How I ruined Christmas, Sean sends more letters from the battlefield, how to get away with anything, highschool, Madcucks loses his temper, exotic presents from the far East, what exactly is the problem with church, a nationwide database of viruses, a sure-fire gambling system that the casinos don’t want you to know about, a gear-up for the hot, hot, Christmas goss bonus episode, I apologize for my voice, and news about Sean’s “hiatus”; all that and more this week on The Dick Show!
Creator of the Bestest Show in the Universes. A Real Writer. Shitposting machine.
Is a Rage!
Not a Rage.
Author of Toys "4" Cheap, Billboard charting artist of Santa Cuck: Bald Headed Lies. Sneaky.
Fake Outrage, Chik-fil-A being closed on Sunday, Armrest Etiquette, Hot Girls Making Goofy Faces
Is a Rage!
Not a Rage.
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In this episode, I get side-tracked from a story of how I ruined this Christmas with a story of how I ruined a previous Christmas, and when I’m finished, I find I’ve run out of time to tell the story of yet another Christmas I ruined long ago. There’s always next year! But first…
It’s cold and flu season, the time of year that pits a sick man’s sense of civic responsibility and obligation to keep his fellow man safe from contagion, against his equally powerful inner sense of, “eh fuck it. I want to go to the movies.” In this cold Cold War, everyone is a suspect of being a carrier, and most are guilty. I propose a vital, but missing tool in the War Against Presenteeism that would probably sound less stupid if explained by someone with a degree in medicine or bio science–or at least someone who didn’t once receive an “Anatomy for Dummmies” book.
When I get sick, I want the same thing everyone else does: some hot soup, a warm blanket of liquor, and a couple days off to masturbate quietly while watching a marathon of Price is Right, Maury, and The People’s Court. Then, when I’m done being sick, I want to take the law into my own hands, track down the sorry son of a bitch who infected me and show him who his father is. The price is wrong, bitch!
Speaking of ruined days, going to church as a kid cost me approximately a month and a half worth of my time–and what did I get out of it? In all those hours of sitting on a hard bench, singing the same shitty songs, getting in trouble for folding the circular into funny shapes, and listening to nonsense stories told poorly, I can’t remember a single thing. Church is a disaster. Millions of people turn up every week to throw free money at it, and these guys can’t put a decent hour’s worth of entertainment together to save their lives–scratch that, to save their religion! If the falling church attendance numbers are right, His Hipster Holiness Pope Progressive THE FIRST is going to have to do more than shit on the American way of life to keep Catholicism afloat. I propose a set of initiatives to put the “fun” back in Christian Fundamentalism, built not on ideals of suffering and asceticism, but on a different creedo: everything is a contest.
But can I do any better? Find out tomorrow on this month’s bonus episode!
Numero Perdido animates my telling of Trump’s Worst Nightmare.
More Letters From Sean by Asterios Kokkinos.
Madcucks copes with the loss of his audio engineer via voicemail, and he doesn’t do it gracefully.
Here is an un-boxing of Xoce’s care package from Singapore.
(I’ll add pictures in a bit. I’m drunk and in bed)
And a shot of Wes Morris’ Atomic Dick in Dr. Phil’s Head. Check out more of Wes’ artwork as @morristhetatt on Instagram
Outro remix that will cure what ails you by ACIOU.
And a thumbnail of desperation by Brandon of Maximum! Panic.