Episode 41 – Dick on Madcucks


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Madcucks vs. Existence, another #1 hit, Lowtax eats a hamburger, our favorite memes, trademark disputes, there are no jokes on the internet, someone threw away all my Pogs, Sean finally is a rage, Uwe Boll the jerk, I offer a bounty for the He Will Not Divide Us flag, wasting Randy’s time in bars, women and their feet, Peach Saliva impressions, rage enabled printers, chest butts, rapid-fire debates, Lowtax laughs in my face, Joe Flacco, the Sean single, a preview of our April Fool’s Day bonus episode, more polyamory, and I finally book a space for Road Rage Philly: Taxation is Theft; all that and more this week on The Dick Show!

MadCucks
Creator of the Bestest Show in the Universes. A Real Writer. Shitposting machine.
Misspelling Sean, Amy Schumer's Comedy Special.
Is a Rage!

Not a Rage.
Lowtax
Creator of SomethingAwful.com, writer, not a boxer.
Trees, Farmers
Is a Rage!

Not a Rage.
See All Co-Hosts

Tuesday, April 18th – Tax Day
Pub Webb, Philadelphia, PA

BE THERE, OR BE AT THE NEXT ONE!

After failing to get a venue for way too long because it’s a lot more difficult than I thought it would be–even though I’ve been at multiple bars multiple times a week for the last 16 years of my life and it seems like they’re mostly as dead as a fucking cemetery and they’d be grateful to host a hundred drinking maniacs for an evening of simple, wholesome, organic comedy, we’ve finally got a venue! Thanks to Sandpaper’s determination in the face of my inability to answer text messages in a timely manner, the first stop on The Dick Show, Road Rage Philadelphia, PA: Taxation is Theft will be Pub Webb!

Here is the link to purchase a ticket. I would like to charge nothing for them, but I know how the Internet works and I know “how asking for it” works, and that would be both. This is the best way I could think of to weed out the fakers and silly pantses from trying to ruin our fun by Ticketmaster’ing the whole deal. I’ll make up for the GFY charge by bringing a stack of $1 bills the size of a small child with me and we’ll all go hit up Philly’s finest Tuesday night strip club after the show. Bring your Adderall and your favorite shoes lines! But first…

GET YOUR TICKETS NOW!

Driving. It’s the opposite of church. It will teach you impatience, wrath, envy, lust in the form of low-key masturbating until a semi-truck pulls up next to you. Driving is a church of misanthropy and it’s confessional is the parking lot, where you sit, bow your head, and spend thirty seconds unloading hate at the person behind you who can’t pull their fat goddamn foot off the gas for ten seconds to let you out of the prison that is your parking spot. Amen.

And it doesn’t stop there. Trying to squeeze between a moron rock and a curb place to make that quick and easy right turn, needing to tear a gas pump out of the ground like an outboard motor because some dipshit couldn’t be arsed to pull up to the pump in front of you properly, the McDonald’s order that you know will get fucked up because the guy in front of you couldn’t pull forward and you had to shout it into the wind. I’m going to call it Parking Lot Dark Energy because it’s the invisible and unknown force that keeps cars in parking lots and drive-throughs, and the idiots inside them, ten feet from one another in all directions. If you drew a Venn diagram of obliviousness and difficulty with spatial relations, that would be this problem, except there would be no intersection because the circles would be ten feet from one another scrolling through Instagram, staring off into space, and/or trying to imagine if they could shove their head up their own ass.

I know this is a good problem because Sean’s rage monster was finally drawn out of his butthole. Hopefully, his songwriting can also be drawn out of his butthole.

Then, Madcucks bicyclers himself into the Dick Studio with an armload of snacks and notes on my performance to promote his new bonus episode:
Madcucks vs. Existence, available on iTunes now! On it, Madcucks does what the real Maddox does in his bonus episode, except funnier and without a carnival-inspired fake currency that you need to have failed at getting a math degree to understand. It’s a funny comedy album and not just because of spite, but because the Madcucks character has surpassed the original. He’s now the Guns N Roses version of the Godfather Theme and not the boring one from the movie. I would be fucked and remiss if I didn’t also mention the glue holding this track together: Hazencruz and GabrahamSandwich.

Then, Lowtax calls in to eat a hamburger and talk about the death of jokes on the Internet. Have you seen a joke on the Internet in the last couple years? I don’t think I have. If someone has a grainy Sasquatchian picture of a joke they’ve seen on the Internet ever since the it evolved from the Wild West into a new-Puritanical cult of bigotry and cry-bullying built on a 24-hour witch hunt cycle, please turn it into a meme and send it to me.

Try as I might, I was not able to trick Lowtax into taking himself seriously, #NotAll90sWebmasters. He did drop some Hot Goss of his own in the form of an old-timey Maddox sperg out, who allegedly sent Lowtax a whiny email complaining about someone else making fun of children’s art. Apparently, aggressively defending his intouallectual property with long emails and the boredom-inducing powers of weaponized pedantism has been Maddox’s since the beginning. Lowtax also tells the story of getting his ass kicked by deranged film-maker Uwe Boll and tells us his favorite meme.

The Fight: Uwe Boll Diggstown’s his critics.
Lowtax’s favorite meme. Possibly Not Safe For Work.

Speaking of trademark disputes, Tyler F. Esquire writes in with some advice on dealing with the trademark application Maddox filed for solo ownership of The Biggest Problem in the Universe. We try to guess why someone would trademark a property that’s been defunct for nearly a year, but we come up short. Maybe you’ve got a theory?

Goss Cops by lakembra, aciou, and samglaze.

Outro theme by Blue Priest Julius.

Dick Pics!

Revealing thumbnail by Brandon of Maximum! Panic.

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