The DyCkerson Code

My previous post about the idiotic shenanigans of my office colleagues sparked the following cryptic message from Stacy, one of the MBN affiliates:

Mister Dyckerson,

Thank you for the green bean clarification. However, I was honestly more interested in the toppings on your stack of pancakes. I was in the mood for something sweet yesterday.

Sadly, that mood has passed. Now, I feel as though I could chew on a bag of nails. No, it's not PMS. It's an unruly large blubberized fractal of wasted air space that continually aggravates and annoys me to, (apparently), no fucking end!

[deep breath]

Yeah. Sorry for overtaking the comment box with that lovely bit of depression.

I'm going to go meditate now. (Translation: I will be envisioning the demise of my enemy yet again... Incineration-by-way-of-Meteroite.)


Now I don't like to brag, but in college I got a C+ in Remedial Psychology. (Would've been a B-, but I spelled "Id" wrong on the final exam.) So I happen to know a thing or two about the mind. And it doesn't take a Sammy Freud to figure out this message is a cry for help. I re-paste this line for further examination:

Now, I feel as though I could chew on a bag of nails.

As you can see, something appears to be bothering Stacy.

First of all, happy, healthy people do not normally possess an urge to chew on a bag of nails. But why did she choose "nails" here? Perhaps she is unsatisfied with the recent work of a carpenter? Unlikely. A botched job from a manicurist? Seeing as though Stacy is a chick, this has possibilities. But let's read on:

No, it's not PMS.

Here, Stacy states that it's not PMS. Given this clue, I'm going to rule out the possibility of Stacy's dilemma being related to Pre-Minestrone Syndrome. Continuing on:

It's an unruly large blubberized fractal of wasted air space...

Air space is an aviation term. Then we have the terms large and blubberized. Could Stacy be under attack by a rogue Goodyear Blimp? Or perhaps a mutant bird/whale creature? Doubtful. It's possible she is referring to her husband, but close examination of her blog would lead me to think otherwise. She seems to be happily married (or is that just what she WANTS us to think)??? Moving on:

...that continually aggravates and annoys me...

Stacy is being aggravated and annoyed continually. Whoever it is that's pissing her off, it's someone she has regular contact with. Perhaps a neighbor or boss? I think we're getting closer! And finally:

...to, (apparently), no fucking end!

Here we see that Stacy is being fucked, and the fucking does not appear to be stopping. But the question is, does she mean fucking in the literal or the figurative sense? Now I don't know about you, but I happen to enjoy a nice long literal fucking every now and then. I mean, who doesn't?? Unless, of course, Stacy is in the process of being raped. Again, this is highly unlikely, since it's very difficult to type on a computer while being sexually assaulted. Usually the victim is restrained in some way. (Or so I've heard.) Therefore I deduce that Stacy is using the term fucking in a figurative sense.

OK, I have examined all the evidence and have come to the following conclusion: Either Stacy is being violated by a humpback whale with incredible stamina...or her mother-in-law is driving her crazy. Or both.

My work is done here.


~ Stacy ~ said...

I possess an urge to chew nails because I feel angry enough to manage that feat w/o breaking my teeth.

I like minestrone.

I am happily married, thank you.


Goodyear Blimp
Humpback Whale
Mutant Whale
Two-Ton Fudpucker Maggot

Whatever suits your fancy.

There is absolutely NO fucking (in the literal sense) going on with the abusive, sociopathic Obese Oaf! It is more of a mind-fuck; let's see how much harassment ol' Stacy can take before she explodes.

Well, I think I've reached the boiling point; been there and back again and again as far as this sociopathic reject of society is concerned.

Yes. I could use some help, as it seems my torment from said creature will never end. Yet, those involved that could help (in a legal standing) are too fucking blinded by his Nice-Guy-Ted-Bundy-Mister-Manners-I'm-The-Injured-Party bullshit routine. I am doomed to be thwarted by his evil machinations.

Why? Because my blasted morals won't allow me to fight back hard & dirty and that bites blistered bananas! Because I can't afford a lawyer! Because I'm too flippin' honest! Because I don't own an Uzi!

Why can't I be a sociopathic reject, too? It would make strategy that much simpler. He's not the devil, but he'll do.

So, Mister Freud-Dyckerson, your couch doesn't appear to be of much help here. Unless you're handy at lifting and tossing said couch, then, I may be able to make use of your services.

~ Stacy ~ said...

P.S. I appreciate your show of concern and the linky-love, though. Thanks.

'Course, I suppose I unwittingly offered you fodder for posting, so we're square now.

/t. said...

Hello, ~stacy~

I am Hannibal,
a friend of that
nice Mr. /t.

I am sorry to hear of your troubles with Blubberized-Fractal-Of-Wasted-Air-Space. Perhaps I could be of service...

let's do lunch

- Hannibal

Willo Keays said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
puerileuwaite said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
puerileuwaite said...

Even more cryptic and disturbing than the Davinci Code, I suppose. But as long as there's a "Moana" Lisa smiling at the end, count me in for a ride on the blimp.

Crashtest Comic said...

How could you spell "id" wrong, you idiot??!!

It's at least two letters.

tfg said...

It seems rather straightforward to me.

It's an unruly large blubberized fractal of wasted air space that continually aggravates and annoys me to, (apparently), no fucking end!

This means that her husband has been giving her Dutch Ovens at a merciless pace. Consequently, to negate the subsequent trauma, Stacy is yearning for the Kielbasa ala Dyckerson.

Wow. The 9 months I spent slonching a psychotherapist is finally paying dividends.

~ Stacy ~ said...

"let's do lunch"


Thank you, /t.'s friend. [knowing-wink] I appreciate the offer. I'm certain that the Blubberized-Fractal-Of-Wasted-Air-Space would be a hearty lunch date. You may even have plenty of leftovers to take home and put in your fridge.

~ Stacy ~

P.S. I think I love you!

Bob said...

Hannibal, I have met the B-FOWAS in question. I suggest you bring some hungry friends. ...LOTS of hungry friends. ...perhaps Ethiopia.

...and bring lots of Tupperware for the leftovers.

minwah said...


Pud said...

You should be on CSI.

the dude said...

All humpback whales have incridible stamina...don't ask me how I know.

RevRee said...

What does "the cheeses is in the trunk" mean?

Ann Nonymous said...

best thing i have read all hour.

Willo Keays said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Willo Keays said...

dyck does have his moments

/t. said...


those are
movements, willo


(nice avatar)


Mighty Dyckerson said...

TFG - Ha!! Dutch Ovens are funny! But not as much as a Dirty Tony Danza.

DykesDog said...

You should be a Dear Dyck in the paper!

Willo Keays said...

Thanks /t :)

Crashtest Comic said...

yo mama joke contest at my blog.
bring your best stuff, baby!

andy said...

I, for one, am very offended by the Dirty Tony Danza.

Being a victim, Dick, that really hurts. you can never really recover from one of those....Just ask Mona.

Willo Keays said...

should I even ask what that is?

Ann Nonymous said...

Andy, you were a victim of the Dirty Tony Danza?

sloppy syntax