Episode 117 – Dick on Memory Rot

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The Dick Show in S.A.P., envelope-pushing hip hop in the 22nd century, medical tomahawk wounds, when apologies don’t matter, muscle memory rot and how I embarrassed myself at tennis, the application of high school Spanish, starting sentences with “so”, people who call you during their commute, John McCain was a front hole and a scumbag, fake compassion for celebrities, back to school problems, a K-cup listener sends in an erotic rage, getting fired for things your ancestors say, the Thousand Island Supreme call, “Mumkey Jones Stops a School Shooting”, and a mystery jokester leaves a voicemail threatening Maddox’s website; all that and more this week on The Dick Show!

Mumkey Jones
Elliot Rodgers approved, part man, part mask, a very famous Videos, doesn't go anywhere without his dakimakura. Twitter.
Is a Rage!

Not a Rage.
Grant Mooney
Co-host of Thought Cops, creator of the Titanic Maddox Lost Cover, News babe.
Is a Rage!

Not a Rage.
The Rommel
Creative force behind Thousand Island Supreme.
Is a Rage!

Not a Rage.
See All Co-Hosts

Hey Moms and Dads, while you’re getting your back-to-school shopping done and preparing for the endless summer that comes from shipping the kids off to the soul-crushing, identity-shredding prison that is elementary school, check out these new items in the The Dick Show Shop! You’re gonna love them. And kids, you don’t want to show up on the first day of high school looking like a jabroni in some goofy shit your mom picked out. Upgrade your gear and get yourself sent to the principals office on the first day with this stylish “DICKHEAD” hat, or this satanic print of me as The Devil from Road Rage: Atlanta available for both men and ladies. Get yourself some cred. Get yourself some front hole only at shop.dick.show

But first…

You and I are afraid of pretty much everything, and why shouldn’t we be? Getting a job, getting into school, getting fat, getting married to the wrong woman, bad credit, good credit, the sounds coming from our cars and bodies, accidentally saying something to a chick that will make her think you’re a dangerous murderer–or not a dangerous murderer enough, mind rot, our friends and families and employers finding out what we’re saying on social media, having a huge, but not huge enough dick, BPAs, cancer, betrayal, opportunity cost, leaving your fly down, a sinking feeling that Trump was scamming everyone about the wall, cirrhosis. These are the fears of the common man.

Politicians, however, are afraid of nothing. Punishment, confrontation, history; they’re immune to these things, and above the moralizing influences of the common man. Beating the drums of war is nothing to them despite what should be the sonder of millions. Showing up for work while people rot in starvation and prison and fear should give them at least the same sick feeling in their stomachs as it does the rest of us when we think about hitting a dog or moving a bookshelf into the next room or our girlfriend spilling their coffee on a bunch of our Magic cards that we left on the table last night, but it doesn’t! They do it with a suit and a smile and pat on the back. Their walls go un-scuffed and their cards get replaced by Haliburton or Google or Wall Street or whoever is signing checks.

Politicians don’t fear waste because it’s not their shit, they don’t fear betrayal because they are in a constant state of it, they don’t even fear death. That’s when they get to give their best speeches. But there is one thing they are afraid of, and you can see it all around: schools named after assholes, mountains names after crooks and whores, courthouses, libraries, the names of the streets and the cities where we live; plaques upon dedications upon consecrations until it’s kudos all the way down, subsidized glory in marble and gold to the degenerates who fucked us out of them. It’s the only thing they love, their memory, and it’s a narcissism baked into our DNA deeper than kids, fascination with parabolic projectiles, and a fear of the dark: legacy.

Of course, it takes a village to carry their corpse across the finish line, but for some reason, everyone’s thrilled to do it. As though the proximity of a legacy somehow makes it shared.

Society is a memory and people are the storage algorithm. We don’t care about the time we’re having, we only care about documenting it, and how it’s documented. Food, buildings, pictures of our own dicks exist only as we want them: as potential, at peace with nature, and always hard, respectively. Every day and in every way these things must be algorithmically preserved or else it’s impossible that they ever existed at all. And when the last bits of data on Instagram’s server farm rots and our final after-work #TacoTuesday Gram goes up in a puff of quantum foam, we will cease to exist. There will be more evidence that the world is flat than that there ever was a you.

The ugly memory of who politicians really are is the only weapon we have against them. They voted and conspired and flat-out duped all the practical weapons away from us, and they spend all day looking for more: speech, the un-democratization force, the regression of innovation, access to our children; they are forever trying to wedge their way in and then name a building after it, but they haven’t taken our memory yet. So let’s remember, in the face of boomer peer-pressure and against tide of legacy and the obsequious compulsion to offer our ass as an oblation to celebrity, that these politicians are all whores, and they are all crooks, and they spent their lives in a perpetual dereliction of duty, dedication to war and death, and that any goodness in them (if it existed at all) was overwhelmingly destroyed by the failure of their service. They should be remembered for it forever, or at least until the data rots.

Fuck the government.

An ominous voicemail from “571972”.

“Suicide King” by Elay Arson.

“TDS Babes” by KenDollinHide

“Party For Me 3” by the Hard Men Working Hard.

Here is one of the many videos I received for my Maddox Book BBQ promotion. Burn a Maddox book, get a Dick Show t-shirt. Watch Maddox’s career go up in flames both literally and figuratively.

And here’s chubbypencil’s Guitar Hero version of The Dick Show Theme. It’s hypnotic. Don’t get stuck in a jerk-off time warp.

Finally, see Asterios as God in “Mumkey Jones Stops a School Shooting”. Everyone is watching it!

A thumbnail that I’m going to staple to the back of my hand by Andy Lee AKA CalloftheDeep!