Primo Levi on Hat Tilt

The great Italian poet and author, Primo Levi, once wrote:

What a very few are acquiring in knowledge of the physical world will perhaps cause this period not to be judged as a pure return of barbarism.

Oh Primo, finding optimism in a world gone scrote. I wish that I could agree with you.

But then I see this. And even the curves of thigh on the hotts are not enough to validate the worth of humanity.

So I crack open a bottle of Night Train I bought from a surly old Korean Deli owner near Wilshire. And I snack on some tasty Hostess snack cakes.

And gradually the dissonant noise of global club culture, the shouting of woos, the pollution of the boobies, the garish garb and shaved chests, all slowly begin to fade and defocus into ambient background noise. Spectral wash. Meaningless abstract detritus to be tuned out and ignored. Like construction work outside your window. Or the joyless rituals of American Idol.

The chaos recedes. The skies open up. And a rain comes and washed the hair gel away.

Like Primo Levi, I find joy where I can.

Because there's always hope to be found, even in a world of hat-tilted designer White Sox caps. There's bluebirds and boobies. Sunshine and suckle worthy thighs. Classical music that transforms the spirit and uplifts the soul, and fantastic butts on 19 year old coeds.

I sip my 'Train, and stare at the setting sun, and all is right in the universe.
# posted by Douchebag1 @ 4:01 PM 4 comments

Ask DB1: Hott Speak

Private School Hott writes in:

----
Dear Douchebag1:

Thanks for the site. I'm hoping you'll give a minor clarification: are your comments demeaning the hotts as Future Hairdressers of America actually a form of self-parody?

Are you trying to act douchescrotey, like in your picture (I'm assuming it's you, and if it is, you look douche-liciously hot). Or are you an accidental d-bag? Douches in glass houses shouldn't throw ice er whatever.

-A hott/ fellow graduate of an expensive private school.
----

I've read this email six times and have no idea what it's asking me. Perhaps someone else can expain it.

However, if Private School Hott has nice inner thighs, I will forgive the incoherence and buy her a number of cocktails while listening to her complain about how, like, her best friend Kimmy is, like, totally a bitch. For hours. While nodding appreciatively.

Yes, Private School Hott. Kimmy is, like, totally a bitch.

Because I'd listen to you read the phone book in Gaelic if there's an off chance the night will end with my powdering your butt cheeks with talcum powder while singing songs of Algerian revolution.
# posted by Douchebag1 @ 11:07 AM 39 comments

M.C. Mesher

Mesher's Swedish fetish porn look causes feral street cats to spontaneously cough up furballs. And while the potential for Gaybag is there, something tells me this is a metro look in the smaller cites of northern Scandinavia.

But Pouty Lost Brunette wears the white frilly top of my luridest high-school fantasies. And so she makes up for Mesher's wrongness. Almost.
# posted by Douchebag1 @ 9:45 AM 33 comments

The Douche-Face

People often ask me, "DB1, how will I know the douche-face when I see it?"

I always answer with the same cryptic Zen response: You will know it when you know it.

It is not about the specifics of the face. Not simply a Ben Stillerian "Blue Steel." It goes deeper. More sunken of cheek. More annoying of pout.

In the presence of the lei biting hott, the douche-face can reveal itself at a moment's notice.

And when it does, be ready. To fling the poo.
# posted by Douchebag1 @ 8:25 AM 24 comments

Friday Haiku

Smirks echo through time,
Like Jersey Girls past thirty,
Where's the White Castle?

Jean Claude Van Douchebag
needs several kicks to his head
to release the hott

-- kissy lips

Recedo Bagg's Hott
Came from set of Price is Right.
He has overbid.

-- jeffbagwell

Hair monster attacks!
Technicolor vomit dress.
But still, I like her.

-- mr. white

when I was a child
I thought my Mom was crazy
recycled curtains