Blind Date...Well sorta...

The other night I went on a blind date with this chick I met on MySpace. We'd emailed once or twice, but never met in person. So finally I called her up and asked her out. And since I am Dyckerson, she naturally accepted.

We were planning on going to dinner at around 6:00, but then the bitch called and asked to change it to 6:30. Something about having to work late (yeah, right). She said she'd call me when she got off, so I decided to put on my favorite pink t-shirt, grab dinner with my brother at Taco Bell, and meet her there afterward.

So I'm sitting in the fucking restaurant for what seems like an eternity waiting for this broad to show up. Why do women take so damn long to get ready for a date? What the hell was she doing? Shaving her legs?? Anyway, finally I try to call her again...only now she's pretending to ignore my phone call. Then she calls me back, and all the sudden a group of illegal immigrants storm into the Taco Bell and start singing the national anthem in spanish. The chick says, "Oh God, what is that?" I tell her to shut the fuck up and get over here.

Another two or three hours go by. Then I see this hot little chick of questionable ethnic background pull up in a cheap foreign car. She climbs out, approaches the glass door, and walks straight into it, shattering the glass into a million pieces. Well at this point I've got a mouthful of nacho supreme, so my brother gets up and ushers her to our table.

We talk for a while. I inquire about her ethnicity, and it turns out she's a "half-&-half." For some reason this made me need to vomit, so I excuse myself to the little senor's room. When I return, I find out she has ordered sodas for me and my brother. We continue chatting as I drink my soda, and soon I start feeling dizzy and light-headed. Turns out the bitch spiked our sodas with booze! My brother and I were both drunk off our asses! I had to leave the table to go vomit again...three more times!!!

Now it's getting late, and they're getting ready to close the Taco Bell. My brother got a ride from his girlfriend. I'm still drunk, so the chick offers me a ride home in her cheap foreign car. At this point I have no choice, so I reluctantly agreed. While we're in the car, she offers me what she says is a mint. Turns out the "mint" is really an Ecstasy pill!! What the fuck??! I immediately spit it out, but it hits the window, and the dame starts laughing her ass off at me: "BWAHAHAHAHA!!"

Finally we arrive at my crib, and I'm relieved, thinking this disastrous night was over. But then she pulls the old "can I use your bathroom" routine, so I had no choice but to let her in. Turns out she really did have to use the bathroom...apparently the big beef burrito she ate earlier didn't agree with her. Good God almighty, that half-&-half stunk up my whole house!

Then the moment arrives. We're standing close to each other. I'm looking down at her, and she's looking up at me...complete silence. Then I whisper to her, "My house smells like shit!" Then she says, "This isn't the time or the place." So I kicked her out the door and had my phone number changed.



A Message to Pharmaceutical Companies

If you can make a pill that can give a 90-year-old man a hardon, why can't you make a pill to take the place of sleep? I'm not talking about No-Doze and the like - those only provide temporary relief. I'm talking about a one-a-day type pill that completely replenishes the body and eliminates the need for sleep.

Think about it. We spend a third of our lives sleeping. Assuming you live to be 100, that's 33.3333 etc. years. Actually, let's assume you live to be 99. That makes it come out to a nice, even 33 years. And frankly, you'll probably never miss that extra year. I mean, chances are, you'll be a vegetable at that point.

Getting back to the topic at hand. A sleep replacement pill would be a like a license to print money. Think about how much better our lives would be if we didn't waste a third of it in the sack. Here are just a few examples...

  • You could work a second job and double your income. You could be a brain surgeon during the day...but then for a little variety, you could be a proctologist at night. Or vice versa.
  • You could take up some extra hobbies...like golf, tennis, sailing, fishing, ballroom dancing, piano, guitar, clarinet, stamp collecting, knitting, painting, and whitewater buttfucking.
  • You'd have two extra meals a day. We'd introduce brunch as a permanent meal at lunchtime. Lunch would remain, but would be eaten at dinnertime. Dinner would then shift to around midnight, followed by a 4am meal that I call "splunk."
  • You'd save a fortune on mattresses, bed linens, pillows, pajamas, night gowns, Breathe-Right strips, sleeping pills, and alarm clocks. If either one of your jobs is in any of these industries, you're fucked.
  • The band R.E.M. would have to change its name. But they haven't had a hit in 20 years, so who'd notice?
  • You'd have twice as much time to worship me and study my teachings. I'd have twice as much time to brainwash all of you.
  • You'll no longer be able to say you're "sleeping with" so-and-so as a euphemism for having sex. Instead, it'll be something like this: "Honey, I have something to tell you. I've been sitting with your sister."
  • The hotel industry would collapse. When travelling by car, keep your luggage in the trunk. When travelling by plane, rent a locker at the airport. Bathing will be difficult at first, but gas stations would soon respond by adding shower stalls to their restrooms and charging $3.00 per minute.
  • Light bulbs would have to be replaced with far greater frequency.
  • Lambo's posts would still make no sense. (I mean, some things never change. Am I right people??)

And that's just a tip of the iceburg lettuce. Surely there are billions of other benefits from not having to sleep. So come on, Pfizer! Get with it, Merck! Give us a drug we can really use!


Have I Offended You Lately???

This has been a banner week here at Dyckerson HQ. Seems I've been pissing everybody off lately. Let's run down the list, shall we?

Of course, I remained banned from the Medialine message board. Nothing new to report here, except that my informers tell me the place is rapidly decaying in my absence. Assclowns like Produce Boy get to spew their oral diarrhea virtually unscathed, while upstanding citizens like myself are thrown out like last night's crackwhore.


Then, over on the always-crappy TV Spy/Watercooler message board, I get chastised for making light of the recent death of Don Fitzpatrick. For those who don't know, Don was a consultant in the TV industry. Consultants are worthless parasites and are widely hated in this business, and Don was no exception...that is, until he croaked. Then everybody loves him. That's right, these are the same people who wanted to kill him for constantly deleting harmless content on the message board. It goes something like this...

Before Don Fitzpatrick died: "You Nazi prick! Why did you delete my post asking about TV stations in Dallas? Are you fucking retarded or what?? I hope you catch AIDS and die!!!"

Same guy, after Don Fitzpatrick died: "I am just shocked and saddened by this horrible news. Don was a swell guy. My prayers go out to his family."

Dyckerson: "Ah, screw him. Maybe now my posts won't get deleted."

Same guy again: "Dyckerson, you are a heel! A worthless pile of scum! Shame on you!"

Now I should point out that I have never been banned from TV Spy, but that's only because they apparently haven't figured out how to do that yet. I am quite certain that if they knew how to ban me, they would.


Moving on to italk2much.com. This is the site where a group of self-proclaimed bitches insult other people's blogs for their own personal amusement. I had submitted my blog for review about 32 years ago, and last month, I had the audacity to inquire about the status of my review. I was promptly and publically lambasted and ridiculed. This sparked a heated shouting match, and long story short, I have now been effectively banned from their site. Now, when I type in their URL, I get redirected to this brilliant site. Wow. It must've taken someone at least five minutes to come up with that.

So what gives? Were the bitches actually offended by something I said, or are they just intimidated by my far-superior DYCK'D blog? I suspect the latter. The bitches sure know how to dish out the verbal barbs, but they're no match for Dyckerson's artistry and skill. Now I urge you all to visit italk2much.com and submit my blog to be reviewed. This will flood their email in-box and hopefully drive them to insanity. Come on, people! Let's get to work!!


Next, today I found out I pissed off one of my Mighty Blog affilates - Andrena, from Andrena's Ankh. Andrena recently published a racist post in which she criticized "black folk" for always being late. I figured as long as we were in a racist mood, I would seize the opportunity to make an amusing joke involving "darkies" and "watermelon." Classic stuff, really...or so I thought. But I guess it's only OK to make fun of black people as long as you yourself are black.

Andrena darling, you don't know me very well, do you?? I was once banned from a message board for calling an idiot a "coon" 513 times. (I know it sounds bad, but he was a race-card-playing hatemonger, and I was giving him a taste of his own medicine. He was eventually banned, and I was reinstated.) And I won't even get into the time I tried to sell pieces of the Columbia space shuttle on eBay the day after it disintegrated in February '03. So show me some friggin' respect, woman!!!


And finally, there's my pretend wife RevRee. I think she's pissed at me too. It's been days since she has cyber-serviced me, and I am really itching for a release. Could it be that RevRee is really a double-agent working for italk2much.com? Or maybe she's a descendent of Don Fitzpatrick?? I know she's only a 50% darkie, so it can't be that. I am perplexed.

So that's the list. If your name isn't listed, don't despair. I'm sure I'll offend you sooner or later. Just be patient.


It's Fun to Stay at the I-C-U

This is your pal M.D. coming to you from the intensive care unit of Dyckersonville General Hospital, where I am recovering from a day filled with indescribable pain and agony. Allow me to excrete myself.

Every year my company sponsors a day-long outdoor training program at the local YMCA. It's called the "Ropes" course, and it is supposed to be a team-building exercise. But in reality, it's just a paid day out of the office. Sounds like a good thing, but as it turns out, I'd have been better off if I had just stayed in my cube listening to Asian guy pass gas.

Besides being a free vacation day, the "Ropes" course is an opportunity to touch people you barely know in places you'd rather not. That's where the team-building thing comes into play. You see, the course is a series of obstacles that require the team members to work together in order to complete them. For example, having three middle-aged women with bad backs try to lift a fat guy over a 50-foot high wall using nothing but splintery 2x4 and a length of twine. Or forming a human chain balanced atop a high-tension wire that was clearly designed to only carry the weight of one midget. Or attempting to lift an oily, wet, mosquito-infested tire over a 20-foot pole by standing on top of someone's head.

And all of this is done while the company jackass stands in a corner with a digital camera to document the humiliation for future blackmail purposes. And please, before you go there, I've heard every dumbass "Survivor" joke you could possibly think of at least three times today.

So as a result of today's festivities, I am now suffering from blisters, bruises, bug bites, scrapes, scratches, sunburn, and ropeburn. And not only that, but I think I caught crabs from the office skank. Any of these afflictions would surely kill an ordinary man, but fortunately, I am Dyckerson. Now if you'll excuse me, it's time for my nurse to empty out my crap bag. But no pain medicine for me...I'm a scientologist.

BTW, here are some pics of "Ropes" courses at other YMCA's to give you an idea of the sadomasochistic shit that takes place:




Fun With Spammers III: The New Blood

***UPDATED 04/13/06***

It's time for yet another installment of Mighty Dyckerson's FUN WITH SPAMMERS!!! Today's contestant is Barrister Kevin Wason, of the Republic of Benin! Let's read what Kevin has to say...

Dear Friend,

I humbly crave your indulgence in sending this mail, if the contents does not meet with your personal and business ethics, I appologise in advance.

I am Barr. Kevin Wason , a solicitor. I am the personal attorney to Engr. KIM PAUL , A national of your country, possibly Could be your brother, who used to Work with Oando Petroleum Development Company [West Africa],Cotonou Branch hereinafter shall be referred to as my client. In 2003, my client, his wife and their two children were involved in a plane crash in a village called Adjarra near Porto Novou after take off from Cotonou here in Benin Republic.

It was unfortunate that my client and his family all lost their lives in the crash. For more on the plane crash logon to http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/3348109.stm Since then I have made several enquiries at your embassy here in Cotonou and Porto Novou to locate any of my clients extended relatives, this has also proved unsuccessful.

Then I have to contacted you to assist me in repatriating the money and property left behind by my client before they get confiscated, frozen or declared unserviceable by the bank where these huge deposits of $5.9 milion were lodged. Then when you contact me i will give you the other informations,on how we will do it. You can call me with this number +229-932-006-16.

I am waiting your urgent reply.


Wow, that is quite a steaming pile of rat feces, Kevin! Here's the email response I sent him...

Barr. Kevin Wason, an angel must have sent you from Heaven. I cannot tell you how many nights I have stayed up wondering whatever happened to my long lost brother, Engr. KIM PAUL. I had almost given up hope of finding him, but then you walked into my life.

My brother was successful businessman, and his work often took him to faraway places like exotic Cotonou and beautiful Porto Novou. So I have no doubt that it was he and his family that perished in this horrible plane crash.

You may dispose of their bodies at your discretion, but I would like to discuss that $5.9 million. My understanding was that the money was left inside one of 26 numbered cases, and that the other cases contained smaller amounts ranging from one penny to $750,000. Do you know the whereabouts of these other 25 cases? If so, I will have my banker call you and arrange a deal.

In the meantime, you may read about my efforts to locate Engr. KIM PAUL by logging on to http://mightydyckerson.blogspot.com. And please do not apologize for the contents of your email, because like you, I have no ethics whatsoever.

I thank you muchly, and I await your urgent reply.


Well, we have a live one here, folks! The game continues!! Here is Barrister Kevin's response...

Hello, this is barrister Kevin Wason from Benin Republic. My friend it seems to me that you are using this issue as a joke. This is not joke my friend i you can help me out kindly open your self to me. But if you can't tell me let me look for another person as you can see that the bank give me a limited time to provid the next of kin to Engr.Kim Paul.

I am waiting for your response.


And here is my reply...

Barrister Kevin, please forgive me. At first, I thought you were just yanking my crank, as we Americans say. But now I see you are indeed quite serious. I am now prepared to open myself to you in every way possible. In fact, as I type this email, I am completely naked. Engr. Kim Paul is dead, and that's a dirty rotten shame. However, I am still alive, and that $5.9 million sure would go a long way toward easing my pain. How may I assist you in getting these funds transferred to my account?

Please reply without delay.

The fun continues on day #3! Here's more from our friend Barrister Kevin...

Honestly and frankly speakings, am very happy to your immediate response with my request to you, Then regards to your question how we will do it is here in this write up ... Infacts, if you are really interested to do this deal with me kindly furnish me your full name as well as your residental address together with your direct celphone number and fax ... I am expecting your call for oral conversation, and also try to keep the high secrecy of this transaction as bank can not know that i am using you to claim this funds ... Mean while if i get your mail back i will send to you the deposit certificate of the fund and death certificate of Engr. Kim Paul.

And here's the response from yours truly...

Now we are getting somewhere. I am glad we are able to speaks both honestly and frankly. I have been the recipient of oral conversation many times, but I have never given it. However if you can show me your technique, I'd be willing to try. Do you have any diseases I should know about? I just want to make sure you're clean.

By the way, I don't give a shit about Engr. Kim Paul's death certificate nor his rotting carcass. You see, I killed him, and now I'm after the $5.9 million. So don't bring up that bastard's name again, or I will kill you too, Barrister Kevin.

Now let's get on with the oral conversation, you foreign fucker!

This guy never gives up! Read on...

My friend i am telling you these from the desk of my truth.I want your help, i'm serious unless you taking your self out from these deal i brought to you. I am not a scamer so, be warn on how you are using words on me.See, it is not a must that you will help me, if you can't just tell me let me look for another person period.

And my final response...

Dude. How can I make this any clearer?


Got that???

You have been made the subject of ridicule and amusement on Mighty Dyckerson's MIGHTY BLOG at http://mightydyckerson.blogspot.com. Thanks for the laughs, but I am now sick of you. Be gone.

Now we have reached the end of another edition of Mighty Dyckerson's FUN WITH SPAMMERS.......or have we???

You can read more Mighty Dyckerson's FUN WITH SPAMMERS here:


I Want My Neighbors Dead

The upstairs neighbors in my condo building, I mean. If they're not fucking the hell out of each other at all hours of the day and night, they're blasting their shitty music out of their shitty stereo. And the only way to get them to knock it off is to put a few dents in the ceiling with my trusty broomstick. This has been going on ever since these assholes moved in here a year ago.

And today opened a new chapter in this never-ending nightmare. I had just finished a delicious Kit Kat bar and was heading for the crapper for my afternoon constitutional. As I reached the outside of the bathroom door, I stepped in a puddle of soggy carpet. My first thought is a leak in the hot water tank, which is right beside the bathroom. But a quick inspection turns up negative. It was as dry as a bone. So was the floor in the bathroom itself, which ruled out anything in there. Then I looked up, and there it was...droplets of water hanging from the ceiling above my bathtub. That's right, the fucking idiots above me have a goddamn leak.

Do they even know they have a leak in their bathroom, you ask? Of course they do. Do they give a shit? HELL NO. Why not? Because they're the center of the fucking universe, you silly goose! Everything revolves around them, and no one else matters! I mean, what other assumption can you make? These people are fucktard assholes of the highest caliber. And the really amazing thing is, they're not even aware of the level of their own assholery! In fact, they actually think they're the fucking victims here! They've gotten the local donut monkeys involved on one occasion, and they had the fucking nerve to complain to the cops about me pounding on their floor!

Now if you've been keeping up, you know I've been in the process of moving out of this dump. Crippled chick finally signed the contract to buy my condo (sucker), so now I've got to get the building's maintenance flunkies in here to fix the damage before the buyer shows up with her inspector, or the whole deal could get killed. Fantastic timing. Well done, you fucking bastards.

So I'm going to just lay it out on the line here. I want to hire someone to kill my neighbors. I'd gladly do it myself, but I'm not good with a gun, and I don't want to risk staining my good cutlery. I'm thinking maybe fifty bucks for the two of them. I'd offer more, but I've already got a contract out on Howie Mandel, and I don't want to overextend my credit. So if you're interested in some quick cash, submit an application along with three references and I'll get back to you.


Katie Gives NBC The Finger

So everybody in the media is going apeshit over Katie Couric going to CBS. She'll be anchoring the CBS Evening News and contributing to 60 Minutes. The message boards are teeming with self-proclaimed experts predicting what the outcome of this will be. Everybody seems so fucking sure they know what's going to happen. Some say it'll be a huge ratings boost for the eyeball network. Others say it's career suicide for Katie and her oft-televised colon. Well guess what. NONE OF YOU KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN, so why don't you just SHUT THE HELL UP??!!

It's like my dear beloved Grandma Dyckerson used to say: Opinions are like assholes. You shouldn't stick anything in them unless you're sure you can get it back out. (Grandma Dyckerson was a little odd.) Besides, who gives a damn what happens to that irritating old cunt? She stopped being watchable in 1994.

I'm more interested in her Today Show replacement, Meredith Vieira. How the fuck does a game show host get a job co-hosting a morning news program? I can just see her interviewing some distraught mother whose daughter has just been killed by a drunk driver:

Meredith: "So how does it feel to have lost your daughter so tragically?"
Distraught Mother: "Oh, it's unbearable. Every day is a constant struggle."
Meredith: "Is that your final answer?"

I mean, what's next? The NBC Nightly News with Wink Martindale?

Hey, here's an idea. Dump Matt Lauer and replace him with Geraldo. Then you'd have Vieira and Rivera!


Be Like Dyckerson in Ten Easy Steps!

Being Dyckerson means being worshipped and adored by millions of people. Dyckerson is a modern-day hero...a role model, if you will. In fact, hardly a day goes by without someone asking how they can be more like me. So in the interest of helping my fans become more Dyckersonesque, I have compiled the following list of pointers. Take notes!

1. Find out what annoys people and use it against them. For example, if you have a reader who is particularly sensitive to foul language, be sure to use it as often as fucking possible, damn it!

2. Take advantage of current events to create a firestorm. Remember when the space shuttle Columbia exploded a few years ago? Within hours after the news broke, I went in a chat room and tried to sell pieces of the wreckage. I'm still getting hate mail!

3. If it has breasts and a vagina, flirt with it. Turn everything they say into something dirty and sexual. And if they act offended, do it more! The broads love that shit!

4. You can get a lot of mileage out of one-liners. Message boards, chat rooms, blogs...they have a million and one uses. They don't always have to be funny. They just need to sound like they might be funny. But if you can't even do that, just insult someone's mother.

5. Be mysterious, and leave your audience wanting more. I cannot stress this enough. No one wants to read a 500-word essay about your toenail clippings. Reveal only small portions of yourself, and let your readers imagine the rest. For instance, many of you know what city I live in. But did you know that as a child, I liked to stick raisins up my nose?? I didn't think so!!

6. Kick people while they're down. If someone loses their job through no fault of their own, call them a worthless pile of garbage. Urge them to kill themselves. This is one of the most satisfying parts of being Dyckerson!

7. Build up a cult following and brainwash your members! Take Lambo for example. She used to be a goodie-goodie religious freak. But thanks to my teachings, Lambo is now a foul-mouthed klepto who rides a Harley and worships Satan!

8. Getting banned can make you immortal. Over the years, I have been banned from nearly every web site on the Internets. It's not hard to do. Just call an NAACP member a coon. Or threaten to urinate on someone's little girl. You'll be amazed at the results!

9. What good is being Dyckerson if you can't make $$$ from it?? Fake an illness. Tell people you're dying of some horrible disease, and you need the money to help pay hospital bills. Then, when the checks start rolling in, buy yourself an iPod!

10. Above all, strive for excellence every day. When life puts you in a difficult position, ask yourself, "What would Dyckerson do?" Soon you'll be on the path toward immortality.


Welcome to the All-New Mighty Blog!

That's right, do not adjust your computer screens! You are witnessing the premiere of the greatest blog template ever to appear on the Internets!

Gone is the classic puke-green/shit-brown motif you've all grown to know and love. I decided to go with a more muted, subdued, and classy color scheme this time. Take a few moments and bask in its beauty. I'll wait...

...And now, a few points of interest about the All-New Mighty Blog's template:

  • The new Mighty Blog logo was hand-drawn on white Xerox paper using a black medium-tip Sharpie, and is modeled after the logo from a short-lived 90's game show! Can you name that show?
  • The chasing lights that separate the sidebar from the content area are actually not lights at all! They were created in Photoshop utilizing animated .gif technology! Here's an optical illusion: Are the lights moving up or down?
  • Hidden somewhere in the background is a very faint image of the Virgin Mary eating a bean burrito! Can you find it?
Note to all MBN affilates: The new animated MBN logo can be found here: