A Few Observations

Just because I haven't been blogging lately, doesn't mean I don't have shit to talk about. The wheels in Dyckerson's brain never stop turning, so I have amassed quite a backlog of miscellaneous thoughts and observations. Here are but a few:

- 1 -

There are no skinny Bridgets. Seriously, have you ever met a Bridget who wasn't a chunky monkey? I've known three or four in my lifetime, and they have all been fat fucks. Now I know what you're thinking. Hey Dyck, what about actress Bridget Bardot? OK, maybe when she was in her prime. But check this shit out:

That photo is pretty unbelievable, isn't it? I had my doubts too, but I found it on the Internets, so it must be real. No Bridget can escape the fat curse.

- 2 -

I frighten people. A few weeks ago, I was in need of some croutons and Lemon Pledge, so I went to the local grocer to do some shopping. I parked the Dyckmobile II in a handicapped spot* and proceeded to make my way across the parking lot and into the store. As I approached the door, out walked a mother carrying a couple of bags. At her side was a young child who looked to be around 4 or 5 years old. She glanced up at me, and without missing a beat, she grabbed the kid's arm and yanked him toward her. An overprotective parent, perhaps? I think not...because just last week the EXACT SAME THING happened again. Same setting, different woman and kid. And it ain't just the broads. The other day I was walking in the county park, minding my own business and enjoying nature's beauty. I was approaching this kid who was standing on the edge of the sidewalk and taunting a goose. Dad was standing about 10 feet away admiring the result of his sperm. He must have seen me coming, because I distinctly heard him say,"Come here, Corey! Come here!"

Now I assure you, I look and dress relatively normal. I have no unsightly growths on my person, nor am I disfigured in any way. Yet something about me makes people want to grab their children. What the fuck??! When I was a kid, my parents let me drink household cleaners and play in construction sites. Hell, once when I was six, I got a hold of my dad's keys and drove his Gremlin straight into the ditch. He thought it was hysterical. So what's the deal with all these uptight parents? I blame the media.

- 3 -

I'm a musical genius. Pick any love song that contains the word "heart" in the title. Now replace the word "heart" with the word "fart" and get ready for endless hilarity!!!

Unbreak My Fart - Toni Braxton
Achy Breaky Fart - Billy Ray Cyrus
The Fart Of The Matter - Don Henley
Fart To Fart - Chris Brown
My Fart Will Go On - Celine Dion
Fart Attack - NLT
Put A Little Love In Your Fart - Dolly Parton
Fart Full Of Soul - Chris Isaak
The Last Unbroken Fart - Patti Labelle
Broken Fart - Motion City Soundtrack
Sin In My Fart - Siouxsee And The Banshees
Pop! Goes My Fart - Hugh Grant
Fart Of Glass - Blondie
Fragile Fart - Westlife

Cold Hard Fart - Bon Jovi
You'll Be In My Fart - Usher
Here Is My Fart - Lionel Richie
Taking Back My Fart - Cher
Love's Got A Hold On My Fart - Steps
Where Is Your Fart - Kelly Clarkson
Listen To Your Fart - Roxette
One Determined Fart - Paulini
Hungry Fart - Bruce Springsteen
Straight From The Fart - Bryan Adams
Piece Of My Fart - Janice Joplin
Listen To Her Fart - Tom Petty & The Fartbreakers
My Fart Has A Mind Of Its Own - Connie Francis
Fartache Tonight - The Eagles
What Do I Do With My Fart? - The Eagles
Owner Of A Lonely Fart - Oasis
Sheer Fart Attack - Queen
Thunder In My Fart - Leo Sayer

Make up your own! Play along at your office Christmas party!!

- 4 -

Alan Alda has lost his fucking mind. I was recently on iTunes looking for a podcast that I could listen to while I walk in the park and frighten people. I've almost been a big fan of M*A*S*H, so I was intrigued by an audio podcast featuring the actor speaking to a group at a book signing. Great, I thought. He'll probably tell stories about all the wacky behind-the-scenes hijinks that took place on the M*A*S*H set! Well I thought wrong. Apparently Hawkeye had a near-death experience a few years ago and consequently gave up acting in favor of philosophy. So I listened for 45 minutes while he rambled on and on about what "now" is. "What is now?" asked Hawkeye. "Now only lasts for a few seconds. Then it's gone, and that now is in the past. Then there's a new now." I'm paraphrasing, but you get the idea. And he said this with all the passion and enthusiasm he could muster.

At last, he opened up the floor to questions. Finally, I thought. Now we'll get some good M*A*S*H questions. No such luck. The first question: "How has your near-death experience affected your perception of 'now'?" Similar questions followed, and Alda ate them up like a bag of pork rinds. Eventually someone had the balls to ask a question about M*A*S*H, but by this time I was so groggy, I didn't even hear it. However, I can tell you that Hawkeye likes to refer to the series not as M*A*S*H, but as "The M*A*S*H Show."

Too bad that near-death experience wasn't a DEATH EXPERIENCE. Am I right people??!!

That's all I got for now. On the next Mighty Blog: My experience as a mall Santa!

* My busted arm is 98% healed, and I don't have a handicapped decal, but I'm not taking any chances.


I Have Returned.

Christmas cums early this year, ladies and germs...for I, the Mightiest of Dyckersons, have returned to The Mighty Blog!!! Let us rejoice and give thanks!!!

I know I've been gone for a while. I missed Thanksgiving. I missed Halloween (the Haunted Poon post was a rerun from last year, in case you idiots didn't notice). Fuck, I even missed the election of America's first Afro-American president, Balack Osama!

The Internets have been buzzing about rumors concerning my absence. Some of you thought I had passed away. Others assumed I was incarcerated. A few of you even thought I had actually gotten a social life and perhaps acquired poon. Well you are all wrong! More wrong, in fact, than Ms. Babble smoking crack during her latest pregnancy, which resulted in her giving birth to a baby with Down's Syndrome.

The truth is, I was the victim of a cruel prank played upon me by a deranged journalist. About two months ago, I scheduled a press conference to announce the release of my new fragrance, Simply Dyck (makes a great stocking stuffer). Anyway, I was standing at the podium addressing a sea of eager reporters, when out of nowhere I was hit upside the head by a fresh turd. It seems old Dyckerson isn't too popular in the Middle East (something to do with a joke I made about a camel and lonely Shiite)...so apparently a reporter from that region somehow sneaked past security and assaulted me with the only weapon he had available - his own feces. I was lucky to escape with my life, but the attack left me so traumatized, that it has taken me weeks to gather up the courage to write about it.

Now before I officially return to blogging, there are a few housekeeping matters that need attention. First, I have removed The Chat Hole from the sidebar. My blog has been plagued with pop-ups for quite some time. I suspect it may have been coming from the third-party chat box code. So if any of you fuckers still get pop-ups, notify Dyckerson post haste.

Second, I removed several deadbeat bloggers from The Mighty Blog Network. This leaves several openings for new top-quality blogs that meet my lofty standards of excellence. So if you wish to nominate such a blog, please feel free to do so. But remember, Dyckerson reserves the right to reject or remove any blog from The Mighty Blog Network without notice.

And finally, it's the holidays!! That means I have replaced the seizure-inducing flashing white lights in the background with puke-inducing colored lights! Now go make a joyful noise...and spread the word: DYCKERSON IS BACK!