Two days with gigantic balls, an Australian takes a trip down Crenshaw, being blessed, the going rate for Thoughts and Prayers, CBD, nanotech, women, and other scams, Zuby Music: the current British female deadlifting record holder, calls in, the legality of telling people to kill themselves, adventures in blackface, Ari has a post-op friend Sean would hit on, auto-continuing subscriptions, the best threesome position, how to fake being a black albino, the decline of nachos, Italian Americans, and Mundane Matt is not the father; all that and more this week on The Dick Show!
Actress, model, singer. Instagram Twitter
Is a Rage!
Not a Rage.
Musician, author, coach, speaker, british Women's deadlift record holder.Twitter Website
Is a Rage!
Not a Rage.
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My two days with giant balls is over, but their memory and the their spirit–their presence and their weight–lingers on. Holding groceries; that’s the feel of giant balls to me now. Holding my laptop by the corner. That’s the weight of my big giant balls. Driving my truck down the freeway; just like driving my balls down the freeway. The people that we meet are just giant balls. The ground that we walk on, big Earth balls. And the sun in the sky: a giant nuclear ball sack. This week, I tell my story of having huge balls for a limited time. I highly recommend it! But first…
Maybe teenage girls have more power than I give them credit for. The power to kill with a word, the power to “influence”, the power to demand, the power to forget, the power to ignore. What the hell happened? They understand all issues, both local and global. And their commentary on them is the word of the Lord. One just gave a speech at the UN for Christ’s sake on the nature of our multi-trillion dollar global economy, the logistics involved, the motives driving it for better or worse, and its impacts on history. I don’t know why this would be or who would allow this farce to happen. Bitch can’t possibly know anything. She’s just a little girl.
I guess it’s entertainment for some people. Screaming hysterically about the end of the world to a bunch of phony assholes in suits who have a pedophile problem back home they don’t want to deal with. It’s the evolution of story, from allegory to fiction to realism to based-on-true-events to reality-based fiction to fiction-based reality. What’s next? Post-modernist allegorical reality of course. I think we might be in that one already, or at least boiling towards it slowly. Life as Rorschach; words and actions and facts and law that cannot be until they are interpreted. Or that word soup makes absolutely no sense, which might be our only weapon against the awesome rhetorical power of the teenage girl. The only thing that beats nonsense is bigger nonsense.
Someone tells you to kill yourself, and you do it, they go to jail. That’s victim-blaming. Why else would they tell you to kill yourself in the first place? You clearly did something! But the process is true in almost all cases. It’s Big Pharma’s fault you’re addicted to pills. It’s Big Gun’s fault many people ran into some bullets. It’s porn’s fault your husband doesn’t want to fuck you anymore. It’s social media’s fault kids are fat and insane. It’s the money’s fault you’re a ho. Oh shit, it’s the money’s fault.
Whoever coined, “money is the root of all evil,” was being too clever for their own good because people took that shit literally and we will fight and lose the War against Money in our lifetimes. Too much of it? You’re responsible for killing the planet, and the people on it, and the homeless on those people, and the immigration in those homeless, and I’m fat because you’re rich–richer than me anyway, and pay for my college, and my kids, and my sex change, and my car. I hate you. Money isn’t the problem though. It’s the Female Teenage Leviathan we keep dumping it into thinking it will go away, but it won’t. The only thing that makes teenage girls go away is the vague feeling that they might have said something stupid.
We make life palatable for teenage girls, we sanitize our thoughts and our morality for them, we put the corpses away on Bring Your Daughter to the Sausage Factory Day; even though it’s all bullshit. Why? Probably too many guys want to fuck kids and aren’t shy about it. Or everyone’s just so depressed inherently they want a teenage girl to look up to them. God did it. And I will pay you not to ask Him for help with it. He’s done enough.
“Deflate My Nuts When September Ends” by Vizzy G
A happy thumbnail for fall y’all by HeHeSilly.