Dick Masterson, Author at The Dick Show

Download the MP3 | Watch the Video

“What have you been up to?”, slime water, the un-skippable cut scene of the National Anthem, defending a woman’s honor and reading between the lines, Mr. Fancypants does a bad job pitching his novel, songs for Denzel, Asterios vs. Madcucks, the Dick Show calendar, life in low-definition, High School Musicals, Facebook News, Christian Ronaldo fighting muggers, Lacy’s non-existent ideal man, expensive bombs, and the ennui of leverage; all that and more this week on The Dick Show!

Layc Nichole Playmate, Journalist.	Is a Rage! Not a Rage.
Mr. Fancypants Author. Weird-pisser.	Is a Rage! Not a Rage.
See All Co-Hosts

The championship sash has been ordered, the venue has been lied to, and the models have been hired! There’s only a couple weeks until ROAD RAGE: LOS ANGELES The City of Failure, October 13th, and according to Diego, there’s just about that many tickets left. Sean will be there, Layc will be there, Asterios will be selling t-shirts; if you care about America, you better be there too! And for maximum patriotism, the venue is standing only! Put buying tickets on your list of shit to do this week in between being outraged at shit. It will change your life.

BUY TICKETS

But first…

eSports AKA televised video games competitions AKA “WTF, people make money doing this?” will have arrived as a viable sports entertainment product when the Department of Defense starts playing them huge amounts of cash to stage ostentation displays of patriotism during their games for recruitment and marketing purposes, including but not limited to, starting every match with the giant un-skippable cut scene that is standing and being quiet and not drinking my beer and looking around at hot chicks’ boobs from behind my sunglasses for the American national anthem.

I’ve disrespected more national anthems at sporting events than I can count because I’m a drunk and it’s boring. If someone came up to me at a bar and shoved an iPad playing the last five minutes of Saving Private Ryan into my face or asked their wife what she thought about the costuming in “Hamilton” before he went to get beers, I would take a knee and then punch them right in their ballsack, not because I’m anti-America, I’m so patriotic the ice hockey foosball national anthem gets me hard, even though it sounds like Charlie Brown’s teacher trying to sing it with a cock in her mouth–I’m just not there to be doing that. I’m there to get drunk and have fun and maybe get kicked out for doing too much of both.

I’m a drunk and I’m bored, and I also have a highly sensitive scam radar, which this is.

We’re a world of fan boys, iPhone vs Android, Nintendo vs. growing up, advertising vs. advertising; and national virtue-signaling is starting to feel like a Spy vs. Spy comic, where both sides will go to any length and resort to absurdist, Rube Goldberg-ian machinations not based in reality to make the other guy look like the asshole. But no one even know what those guys were fighting over, much less which Spy was the good guy. I always assumed it was the white one, but I can’t explain why. Maybe that’s really what all these protests are about.

The national anthem is like dating a girl who insists on exchanging a perfunctory “I love you” every time you talk. It’s annoying, but I get it. It’s important to her. And her ex-boyfriend who had a weird principle about not saying it unless he “really meant it” is the one you’re always hearing her bitch about. He’s an idiot too, but I get it. I’m just sick of hearing aout it. Maybe that’s really what all these protests are about.

The national anthem protests are one more unsolicited “fuck you” in a universe of fuck you’s that is never-ending and always expanding, homogeneous in it’s contempt for me, certain in its exigence, and completely void of creativity as the conceptual “fuck you” gradually finds its quantum in the dumb voice of a new Spongebob meme. I’m annoyed by that, and as I type it, I realize maybe that’s what all these racial protests are really about, some deep, inexplicable sense of being set upon by a universe of contempt and loathing.

Money isn’t the root of all evil, taking shit too seriously is, and this is what happens when you take all the fun, non-serious shit out of life like excessive touchdown celebrations, kick-off returns and domestic violence, you get a bunch of somber opinions and sociopathy pageants. It would be great if everyone could ratchet the seriousness-taking down the contextually appropriate metaphorical equivalent of the PATRIOT Act. Ironically, I think the only fix for all of the above is an entertaining distraction.

Anyway, here’s the picture my nephew drew at dinner. More of this, less of everything else.