Good work, Cush. You're forgiven for dropping the comb through the railroad tracks.

And your wife is so hott, she makes my psyche ache with longing for the God that never was. I would gnaw through fields of bramble just for the chance to sniff the discarded makeup canister of blue paint left over after an X-Men shoot.

Here's the thing, Kissyface. A D-Neck shirt betraying a beer bottle tatt, just above a middle aged paunch, is not a good look. Embrace your transition into your late 30s.

Lola may be trashy, mai tai bar hott trampy sexy, but thems hills call for my Lewises to Clark her Nanooks of the North.

And yes, that last sentence devolved into the obvious historical references. Because yesterday used up my Freud chits for the week.

Mets third baseman David Wright celebrates a recent win with a zinfandel, a hottie, and a spikey douche-faux.

EDIT: Okay, this guy's probably a nottadouche, but he gets paid boatloads to throw a baseball and bang hotts of that caliber. But then again, he lives in Queens. So, douche.

EDIT #2: To those in the comments threads claiming 100% nottadouche, are you sure?

EDIT #3: More evidence.

We've seen many examples of extreme cultural douchewankery in presence of the hot chick on this site. But every so often we must remind ourselves of the everyday choadpoo.

The douche of genericism that resides on all of our streets and is dating all of our ex-girlfriends.

Like Kent, here. Headlocking Amy while making the doucheface. These are the real viral spreaders of Grieco. These are the true choadpoo.

Yo yo yo.

Gonna bend my chick over in my stylin' new basement apartment moms rented for me while I'se workin' out that payment plan with my baby momma, yo.

Just gots to slap dat ass for a bit, before gettin' to my new gig at KFC, where I make the mad cash.

For reals, yo. Cuz I'm a gangsta.

Just check the gat on my shirt. Would my printed t-shirt lie?

For blocking that lineup of tasty olive oyl goodness, and with Aqua Ed Hardy no less, you get a Bluto to the nads, Popeye.

----
DB1,

Amidst all this talk about “Swine Flu,” I got to thinking. It might be time for a public service announcement.

After all, HCwDB is to douche as the Center for Disease Control is to Swine Flu. The Swine Douche trend is a true pandemic.

We must heed the warning signs and act with vigilance to stop the spread of this pandemic. Humiliation can work on some strains of the virus, and furthermore, may help to socially quarantine infected individuals.

If we can isolate the infected until their symptoms clear, or they die, we may still have a chance to stop this thing. Travel suggestions: Unless it is absolutely necessary, we recommend you do not travel to New Jersey, Las Vegas, San Diego, or Miami.

-C-Baggin
----

Well put, C.B. Look for Green Zoot Suits as an early warning outbreak sign.

Gachhhhhhhh!!!

This coupling just overpowered me with a douchesplosion of taint.

To recover, I need a little more Ass Pear La Plante.

Ah... much better.

Is there anything Ass Pear La Plante can't cure? Rickets? Lupus? The Israel/Palestine conflict? The Lohan's herps?

Yeah, not the most articulate follow up to my earlier ruminations. I blame the sugar high from this tasty package of Hostess Sno Balls.

Over my bowl of Kellogg's Smacks this morning, I was contemplating the corporeal inspiration of Ass Pear La Plante.

In Beyond the Pleasure Principle, Freud describes the two drives that motivate the psyche. Eros, the sex drive, which becomes our motivation for the interplay between creativity and the desire for sexual pleasure. And Thantos, the death drive, the push for the pleasure of destruction borne of the inchoate fear of our own demise. Our deaths a form of release. Like orgasm. Or watching Ryan Seacrest beaten with a shovel by angry thugs.

What then to make of Freud's argument for the Death instinct? Where, then, can we locate the "Douche Drive?"

In the age of the simulacrum and the ascendancy of the market system, do we mark our bodies as both Eros and Thantos through product inscription? The tattoos of masculinity, the adornments of 'bling, the name brand t-shirts, are they meant to render our skin an artistic canvass?

Canvasses do not decay. A body marked by bling and hair rendered crystalline by gel can not grow old, can not grey, can not die. The market sells us sex and eternity, with two caveats -- financial replenishment and delayed gratification.

The next product will lead to sexual fulfillment. The next piece of body art will transform the human into post-human.

And all this time, Ass Pear La Plante. Calling out to me.

For a squeeze.

HCwDB of the Week winner Crimson Goose?

HCwDB legend Xenu shushes you.

For even in the presence of less than A-list suckle thigh, Xenu is more douche than you will ever be.

A surprisingly tight, close and evenly shaved vote this week in the Weekly, and those are not euphemisms for the female hooha. Well, they can be. Just not in this case.

But, in the end, Crimson Jerz Guid and Holy White Triangle were too strong a coupling to overcome. The voters speak:

SaulGoode42: Definitely the Crimson Goose. Anyone who makes the choice to fondle an alcho-phallus and a plastic box instead of her curvy wiggly-piggliness is a full-on pro bagger indeed. And she's still interested! Indifference, thy name is Guido.

Vinny Scumbaglia: Crimson Goose busts the classic Neanderthalian pose as he contemplates modern technology. LITH flashes the soft cotton triangle. I need go no further, your winning combo ladies and genplemns. CG/LITH FTW

Anonymous: Crimson Goose. He pays too much for tasteless alcohol then texts his friends about it. All the while, he is ignoring the conversation that Angela's underpants are trying to have with him. Dies irae, dies illa.

David: Crimson Goose, oh Goose. Your orangey, frosty shirt-too-smallisness only adds to the texting and the cuddling of the bottle like a six-month-old with Megan Fox's breast milk in a crystal decanter. And the denial of the smiley, too-tan bleeth with HWT? unacceptable. Crimson Goose F T W

Anonymous: Crimson Goose because the sad thing, despite all of his douchebaggery he probably still got to bang her that night. That's the real tragedy.

Steve L.: ALL HAIL THE HOLY WHITE TRIANGLE. even if she is featured in a pic all by herself in a weekly thread, i'd still vote for her on the basis that she's so naughty that she will eventually hook up with a potent douche virus anyway, thus automatically qualifying her for HCwDB status. she is guilty before proven innocent. and by guilty i mean sexy.

Blight of a Thousand Douches: Crimson Goose FTW. Holy White Triangle cannot be denied.

Douchard Wagner: Crimson Goose FTW. The hair, the shirt-unbutton, the wallpaper, the chain, the... everything. Also, texting while in company is a cancer upon our society and a plague upon our house. If you will, and I will.

Mr. Choad's Wild Ride: His Goose is cooked for clutching the vodka bottle close to his chest like Linus's blanket. All the signs are there: mark of the douche? Check. Neck bling? Check. Orange skin? Check. His Hott is begging for attention and he's texting his buddy, "Bro teh club is bombass WTF" WTF indeed Goose, WTF indeed.

Anonymous: Crimson hands down - the terds appear to be at least partially playing it up, and I question if the chick in DS is PTP. That leave Crimson in a landslide.

Well said, we must give massive (dis)respect to the inane combo texting + Goose Running that C.G. displays while ignoring the boobie rub hott. If that ain't the raisin d'etre of this site, than I'll be a dancing Malaysian tree frog. That being said, Deep Scrote and his Texas Boobie Hottie Suckle Thigh came in a close second:

Matt: Deep Scrote FTW...the smooth hemisphere of his head above his mandana is a disturbing counterpart to the perfect, smooth hemispheres of her boobs.

Anonymous: Tex's chin pubes are classic

Phlerbert: Deep Scrote has convinced me that the secession of Texas is actually a good idea.

Anonymous: Deep Scrote is the embodiment of evil in the modern world. He not only gets my vote for the weekly douchebag award, but also my vote for a lifetime of complimentary planned parenthood. Please God, strike from him his Precious Bodily Fluids! Preferably into an all consuming subducton zone!

I don't know what a "subducton zone" is, but I'm in complete agreement. Deep Scrote deserves a 2009 Douchie Nomination for Douchiest Chin Pube Configuration. That flavor savor was rank. But I agree, the hottie may have been Paid-to-Pose. And the Terds also found strong support:

Electric Douche-aloo: I think I'm gonna have to go with the Terds. I came to my decision after seeing what look like eskimo boots on their feet. Wow.

Anonymous: Tough choice this week but I think I have it figured out. Nothing screams douche louder than wearing a full length, 100% real immitation rat fur coat when it's 80 degrees out. Sarah's Terds FTW.

Snoop Douchey Bagg: Not only are they wearing fur coats, THEY ARE WEARING UGGS!!! Terds FTW

But in the end it came down to HCwDB basics. And burnt orange texting goose fondlers in the presence of suckle thigh touching herself is a clear Weekly winner. Or as Lulu puts it:

I'm voting for the bookshelf wallpaper. It really classes up sub-basement.

Indeed it does, Lulu. And Deputy Douche brings it home:

Crimson Goose. You know that if he's around you would not be having a good time.

True that, as the homies say in McDonalds commercials. Book these two a ticket for the Monthly. Crimson Jerz Guid is still mockworthy, and boobie rubbing is always a plus.

Okay, this happened back in February. But we're a little slow and hungover around here, so lets call it breaking news:

----
Audiger Sued Over Trademark Clothing Line

The Associated Press
Posted: 02/02/2009 09:44:03 PM PST

LOS ANGELES—Clothing designer Christian Audigier is being sued by tattoo artist Don Ed Hardy for allegedly distributing Hardy's trademarked clothing line without permission.

Hardy filed a lawsuit Monday in Los Angeles County Superior Court, seeking $100 million in damages from Audigier's company Nervous Tattoo and several other defendants.

Hardy claims he and Audigier signed a contract in September 2005 that allowed Audigier to promote and distribute Hardy's work as part of a clothing line.

The lawsuit claims Hardy terminated the contract in August after discovering Audigier did not fully pay royalties to Hardy and underreported the sales and income from the clothing line. Hardy also claims Audigier launched a competing product—the Christian Audigier clothing line—using Hardy's trademarks without permission.

The lawsuit said Audigier has not stopped distributing Hardy's work and claims the contract is still in effect. Hardy wants the court to order Audigier to stop distributing his trademarked work and award damages. An e-mail message left with Audigier's vice president of sales in the United States was not immediately returned Monday night.
----

Sometimes you eat the Mo', and sometimes the Mo' eats you.

EDIT: THE WINNERS:

3rd place, Cracked Actor:

Kelly didn't quite understand the concept of giving "head."

2nd place, Shamespear the Magnificent:

The experimental beef jerky hair plugs were a success, but Johnny found they did seem to cause the occasional problem at parties.

1st Place, Douchelexic:

A still-frame from one of the death scenes in Saw MCXLLCIIX

Chia Hawk makes splash?

Chia Hawk finds love.

You can tell, because Chia Hawk's hawk remains erect, even in water.

Yeah, she's not the hottest thing we've seen lately, and needs to eat a cheeseburger or four. But I like my little two picture narratives, so I'm going with it.

Avant-garde art project and afterbirth mistake, Arthur Kade, thespian scroteur, does Gordon Gecko by way of Jerz Douche, all with with a non-working microphone.

No hotts, but one hell of an example of wannabe actor taint.

Nothing charms the wholesome Iowa Corn Fed Hotts quite like wearing a urinal cake as 'bling.

Carol's got that Terri Garr in Young Frankenstein thing, so I'll simply shout "Roll in the hay! Roll in the hay!" and go with it.

In the small towns and backwoods of America, they see what's happening across the nation. And they say to themselves, "Why not here?"

Witness Jebediah.

He doesn't hve the means to purchase a ridiculous Ed Hardy shirt. Nor sculpt intricate facial pube formations. So what's a 'bagling to do when rubbing up on Clarissa, the local hott?

Why, improvise, of course.

I believe it was the great poet Robert Frost who once versed:

'Ere though I walk through a summer's eve,...
That smells as douchey as muttonchop's sleeve,...
Lo! Hark, behold a hott,...
She kisses Muttonchop and becomes infected by the Grieco Virus, only to mutate into a douchebaguette, although her boobs are tasty regardless.

I'm paraphrasing, the actual Frost poem may have been slightly different.

Frost tips and 'bling don't make you a ballsy "Renegade," Jamie. They just make you douchey.

And I see you, Michelle on the left. I know you want me to rub melted candy corns on your lower neck and then jump in a pool full of mint jelly.

And I will do so.

Not because I want to.

But because boobies make it a moral imperative.

What's interesting here is that as the boatbags on the right push in, and the hotts on the left push in, we find a delightful little Pixie Hott crushed in a hott/douche vortex.

Note Pixie Hott's hat tilt with sticker on her otherwise wholesome and squishy soft body. This is when hott and douche collide to spread Grieco Virus infection.

Pixie Hott, whom I will call Trina, has become infected by douchal plague.

She needs help.

By which I mean me, softly fondling her inner thigh with an ostrich feather and a Shamwow.

Douchebag Emeritus Brody Jenner knows who he's voting for in the HCwDB of the Week.

Do you?

Your humble narrator, The DB1, is washed, shaved and Shamwowed on this Monday Morning. I got my Corn Pops properly milkified. My hangover is rapidly dissipating. The alpacas are fed. The yaks are milked.

But there is work to do, and I need your help. Which of these three pics deserves the Weekly Mock? Here are your finalists:

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #1: The Crimson Goose

It's about time we get some classic Burnt Jerz Guid back into the mix.

On the left, greasy Jersey douchebag pulling the combo Goose Fondle + Text move.

On the right, tasty Long Island Trashy Hott, all revved up and ready to be ravished.

And the hint of Holy White Triangle? Que bella.

But the topper is the bookshelf wallpaper. Because actual reading is not necessary. Together, you have the vortex of cultural suckage that is the HCwDB plague.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #2: Deep Scrote aka Deep in the Scrote of Texas

Truth is, I have no idea if this is Texas, Chicago, or if Kevin Costner's producing Field of Dreams II: Boobies in the Outfield.

Alls I know is this is classic hottie/douchey spew.

A double play of douche.

A home run of histamine.

A curveball of taint crud.

A something basebally that begins with the same letter as something douchey.

For roided up smugness, douchey Jesus tatts, and a nasty chin pube infection, Deep Scrote deserves our mock.

For great boobs and a clueless, befuddled expression, Texas Rose deserves our lust.

Together, they make Reece's Pooses.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #3: Sarah's Terds

Rarely does a reader 'bag tag make the Finals, but Sarah's tagging of these two Orlando Pimpstas deserves its shot.

The girls are Girl-Next-Door Tourist sexy.

The dudes are rocker douche you scrape off the bottom of your shoe. Combined, this is real world HCwDB in all the wrong ways.

They are "peacocking" in the worst Mystery-ified way.

And for that, they deserve our mock. But enough to win the Weekly? That remains to be seen.

I reluctantly eliminated Descending Ass Pear and Poo (props to Blair for the name) for pro-posery and lack of cohabitation. But methinks that pic is a finalist at the 2009 Douchie Awards for Most Likely to be Part of the Permanent Collection at the Guggenheim in 2023 award.

And (dis)honorable mention also goes to Crappy Gilmore, the boatbaggery of Skinny Ted and the franks-n-beans and potential underage hottedness of The Hebrew Hammer. All just missed the cut.

But them's your three.

Which is worthy?

Vote, as always, in the comments thread.

There is no hope. Even the mannequins are douching it up.

And when the Guidette says "I'll hold it for you," it doesn't mean what you think it means.

Many of us were thunderstruck by poetic inspiration after witnessing Friday's Ass Pear La Plante.

Ass Pear La Plante calls to us. It asks us to step beyond the binaries of race, class and gender, beyond the categories of societal imposition, to consider spectral humanity. The ethereal. The philosophic. The play-doh funbaggery of ass peardom.

Flesh goblets of joy muscle.

Globes of hindquarter.

Bouncy jelly rolls.

They echo through the ages with the spring of youth. A soft, spongey firmness that rebuts the real world impositions of sag, despoiling and decay. Hidden in the dark crevasses between each cheek, we find hope. A future world of singing bluejays and dancing lute players. Rainbows and waterfalls, unicorns and talcum powder butt bongo grabby grab.

Therefore we must pause and appreciate the Ass Pear La Plante, sans douchebag.

For it shows us the way.

Perhaps a Saturday Caption This Pic is in order?

---

After their plane crashed into the Vegas strip, the Brazilian rugby survivors had to find a way to stay... alive!

---

Tony sniffed again. Yes, he was certain. Yesterday's lunch had been chili.

---

As Frank sank his teeth into her right buttock, Allie contemplated particle/wave duality.

What thoughts bubble up in your humble narrator's mind on this cloudy, smoggy, Los Angeles Friday?

How women in sparkley dresses make my happy pants do the rumba.

How the genius of Was (Not Was)'s Hello Dad I'm in Jail was about ten years ahead of it's time.

But most importantly, that as we cascade through the visual maelstrom of kinetic life, we often fail to appreciate the hypothetical potentials some call imagination. It's not all happening in front of the eyes. That's what we so often forget to remember. Or, even more sadly, remember to forget.

Here's your links:

First up, Adam Carrolla does an HCwDB-esque riff on his podcast and bernethy sets it to an actual HCwDB photo montage.

You know what the internet needs like another Arthur Kade? Online Booty Call. "Hey girl. You're hot like snot."

Ed Hardy moves into ladies' underwear.

Animated Gator goes viral in People who look the same in every picture meme. Break.com also features a montage of a Bleeth face.

I don't know who this douche is, but for using the term "living the dream," among many other aesthetic violations, he slurps toad taint.

Fish Slap's Girlfriend. Here's an actual comment left by the Slap: "Hmmmm.....yeauuupp we def had a moment!!! We a perfeeect match.... Ya huurrdddd!!! Misss yewwwww babeeee!!!! Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo "

Criss Angel calls Perez Hilton a douche. Irony meter saws itself in half.

Pop!

And finally...

Ass Pear so choice, it gets a French name: Beautiful Ass Pear La Plante.

In late 2008, we thought we'd successfully beaten back two of the nine douchal signifiers I listed in my book; Hat Tilt and Collar Pop.

Both looked like they had finally bitten the dust as, through negative hott reinforcement, they were driven to the fringe. (Only to be replaced with Orangeness and Ed Hardy, opening two new battles on the front lines, sadly)

Yet here we see Fratbaggery continuing the classic 'bag trends. While mugging Sophie, the cute coed majoring in Econ.

This is troubling. We have work to do.

Sophie needs our help. And by help I mean mocking the choads. And by needs, I mean more beads in boobs.

Nothing communicates "fertility" to the female quite like wearing giant sunglasses on your head, and a calcified whale penis around your neck.

Manuel got paroled,
Nipple pierce scars my psyche,
Sharon paid to pose.

cuddle perky blonde
stabbed in back with Rehab straw
tigress in the sack

-- Bag A

Soul patch collects drips
Mandana hides cock'n'balls
Pierced nipple screams "DOUCHE!"

-- I am Jack's greasy mandana

That strain of chin patch
deserves an apt moniker
under-lip Hitler?

-- anon Gee Bee

Douchebag looks like Rod.
In first Nightmare on Elm Street.
Tina's latin dude.

-- AV

When Mandy joined Kappa Kappa Delta, she soon found out the baddest gangsta on campus was Artie, the neighborhood hairstylist.

EDIT: And the winners...

Third Place -- Anonymous: Jamie Kennedy's last known photo before being put down after going apeshit and holding the stand in's hostage on set of Malibu's Mosted Wanted 2: Epic Baggery in the 'Bu

Second Place -- Shamespear the Magnificent: Disney made a horrible mistake when they attempted to make Jamie Kennedy and Thumblina a powercouple.

First Place -- jonezy: and on the 14th night of Hannukah, Artie gave Mandy her final gift. Anal.

The Boobs are Bright, The Douche is Slight... (they've got the clap!) deep in the scrote... of Texas...

So have we drawn an inverse correlation between the size of a douche's boat and the size of his mandana + hair spike?

She is delectable.

The ratio between boat ownership and bikini hotts is a disturbing one, that merits scientific study in greater depth.

By which I mean me, sitting on my rug, scratching myself and eating Cheez-its.

Sasha Hott writes in:

----
First off let me just say that I love your website and you are hilarious!!

I'm a hot chick that abhors douche and avoids them like the plague but am fascinated with watching them interact in the wild. My hairdresser who is also a hottie with a non douche boyfriend told me about your site and I've been hooked ever since. It's been about a month now.

Today while on myspace I noticed how many douche bags are running rampant on other hot girls' profiles. I had to submit some pics in hopes of seeing them up on the douche bag bashing commentary. Sorry about the wordy message. Next time I'll have more pics and less words, lol.

xoxo,
- Sasha
----

A hot chick who loves mocking the douche and apologizes for talking too much?

Come to my abode, Sasha. I will ply you with tasty Hostess snack cakes and inexpensively priced fortified wine. Like Thunderbird. And Night Train.

We will run naked through the underbrush, then pass out on a hilltop, gasping for air. We will then sip our libations from red plastic cups and sing barrio torch songs under a golden moon until the Northern Lights cast neon tendrils to take us towards dawn. And then I will awkwardly fondle your toes.

Excuse me ladies, but it appears the group of doucheclowns in the back have dropped a Sandbag on your blanket.

Would you like me to clear it off with some Lysol?

Internet D.B.-log pioneer Arthur Kade brings the scrotal infection to a theoretical NYC (without leaving Philly):

----
If you are young, hip, and want the “best of the best” in Philly, there isn’t that much to do at night.

My friends and I always joke that there are only three night time lounges that cater to the level of our crowd, and it’s amazing that you run into the same people every night, and that it gets tiresome hugging and catching up about the same stuff with the same people. It also limits the ability to meet new girls, because everyone knows me, and the reputation is that I am a player, and no girl wants to not be taken seriously if she isn’t in my league (I am now having girls come up to me offering to break my drought, although no one has been over an 8). This is the reason I am always heading up to NYC, but yesterday with the weather and crew that was out, Philly actually had an NYC feel.

We started with brunch at Rouge (My favorite brunch spot because it has a very up-scale feel and sophisticated crowd) and took over the front section of the block because the staff knows us and wants us visible to the public. We ate, and hung out from 1PM to 10PM, and had an amazing time. Everyone was in great spirits; I had several girls walk by and recognize me, with one tell me “I love your website, don’t listen to the haters, they are all jealous”. We talked for a minute and I could tell they wanted more from me, but I wasn’t interested.
----

Don't listen to the "haters," A.K. You are a douchal innovator, and like Typhoid, are to be studied in a jar and pressed behind glass under a microscope. By which I mean mocked repeatedly on the internet until you go away.

Somewhere in this lineup of perfectly formed, A-List top shelf Ass Pear, I've carefully hidden a retro 1970s speedo wearing pornbag.

This challenge is particularly difficult, given the quality of Pear. Only the most experienced 'bag hunters, after they're done appreciating the Pear, can locate this tool.

Look closely.

Can you find the Waldouche?

--------
DB1,

As a native Tampanian, or Tampon, It has lamentably come to my attention that Tampa is becoming, or has become, a douche hot spot as you can see from the very recent picture we took over the weekend.

I have been a follower and fan of your website for some time and I have noticed that Tampa and Vegas seems to get quite a bit of attention. The optimistic side of me wants to think that Tampa and Vegas simply has a more attentive and douche-sensitive population and more cameras perhaps than other cities, but the forces of reality are making me realize that Tampa could in fact just be a haven.

I have no explanation and I can provide no logical reasoning. I was hoping you, with your seemingly peerless douche knowledge, could provide some insight and perhaps recommend a way to reclaim our city.

-Cognize Tampanian
-----

C.T., I can only offer you my detailed and comprehensively developed Tampa Michael Bay Theory, or what I call the T.M.B.T. It goes like this:

Tampa Bay is like Michael Bay.

Both are loud, pointless and go to strip bars.

Q.E.D.

If Adam Sandler mated with a bottle of linseed oil, we'd have the shirtbag pictured here.

Poor Juanita.

All she wanted to do was to make new friends at the San Diego State Freshman Mixer. Little did she know she'd be fending off the semi-employed Crappy G, who was just "in the neighborhood" and decided to "drop in."

This guy is likely a douche. Sadly, though, there's not enough visual evidence to convict. A silly face and a slight semi-ass-grab is not enough, and by law, I must issue a provisional nottadouche (until more evidence surfaces).

So why run this pic?

Because Bottle Blonde's coquettish giggle and sly, shy grin task me to glue sparkles and uncooked macaroni to her upper thigh until I can form a complete mosaic of the Sistine Chapel. At which point I would nibble each macaroni off her thigh, while reciting Dante's Paradiso in its original Italian. And then I would Marcello her Mastroiannis.

At first it seemed like the Vegas rocker choadery of Wings McPoint and the beauty of Elle would be a Weekly winner.

But then Raquel beboobsed into the boobs, along with her Wayne Newton douche. The voters speak:

g0dsluvugly: the concept of douche has always entailed the juxtaposition of internal and external components. that being said, Anchor Chin has mastered fully both necessary elements of douchedome. his douche aura is strong. it ruminates in my psyche long long after the collapsing of my browser. his external manifestation of scrote is no less impressive. he has mastered the spectacle of taint in one of its purest forms. and raquel. jesus christ have mercy on my soul for i have lusted after her mammary glands repeatedly. anchor chin ftw.

Gee Forgé: Anchor Chin Boobs McSuppleMountains for the win!!! For scoring pretty damn close to a ten on the head butt/motor boat desirability scale.

Anonymous: Anchor chin. I like the way Raquel is tipping her head so she doesn't look too much taller than he is.

Azhid: I'll take boobies for 200, Trebek.

Crucial Head: I am voting for Anchor Chin and Raquel. Simply put, I applaud her applause makers. May she jog right into the Monthly. And by ‘jog,’ I mean trampoline. And by ‘the Monthly,’ I mean the tented lap beneath my desk.

The Observation Specialist: Number 2 should win, because that girl has extremely large boobies.

ike: anchor chin chin ftw. for having the bagdacity of being that close to raquel's delicious globes of perfectly soft boobs.

Anonymous: Anchor Chin and Raquel for the win. Too much boobies to lust. Too much poo to despise.

siDOUCHous: While all are contenders, Anchor Chin and Raquel are the embodiment of HCWDB. Anchor chin has no redeeming qualities: he isn't buff, he looks like a tool, and clearly by the facial hair he is a full time douche. A hard profession to maintain in today's job market. Then there is lovely Raquel, who warms us with her smile and cleavage, making us forget for a split second that people like Anchor Chin exist.

Snoop Douchey Bagg: When it's time for my physician assisted suicide, I want Dr. Raquel to smother me to death.

Marcel Douchechamp: As much as I want to chain the Bumpkins to the back of my car and drag them over a gravel road, I have to go with Anchor Chin. There's something about an Adnan Ghalib wannabe that makes me want to... boobies!

Anonymous 3:16: Raquel and AC - do it for the boobies.

Anonymous: Anchor Chin FTW! The Douche/Hott dialectic is in full swing here and there is not denying those BOOBIES!

Excellently argued panel, and it's clear this is a well deserving weekly winner, partly because this toxic commingling actually feels like a real coupling. Which just makes me sad and blue. Coming in a solid second, Wings McPoint:

Seargent Scrote Stain: What is the true essence of a weekly winner? Is it the wood inducing mammary pillows as shown by Raquel? Or is it the complete and utter rage that burns deep within my soul from so much as glancing at Wings McPoint? Judging by the three dead puppies and smashed computer screen in my immediate vicinity, I would have to say that Wing McPoint gets my vote. Now excuse me, I need to go find some kittens to drown.

Anonymous: Wings McPoint FTW. The glasses, hair, 'roids, tatts, drink straw placement...it's a murderer's row of scrote. This guy should be forced to watch "The View" for the rest of his life as punishment for being such a human skid mark.

The View seems a bit harsh for even the worst douchefender. I thought Wings and Elle had the Weekly in the, well, 'bag, until Anchor and Raquel came along. Coming in a respectable third place, the Blumpkins:

euripidouche: smashing blumpkins, because in any well regulated universe even a scrawny douchebag who wears pictures of guns and self styles as a hitman wouldn't get get within 300 yards of a woman.

But the everpresent Anonymous brings it home for Raquel's boobs and Anchor Chin's doucheyness:

Raquel. I try to look away, try to get back to my work and life, try to look at other pics on this site, but that cleavite... it is indeed all that is right and just and perfect in this world... it draws you in and warms you and makes you realize that maybe there is a God and He can indeed create perfection.

And then you look at Anchor Chin. You are mad, angry, but thankfully you can only look for a second because Raquel's swelling calls you back again. Nestle in and vote for Raquel.

And so we did. Perfect sunrise hope of hottness and total tool of douchewankery. That's an HCwDB winner if I'se ever seen one.

Great work everyone. We'll see this pair, and I do mean "pair," again in the Monthly.

----
What's up man--

My friends and I are all actually huge fans of your site--which is why one of them thought it would be a funny prank to submit the "Tai Che" picture of me and my girlfriend.

The picture is admittedly somewhat douchey on the surface, but it is important to note that when we took that picture, we were actually paying tribute to the classic scene from American Psycho in which Christian Bale runs his hands through his hair and flexes his bicep in the mirror whilst plowing that poor hooker.

Hookers aside, my girlfriend is very upset about having our picture on the site, and therefore I am tasked with asking you to remove it, lest I be exiled to the proverbial doghouse. After all, my girlfriend and I are bag hunters ourselves. So, if you would be so kind as to entertain my respectful request that the "Tai Che" picture and all related comments be removed, I would greatly appreciate it, and I might be able to get some of the proverbial nookie this evening. But that's a seperate issue.

Keep up the good work...

Sincerely,
Mr. & Mrs. Tai Che
----

You gain back some mild props only for transitioning from American Psycho hooker references to your girlfriend. But otherwise, not impressive Mr. Tai Che. A 'Bag Hunter you may be, but as a 'bag in that picture, you must take your lumps, not run away.

---
DB1-

Here's myself and a grade-A douche. In real life this guy is even douchier than this pic: his strange beard that seems to extend more onto his neck than actual face, constant aviators and bandana. And of course; just a hint of his v-neck plunge victoria's secret shirt in the picture!

XOXO
-Nora
----

He looks a little like a dressup 'bag, Nora. But since you've got that Starbuck Karyn Thrace thing working for you, and I'm hot for some Starbuck love, I'm a goin' with it.

The Aviatorbag is not the worst we've seen. A stage 1 or stage 2 Southern Granola Crunch.

As to your plunging neckline and wispy hair-on-neck curl, I would awkwardly discuss the avant-garde at a downtown loft happening over wine until you grew bored and asked to see my driver's license so you could make fun of my pic. Hah, joke's on you. My pic is awesome.

----
DB1,

I was wondering around Soho in Manhattan the other day and I saw this display inside the men's Banana Republic on Broadway. Wow.

Who is in charge of dressing the mannequins at Banana Republic these days!?!

- CeeGee
-----

I believe it's this guy.

PIC DELETED

Ah yes, the well known iconic Marxist revolutionary, Tai Che.

Legend has it that Tai Che spent much of the 1960s in hiding, preaching a combination of Frantz Fanon inspired neocolonialist revolution texts, and practicing his sexy beach dance moves.

Yeah, not the most creative rant.

It's only because I'm back in L.A., am out of Corn Pops, and I can't find my socks.

Stupid pair of socks.

Maybe I should buy a few more pairs.

----
Hey DB1-

----

I have nothing to add, Sarah, you tagged them perfectly.

Terds.

Moses Bling and tighty tights with matzoh balls are not kosher for passover, Ephraim.

Neither are the hotlets. Whom may be under age. So please post-date the following comment, and open it on or after 4/21/10:

I would talcum Tiny Dancer on the left's forearm with spackle and then dance a kabuki mime rendition of Tosca just for the chance to get slapped by her angry, protective, older sister.

Some douchebags burn out.

Others fade away.

But Donkey Douche will mack on the hotts forever.

Queens-based Michelle had a long day at the salon. So she rubs her upper boob area and gets her sexy on.

But Crimson Goose has no time for such distractions.

For he must text.

While he cradles his Goose with the tender affections of a newly birthed lemur.

"John" writes in:

----
Hey Faggots,

My name is John, and I hate every single one of you. All of you are fat, retarded, no-lifes who spend every second of their day looking at stupid ass pictures. You are everything bad in the world. Honestly, have any of you ever gotten any p@ssy? I mean, I guess it's fun making fun of people because of your own insecurities, but you all take to a whole new level. This is even worse than jerking off to pictures on facebook.

Don't be a stranger. Just hit me with your best shot. I'm pretty much perfect. I was captain of the football team, and starter on my basketball team. What sports do you play, other than "jack off to naked drawn Japanese people"? I also get straight A's, and have a banging hot girlfriend (She just blew me; Shit was SO cash). You are all faggots who should just kill yourselves. Thanks for listening.

Pic Related: It's me and my bitch

- John
----

"Thanks for listening?" So polite, John.

But I'll have you know that, in my junior year in high school, I was a full-time starter on the J.V. Jack Off to Naked Drawn Japanese People team.

I attempted to play varsity my senior year, but an unfortunate wrist sprain during a particularly intense preseason round of octopus manga sidelined me for the season.

EDIT: For all of those emailing me that this is a hoax, or a 4chan meme, the proof that John is indeed real can be seen here.

In addition to mugging a Gina Gershon cutie, Nerdholio the Hipsterbag has made his decision in the Weekly.

Have you voted yet?

Your humble narrator on our collective journey of taint, The DB1, is back in L.A. and high on life. And by high on life, I mean sipping some tasty Night Train by noon.

Here's your finalists:

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #1: Wings McPoint

From nearly two weeks back, the classic Vegas Nuclear Chin of Wings McPoint, and sexy, confused Elle, are a toxic combination of spew and boob.

Wings brings a number of A-level douchal signifiers to the mix, but do I really need to list them? They should be obvious.

Instead of parsing the taint, just sit back and look at this choad.

And look at Elle's sweet hottness sweetness hott.

Her boobies are pure and clean and wail mournfully for me to rub my hair betwixt them.

Coupled together, they set off destructive fireworks in the breathing tube of underwater hope.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #2: Anchor Chin and Raquel

This sneaky HCwDB pic grows on you like a fetid swamp plague.

At first you think, "Meh, just your average hottie/douchey coupling. Nothing to see here."

And then your eyelids start to twitch.

And twitch.

And twitch.

And suddenly the beboobsing of this pic jump out at you.

As do Anchor Chin's ridiculous chaved chest, douche-pout and chin pubes. And what you thought was benign is suddenly a plague upon your subconsious. And they make you want to palm slap a Brazilian tree frog.

HCwDB of the Week Finalist #3: Smashing Blumpkins

Our second Vegas Pic this week brings The Brunette Miracle of Hott (TBMoH) in a potential paid-to-pose scenario.

Standing with the cast of the Inland Empire version of Smashing Pumpkins: The Musical.

They are three servings of classic Scrotex-Mex.

She is all that is seductive in Sedona.

If group muggings fire up your HCwDB experience, this pic deserves your vote.

(Dis)honorable mention to Snake Scarfgen, the rotating choads and sorority hott of Ashlee's Spring Break, and the classic Vegas pumpedness of The Tipping Point, each of which just missed the cut.

Them's your three.

Which shall earn it's rightful place in the toxic swirl of the next Monthly? That, fellow 'bag mockers, is your call.

Vote, as ever, in the comments thread.