combo with this skankbag. Such HC + D gale force winds are what can kill a horse if not properly monitored.

So lets raise this pic to the rafters and honor it with a 2006 Douchie Award. There really aren't two better examples of what makes the world spin in its utter perplexed confusion than in this pic right here. In many ways this pic represents war, peace, injustice and cereal bars all at the same time. What, you don't like cereal bars?

Can I get an "amen"?

How can we forget this classic inverted 'bag sandwich formation from back in June? A well earned 2006 Douchie to this pile of yak crap in the middle. I'd like to klog dance on his seed.

I will forever love quirky dark haired hottie in the green bikini. I know I've said I love other women on this site, and I meant it everytime. But this time, I mean it for as long as I continue to type this sentence.

I know it's a few days after Christmas and all, but... uhm.... er... I... yeah. I feel dirty.

Candycane on the right has all sorts of meaty childbearing hips. And for some reason, I like it. Maybe it's the Vans.

Lets give this pudge a 2006 Douchie Award for "Douchiest Tie." Hell, the irony of the Douchies is even though I'm making them up as I go, they still have more credibility than the Blockbuster Awards.

I've got a few more Douchies to hand out before the end of 2006, but for those of you jonsing for a new pic, this one's a beauty. Yes, bow your heads, fellow 'bags, 'bag hunters and hotties. This is yet another extremely rare pic of the legendary spiritual Zen ubermensch, Douche Lee, snapped of the mystical D.L. in action just last week.

Yes, our intrepid witness to the Douche Lee manifestation has once again gone out and snapped a pic of this omnisexual spirit in action.

Let us never again question the Douche Lee, nor wonder about such trivialities as Its sexual orientation or identity. Let us simply marvel at Its ability to continue to summon the hottest tail this side of a New England harbor back-alley at 2am.

Douche Lee is a myth no longer. For now we can, no we must, believe in the spirit of the D.L.

Let us bow our heads in reverent prayer. We come to praise Its holy manifestation in all Its glorious earthly revelation. Let the legend of Douche Lee sing out across the lands in poem and song for all eternity to hear Its douchey cry.

Since we're voting on frosted hair and perfect abs in seperate Douchie Award categories, lets give a 2006 Douchie to this perfect combo of the two that ran back in mid June.

It really don't get tanner/douchier than this unholy combo. It's like finding a rare Brazilian tulip in full bloom in the rainforests of Madagascar only to discover a piece of elephant dung on it's stamen.

It's enough to drive the DB1 to drink.

Then again, so's a light southwesterly breeze.

Voting on the general quality of the hotties on this site is a near impossible task. So many gorgeous creatures have revealed their weakness for oily scrote that trying to narrow them down to three is a near impossibility. So rather than attempt a general "hottie" vote (which we've tried in the past), I'm going to open up the floor for a debate on the perfection of the female abs.

I'm talking baby back rib abs. The type you want to dip in a nice steak sauce and chew on for a four day weekend. And, of course, we must factor in the other half of the ledger, the power of rank douchebaggery that those abs have chosen to comingle with.

So, without further ado, here are the nominees...

Hottest Abs #1: Ab-solutely Douchulous


I didn't really give this pic an adequate name the first time around, so this time we'll go with "Ab-solutely Douchulous."

Speaking of douchulous, headband 'bag could've been a finalist for spikiest hair with that frosted mop of thorns.

I do sort of appreciate anyone who tacks up a neon "Bud" crown light on their fireplace.

As to abs, she is all that cheers me to a state of perpetual warmth on a cold, cold night.

















Hottest Abs #2: The Wigga Clown




Persian Princess has those soft abs with just a hint of definition. Couched in a lightly dusted layer of fat, they are supple, yet firm. Like a tasty pork tenderloin, I would dip in apple sause and serve sizzling hot. It may be a costume pic, but the fact that Halloween continues to be a holiday that allows hotties to let out their inner slut makes it good by me.










Hottest Abs #3: The Scrote Warrior


Here's a fan fave from back in the day, as this skeezy 'bag attemps to grab this slender stalk of abaliscious perfection like a sucking pleco fish. I want to feed him algae until he sticks to the side of my fishtank.

She may only be a mid level cutie in the face, but stare at those abs, blink repeatedly for thirty seconds, then stare at a blank wall.

Do you see that?

It's perfection.

Good thing I don't have to vote. My first answer to these three pics? Yes, please. But it's up to you. Vote, as always, in the comments thread.

As Jean-Paul Sartre once said:

Man is condemned to be free; because once thrown into the world, he is responsible for everything he does.

It would be unfair to attempt to privilege any one of the douchebag specificities of White Chocolate above the rest. Therefore we must award a 2006 Douchie to W.C.'s totality. His "everything." To award a Douchie for the grill, or the Jesus bling, or perhaps the aqua satin Yankee cap, would be to deny Sartre's totality of existential douchebaggery.

Sure we could talk about his bizarre facial pube configuration. His multiple outfits. His douchey sunglasses. His inordinately head scratching ability to pull hotties.

But to focus in on any of these specificities would detract from understanding W.C.'s douchiness in its totality. As Sartre understood, douchebaggery, as in life, can only be fully comprehended through the philosophical macro. And in so doing, we bestow a special 2006 Douchie for "Douchiest Everything" to the douche who has everything, White Chocolate.

Good on you, W.C.

An HCwD of the Week Award Winner and the pic that caused the most reader fantasies this year, there was no way The 'Bagsgiver wasn't going to get honored with a 2006 Douchie Award.

For pulling two of the sweetest looking chickas on the site, neither of whom appear to me to be of the "professional" variety (although there was much debate on this point), and for remaining in a state of pure douchitude, the 'Bagsgiver is a worthy Douchie recipient.

He'd also be a worthy DB1's-Boot-in-his-Ass award recipient, but alas, no award in that category this year.

Here's another category open to voting. I know a lotta 'bags, 'bag hunters and hotties are on vaca this week, but it's the end of year awards so if you have a fave, now's the time to vote in the comments thread. But enough of my rambling.

The nominees are...

Douchiest Oldbag #1: Richie Rich





Hip Hop is dead, sayeth Nas. And who am I to argue? Especially when creepy middle aged music producer types continue to score tall, leggy, blankly expressioned model types?

That's what makes the turntables spin, baby.





Douchiest Oldbag #2: Yellowtail


What more can be said about this saggy boobed monstrosity, other then if Richie Rich is a hip hop producer, this guy's one of those Phil Spector types, still trying to live up to his 1970s fame when he produced "A Fifth of Beethoven" for the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack. Yellowtail's gold chain remains one of the douchiest talismans to ever grace the site.

He's going to be hard to beat.

Douchiest Oldbag #3: Gramps


An early folk hero fan fave on the site, Gramps may have been the first 'bag to reverse the polarities through sheer force of will and end up a true legend. There's something to be said for being 70 and cuddling up to a girl in a purple satin lace bra as absolutely mouth watering skittles level tasty as this curvy viola.

Should Gramps take the Douchie?

It's up to you. Vote, as always, in the comments thread.

While it's true that there have been a plethora (and by plethora I mean "boobies") of extremely choice beauties on this site (granted, being clutched by monstrosities of dung), there's something about Barbarino 'Bag's librarian hottie that just knocks my socks off. Maybe it's the dark raven hair, of which the DB1 is a huge fan. Maybe it's the helpless expression. Maybe that hint of a sexy black bra under that white t-shirt.

Whatever it is, Barbarino's Librarian Hottie gets a Douchie Award for most likely to divorce the DB1 after a stormy shotgun marriage.

So whaddaya say, Librarian Cutie? Marry a drunk, unemployed pudgy douchebag living in a basement hovel? Oh wait, it appears you're already well on the way.

And the Douchie Award for "Most Persistent Fan Club" goes to.... Big Red. As if there was any doubt.

This one's for the huge fan club north of the border, so please stop emailing me asking for more Big Red. Big Red's earned a 2006 Douchie for everyone's favorite one-shirted budding 'bag in training. Give it up to the popped collar legend.

The amount of teenage hotties this mythic 'bag has managed to headlock remains a triumphant accomplishment for a mini'bag so young and impressionable. Good work, B.R.! In many ways, you're a 'bag hero.

Yeesh, a fan fave from back in the day, deserves a special Douchie and I had to go with "Best GeneriBag" for his utterly blank generic douche expression. Not to mention his oh so sexy, milfy and enhanced hottie with the David Lee Roth wardrobe.

For all that HCwD unholy genius comingling in such a rotten combo, Yeesh gets a coveted 2006 Douchie Award.

Enjoy it, Yeesh.

Along with that gelly head and judging by the background, that massive drinking problem, I know that you will.

Other Douchies will have open voting all week so get yer votes in during this holiday week before Old No. 7 finds out where I live.

This Douchie is for the "special" 'bags, those heaping turds who've rolled off the short bus and somehow corralled a hottie along the way. Whether out of pity, sexual attraction or somewhere in between, you'll never know. And because of that lack of knowledge, you must mock. And in doing so, you must pick a winner.

The nominees for Best "Special" 'Bag are...

Best Special 'Bag Nominee #1: Hootie is a Blowfish


His chin kind of resembles those fried egg inside a slice of bread "bullseye" breakfasts we used to eat at summer camp. Although why I would want to associate this nipple rubbing poobag with a fond food memory is a question better left for my psychiatrist.

Of course, that would be if I could afford a psychiatrist. Instead I mostly just talk to the 7-11 Clerk who usually asks me to "please leave" right around the time I start telling him how my mother didn't show me enough affection growing up. Stupid 7-11 clerk.

Best "Special" 'Bag Nominee #2: Polo Boy


This is one of my favorite pics ever on the site, if for nothing else then the yellow polo with pink polo wraparound sweater. And of course the most perfectly tanned hide since Buffalo Bill used to hand stitch saddles back in the 1880s.

I know I shouldn't make fun of 16 year old training-'bags, but how can I leave off Polo Boy from the list? If Anna Pacquin can win an Oscar at 10, Polo Boy can get a Douchie Nom.





Best "Special" 'Bag Nominee #3: The Red Cup



The fact this rather befudled young 'bag resembles the younger brother on "Growing Pains" is only one of many reasons to mock his scrotey nature. Wholesome midwestern Red Cup clutching lass is another. The dude in the back jonsing for cereal is simply an innocent bystander in this trainwreck of HCwD wrongness.



Best "Special" 'Bag Nominee #4: Graduation Scrote


The fact this guy graduated anything outside of the Learning Annex Tony Robbins "Personal Power" class is a terrifying indictment of the American educational system.

To paraphrase Otter in "Animal House," I put it to you, Greg. Isn't that an indictment of the United States of America itself?

This pic most certainly is.

Dartboard with darts holding up notes. Captain Morgan poster. And two cute little Frosh-in-Training hotties. Horns McShortbus makes me want to spew on the couch if it wouldn't blend right in. Because, uh, the pattern on the couch looks like puke. Figured I'd spell it out, in case Graduation Scrote's reading this.

Four good candidates. This one is a tough vote.

Here's another tough category with so many worthy entries. I've boiled it down to four of the finest in douche-hair of the past year, and this is another category I'll be opening up for voting. I have a few categories I'll just be handing out awards in, because hey, it's the Douchies not the Oscars.

So fire up the grill and skewer some strip steaks on these frosted tipped douchebag porcupines. Here are the nominees...

Spikiest Hair Douchie Nominee #1: Yet More Cactus Head



This is a classic two-toned 'bag muscle-t example, complete with 'bag face expression #02 and two half-drunk and long lost Bleethed out hotties.

But the hair.

Oh man that glorious spiked out hair. It's like bronze sculpture from the early impressionist period. I half expect Man-Ray to hang it on a wall next to a a Duchamp bicycle wheel. It is douche art.

Spikiest Hair Douchie Nominee #2: Chin o' Douche

I keyed in on C.O.D.'s chin when I first posted this pic, but now that I look at it again, I can't believe I didn't celebrate the shampoo-like swirly genius that is this dark and foreboding winter sea. Melville would have waxed poetic on this hair swirl, oh so long ago. Or, for the gutter humor fans, its like a giant pile of ferret puke.

Not to mention the deadly coral snake coiling around his neck. Add in that lively arc of Cleavite that could even make The Boitano find new ways of double axeling and this pic is all sorts of HCwD head pounding wrongness.



Spikiest Hair Douchie Nominee #3: Purple Lips



This pic really deserves a special award, and I'm still not sure how this monstrosity didn't make it into a HCwD of the Month winning entry, but it may have had to do with the "HC" side of the ledger. Regardless, Purple Lips deserves a little end of year Douchie Love (and by love I mean "spew"). If he doesn't win this category I'll have to give this turd some form of special honor.

Megods.

My eyes hurt like they've just run a marathon. Maybe we'll do a special award here at HCwD, if you can stare at this pic without blinking for twenty seconds, you'll get a free bottle of Night Train. Okay, no not really. Unless by "Free bottle of Night Train" I mean that I'll point you towards the local corner store where you can buy your own damn bottle for $1.99 plus deposit.

Spikiest Hair Douchie Nominee #4: Supernova



It's hard to argue with this slice of all-American douche goodness. Prom night never felt so scrotey. Like a sunflower plant basking in the rays of the Grieco Himself, this blooming ball of 'baggery has taken his first steps down the dark road of perdition.

Voting, as always, is in the comments thread. And since this is the end of year voting for the 2006 Douchie Awards, voting will be open all week. Winners, and virtual trophies, will be handed out next week.

This a vote for those HCwD pics that illicit pure horror and fear. So this isn't "scary" in the sense of a horrifying White Chocolate pic. We'll have another category for that type of fear/revulsion. This is the Horror 'Bag category of the Douchies.

Without further ado, the nominees are...

Scariest Scrote Nominee #1: Old No. 7


A classic HCwD from last summer, I would like to reiterate that Old No. 7 is a class act, a scholar and a gentleman who is by no means a douchebag on any level whatsoever.

Please do not break me in half, Cro 'Bagnon Man.







Scariest Scrote Nominee #2: Wake Up!!


Holy crap, this 'bag goes beyond ordinary creepiness into another level of scrotery. But I do love this wholesome tomato. She's corn-fed Midwestern goodness.

This pic makes no sense. Which makes it a glorious contribution to the HCwD canon.


Scariest Scrote Nominee #3: The Angry 'Bag
Maybe Angry 'Bag doesn't quite create the visceral horror of the other two pics, but he's frightening in his own right, and he's protecting quite the little ball of hot wax with his angry gaze. Plus he's got hair issues and a sweat stain that frighten children like Michael-Jackson-Nose.

While it's true that this creepy knob may not be on the stomach churning level of the other two pics, lets also not forget his absolutely fantastic hottie.

Oh hell, I'm stretching. I couldn't find a pic to live up to the other two but I needed a third to round out the category.

So here you go. Douchie Award voting is open.... now.

Scariest Scrote Nominee #4: The Warthog


EDIT: Crap, I can't believe I forgot The Warthog. Dammit, I knew sorting throw all the pics of the last year was going to be tough. If anyone's already voted and wants to redo their vote for this Planet of the Hog, do so in the comments thread.

Damn, I forgot how fantastic a pic this is. It's like being punched in the face, and yet I like it. Must be the grey plastic sportscoat and American flag bandana.

'Twas the night before douchemas,
and all through the house,
not a scrotebag was stirring,
not even this hairy sleeveless shirt wearing tool.

Okay that's it on the poem, there's no way I'm attempting the next seven verses when I feel like I've been kicked in the head by too many Rolling Rocks. Can't get a Rolling Rock on the West Coast so gotta stock up and abuse the liver while I'm here.

This sweet reindeer won't survive long. Note the Izod with collars about to pop up like a hungry titmouse on Christmas morn.

Yeah, I just analogized a collar to a titmouse. Because it's the holidays. And when I'm looking at a mustachioed tool like this oval headed Village Person, I can do that.

I do appreciate anyone who wears the Snake Plissken shirt, tho.

Merry Christmas!! And to all a 'bagless and hottie filled night.

At first I was gonna do a twelve post daily countdown of the twelve 'bags of Christmas, but that would entail all sorts of conceptual breakdowns of HCwD 'baggery along metaphorical lines (what exactly is a douchebag in a pear tree, anyways?).

So instead you simply get this pic.

With three douchebags instead of twelve.

But how much do you want to punch 'bag hand gesture #113? What is that, anyways? A "Westside"? A distorted "Shocker"? Or just confirmation that aqua-blue silk zoot suits can not hide the soul of a scrote?

As for the two knobs fondling inflatable santa, that's all you two choads are gonna get this Christmas. Inflatable Santa ass.

A guy walks into a bar.

The bartender says, "Hey, wanna see a picture of a total and complete douchebag oozing scrote over a group of cute little college cuties?"

The guy says, "Sure!"

The bartender pulls out this pic.

And they both spontaneously burst into flames and die.

Hey, so I'm not the best joke teller. Maybe it's in the delivery.

May your Christmas weekends be 'bag free and full of pure, uncut hotness. And may you avoid creepy stalkerbags like that weird dude in the back left of the pic. I don't even want to know what kind of toys are in that kid's closet.

All we need to make this pic a complete journey into the darkest depths of the douche ski patrol is dancing monkeys flinging poo. Or perhaps we already have that in this pic. I started to count the wrong, but once I hit the combo revelation of that rarest of species, the fantastus assicus attempting to grapple with that most common of fungii, the scumbagus douchebagus, my head Buckaroo Bonzaid into the 8th dimension with headache inducing speed.

It's bad enough broken wristed ski-bag is attempting to fondle that tall stalk of corn. But toss in a pucca shell tonguebag more interested in a flashing digital camera than the round perfection below him, and you have the perfect pic to cause the entire HCwD fanbase to collectively slam their heads into their monitors on a Friday afternoon.

Please, do not go Peter Gibbons on this PC Load Letter. It's not worth it.

With Christmas rapidly approaching, I thought I would share a heartwarming tale of attempted douchebaggery brought to us by our very own Douchestar Runner, who put on the Santa outfit as his means of engaging a stage-1 'bag strategy to meet the hotties. Gotta give him points for originality. Not too many 'bags running around using the highly unusual "Santa Strategy." Especially Presbyterian Ministers on the make.

As DR recounts the tale:

Friday night my roommate and I have his brother and our mutual friend from high school over at our place for good old boozing. My roomie's bro arrives carrying two Santa costumes because he and his brother are going to an event called "SantaCon" (which is held in Manhattan every year) the next morning. It's an all day affair where several hundred Santas roam all over Manhattan getting drunk and causing all kinds of debauchery. My buddy from high school--who happens to be a Presbyterian minister--shows up, and with very little convincing he and roomie's bro start getting into the Santa suits because we are going to hit the local bar. My roommate and I tell them--"c'mon, Santa ALWAYS gets laid!"

So we put the two Santas in the backseat of my huge '62 Pontiac and we drive down to the bar and park right in front in order to cause the biggest scene. We aren't in the bar for 2 minutes when these chicks come over to have their pictures taken with the Santas.

And there you have it. Trouble is--wouldn't ya know it--these chicks were with some total douchebags, complete with elbow tats and cigs behind the ears, who were NOT enjoying all the attention we were getting in the bar. Unfortunately I didn't get any pics of them--we were probably very close to a fight just by being in there.

--DR

Nice try, DR. Santa'Bagging is only a stage-1 'bag strategy. Looks like tribal tats, gel and bling beat a Santa suit any day of the week.

Silky, preening knob,
Shaved chest, existential quake,
'Bag headlock, doves cry.

There's been a noted lack of popped collars on the site lately and I am to correct that with this pic. Which is kind of like turning on a light by setting off a neutron bomb. This exploding light-blue ball of popped "L.A. Looks" Tag body O.D.ing poppy seed is a nice way to wake myself up on a Friday by punching myself in the conceptual nutsack.

This little chicklet has taken her first step down the dark road of 'baggery with her sadly cute attempt at a tonguebag pose and fondling of Popeye's poppedness. Like a toddler taking her first tentative steps, she is dipping her toe in the douche pool. We are witnessing one of the earliest stages of a Grieco infection right here.

I'm thinking we need a Jerry Lewis telethon.

'Bag Rule #06: If you're wearing a conductor hat and Liberace garage sale sunglasses, your ur-douche power is beyond source douche to an almost Grieco level of luminosity.


Observe this douche sun-God's unholy power taking out two hotties and rendering them instant stage-4 Bleethers. Very sad.

This turd reminds me of a Rock 'Em Sock 'Em robot, scrote style. I want to click-punch his head until it pops up.

As to the long lost hotties, they may have gone down the dark road of douchitude, but man alive I'd munch on that yellow bikini-top with a nice strawberry topping.

Is that the legendary grease-head, Socrates, dancing in the "Douche is in the Heart" pic? Doc seems to think so. I'm not sure, but it could very well be.

And here's one more chaser pic in the afterglow of the HCwDotY. Nothing too amazing about this pic other than the fact this bulky chinbag's forehead is apparently the size of Trenton.

And that cleavite. That oh so fantastic cleavite. I would live in the jungles of Antwerp subsisting on rice cakes and grasshoppers just to juggle her socks for an hour outside the Tastee-Freeze.

While we're all celebrating Glinty's win, lets get down to the early 90s club hit by Deeeee-Scrote, "Douche is in the heart."


The puke that you
send up my throat
Keep me filled with
Satisfaction when we're done
Satisfaction of what's to come
(I) I couldn't ask for a douchebag

No I couldn't ask for a douchebag,

Your bling I do deeply dig
No walls only the wigg(a)
My scrotey bitch, my succotash wish
(Sing it baby)
(I) I couldn't ask for a douchebag,
(Uh-huh uh-huh)
(I-I-I-I-I I)
No I couldn't ask for a douchebag,

Douche is in the heart
Ah-ah-ah-ah
Douche is in the heart
Ah-ah-ah-ah
Douche is in the heart
Douche is in the heartttt,
Ah-ah-ah

The depth the forehead grease,
Move us to the nth release,
We goin' through to Jersey,
Hears a who-ooh
(I) I couldn't ask for a douchebag
(I-I-I-I-I I)
No couldn't ask for a douchebag,
DJ Scrote (scrote) popped a collar,
I've been told the douchebag hollars,
He's not vicious or malicious
Just de-lovely and a total and complete ball of f-ing scrote,
No (I) I couldn't ask for a douchebag,

(Sing it)

Douche is in the heart
Ah-ah-ah-ah
(Ne-na-na-na-na)
Douche is in the heart
(Ne-na-na-na-na)
Douche is in the heart
(Ne-na-na-na-na)
Douche is in the heart-ah-ah-ah

Douche is in the heart
Ah-ah-ah-ah (yeah)
Douche is in the heart
Ah-ah-ah
Douche is in the heart
Douche is in the heart
Ah-ah-ah

In the end it was fairly close, but Glinty pulled it out like the champion West Coast greaseball he is. Although Socratic Douche did put up a tough fight to come in second, with Dung Beetle still receiving enough votes to finish a solid third.

But the overwhelming grease/hot combo of Glinty remains a fan fave. There were just too many attributes for Glinty to be denied. The bling. The shirt with the stupid douche "humor" partially blocked by a gorgeous, exposed beauty. However, the greased up forehead and chin pubes are what I think carried him through the finals to a convincing victory for the coveted first annual HCwDotY Award.

I'd inform Glinty himself, but I'm not sure he's actually human. Staring at this pic makes me think he might be like Orange 'Bag, an apparition or a shell that you simply move into a storage bin when the clubs close.

So lets all clink our bling and give HCwD props to Glinty for beating out the rest and taking the coveted top spot. He is "Classic HCwD" on so many levels. He is archetype. While there are more gut wrenching douchebag freaks and sexy-ass hotties from the past year (I'm still recovering from the perfection of Barbarino 'Bag's hottie), there is no doubt that this pic contains too many douchey/hottie qualities to ignore its greatness.

As Mitch Meats breaks it down for us:

Winner and still champeen: Gliny Blinglescrote, I want to douse your soul patch in turpentine then immolate your @#$@ing oily head. I want to draw and quarter your nutsack with very powerful and slow moving tortoises. I want to put you in a blender, make a dirty douchetini, and throw you off the Statue of Liberty. There are so many thousands of ways that I can imagine killing you this morning. For that, and the combined strength of your über-delicious rays of sunshine, you completely deserve the title of Douchebag of the Year. Now get the @#$@ out of my sight.

Well said, M.M. And nice job finding the umlout key. I still haven't been able to crack that Germanic nut.

I'm also pleased to see i bling key in on an important 'bag factor that we sometimes overlook -- the attitude problem. There's no doubt that Dung Beetle's sneer (and his hottie's perfection) are the reasons he's made it this far in the first place.

But the sneering Dung Beetle has the crucial douchebag arrogance that raises him above the other two. He's wearing all black, has the stupid sunglasses indoors and a death grip on his hottie. He's mocking us in this photo, knowing we will likely never have the opportunity to give him the throat-punch he so richly deserves.

Nice work, I.B. Another interesting hypothetical is brought to us by Douche, PhB(ag), who ruminates on the differences between genetic douchosity and douche-as-persona:

A philosophical question. What is more douche? To be as one is, like a shiny mountain, Phidias' Zeus in silver track pants, an eternal Jersey guido douchebag? Or to change with the seasons, shedding the glinty belt buckle and fake tan like a diseased maple dropping its wormy rotting leaves only to blossom into a new and more horrible form the coming spring?

I believe the latter is more reprehensible. Vote Glinty, as I do.

Pandora brings an important female perspective as she uses the "least likely to touch" barometer to make her vote before casting in with S.D.:

Needless to say, all three douches here are very HCwDBofY worthy ... yet the one I would be most unwilling to let touch me is the Socratic Douche. Not only does he look like he just rolled out of a tanning booth and into a lard bath, he is wearing the classic douche tank top and bling. While not sporting the grillz of White Chocolate, I bet he's saving up his money from his full time job at Burger King to buy a pair. I would like to buy lighters for each of his blondes so that they may be able to burn the layer of skin off that touched him.

Nicely reasoned, Pandora. In fact there was some excellent work done by all the 'bags, 'bag slayers and hotties in the comments thread including an excellent poem by Undouchesided, I refer all to the comments thread for a more detailed analytical deduction of some of the larger moral, intellectual, philosophical, ethical and puke/boner factors that we're exploring.

Great work all, lets tip our red cups of Night Train to Glinty. For he and his hotties personify all that is uber hottie/scrote in today's douchey world. All that makes us hopeful, and all that makes us want to kill ourselves with an ice-pick through the eye.

HCwD of the Year voting is still open, mainly because I'm a lazy git who hasn't tallyed up the votes yet. However the actual entry dropped off the main page so you can access it By clicking here.

As always, make sure to only vote once, explain your reasons for voting, and remember to factor in BOTH hottie hotness and douchebag douchebagginess for the total effect of each pic.

I'll post the results tomorrow, and then we're on to the end of the year Douchie awards. And to the Big Red fans out there, don't you worry your heads, B.R. will get a Douchie too. Can't forget the Big Red.

Let there be no confusion. Douche Lee is not "man" nor "woman." Douche Lee has no time for such petty categorizations and spiritually vapid gender classifications.

Douche Lee is a higher level of spirit. A far more expansive plateau of existence. He has no time for your attempts to classify him. He is both chick and douche, male and female, in one Yin/Yang corporeal body of earthly manifestation.

Do not doubt the Douche Lee. For he will only grow douchier.

Instead let us all bow to the gender confusing Pat-level Zen Master. Like an apparition he graces our site in brief pixelated form, only to move on to corral hotties with his mystifying douche powers forever more.

Lets us take a moment to nod our collective heads and honor Douche Lee for his brief appearance in our lives. He has touched all of us. Perhaps in inappropriate ways. But his legend has only grown. And like all douche legends, we will sing songs to his memory around the campfire for many a moon. Many a lonely Douche Lee moon.

There is a legend that even the boldest and most experienced 'bag hunters whisper about with fear and awe. A 'bag whose existence itself is more rumor and myth then fact. A famous Zen Douchebag who legend has it has wandered the ancient sprawling hills of mainland China for eons. A zen 'bag master who goes simply by the name, "Douche Lee."

But now, for the first time, a reader believes he's snapped actual photographic evidence of this all powerful 'Bag Master in action.

Here is what appears to be the legendary Douche Lee caught in full on mystical douche action. He may be hard to see in the pic (he's in the back center), but like with The Loch Ness Monster or BigFoot, the elusive Douche Lee can not be easily captured nor observed working his douchey magic.

(click on pic for a closer examination of this startling discovery)

Note the 'bag master shirt, bizarre glasses and rare cigarette 'bag hand gesture #105 (a move only a stage-4 'bag master can attain). Observe the ring of hotties worshipping in the presence of this skinny hip-hop Asian wigga. I don't know about you, but I'm convinced. Here, for the first time, we have actual evidence of uber-douchosity of the one and only Douche Lee.

He is real. Oh yes. He is real.

We haven't had a lot of Office 'bags on the site, those everyday scrotes who make all the women in the office feel uncomfortable and then bust out the douchebag moves at the office holiday party or when out drinking.

Office 'bags, like Jim the Coffee Scrote here, are stage-1 'bags, basically on the level of a tonguebag or awkward nerdbag. Like the many high school 'baglings we've seen, office 'bags aren't remotely on the greased up shiny forehead and excessive bling level yet. But they want to be. Just like Jim here.

As to the lineup of barely 18 hotties, I will simply thank God for miniskirts and call it a day.

Here's another light HCwD snack while we digest the HCwD of the Year and figure out the how to break down the Douchie Awards by category. As to Electic Hair Orchestra here, I loved guitar heavy mod rock as much as the next guy, but man, ditch the red silk tie before I set your face on fire. Back in the early 90s during the Ian Ziering "Red Tie" period (1990-1992) it would've made you douchebag. Today it's like entering the hyper-scrote zone. The hottie appears to be 17-ish, so I will simply admire that artwork on the wall. That is fine, fine artwork.

I'm thinking I'll set up a few select Douchie Award votes for the major categories, and then I'll give out a few more to my favorites over the past year as sort of an Oscar parallel "Irving G. Doucheberg Award." Ya know, those honorary lifetime achievement kinda things where old people get to pretend they're still relevant.

Man oh man, so much hottie/scrote to go through, so little time. They almost all deserve an award (and by award I mean "spew").

I can't tell what's driving me to distraction more, the fantastic dual cleavite on display or seeing Tarantino 'Bag's creepyass hand gripping the sultry diamond on the right's arm. Fishhead needs to be wrapped up in yesterday's newspaper and put in a freezer somewhere. That chin alone deserves a Douchie Award.

Although now that I think about it, ChinBags may be one of the most competitive Douchie categories we have. There have to have been at least thirty or thirty five douche chins in the past few months alone.

As some of you may have noticed, HCwD got its first monthly sponsor this month, EvilEye Clothing, whose banner is up top. Check out their stuff, some very cool t-shirt designs, and the site owner assures me that the shirts are excellent as karmic douchebag repellent in addition to providing the type of mystical protection that the poor hotties on the left desperately need right about now. Look at that creepy haired chinbag giving us the 'eye.' Maybe we need a subsection, the evil eyed Thomas Dolbags and the hotties who are polluted by them.


So special props to EvilEye for being this month's HCwD sponsor. If anyone else is interested in sponsoring the site, drop the DB1 a line.

And fer chrissakes people, if you haven't voted in the HCwDotY, do it!! What are you waiting for? If you don't vote, I'll sick Old No. 7 on your sorry ass.

I've been staring at this pic for an hour (probably because I have no life) and I can't figure it out. Where is 'Bag Hand Gesture #60 coming from? Is it growing out of the back of brunette's head? Or perhaps one of thug douche's piercings has mutated into a new life form trying desperately to escape his facial pubes and is flagging us down begging for our help?

The hand angle just bothers me. But not as much as the three lurking creepbags in the back.

What is love? Baby don't hurt me...