Episode 217 – Dick on Wonder Bread

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Dealing with the Garbage Store, diversity in serial killing with Mike from Sword and Scale, The Wonder Bread fetish guy calls in to explain himself, Gavin McInnes sends me a rude text, Mersh does a Macho Man impression, face mask stats, seeing my dad’s penis, what Ari’s boobs feel like, Lena Dunham, virtual fans, Trader Jose’s, white women showing off their gooch, and Digi-Nee might chop off her penis; all that and more this week on The Dick Show.

Murrlogic AKA The Wonder Bread Guy
Patron of the arts. Specifically, art of chicks with chainsaws buying Wonder Bread.
Is a Rage!

Not a Rage.
Mike Boudet
Host of Sword and Scale the award-winning true crime podcast.
Is a Rage!

Not a Rage.
The Golden Witch (formerly Digi-née)
Otaku Gonzo Journalist, Light Novelist.
Is a Rage!

Not a Rage.
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Bonus Episode 50 is out! I don’t know why, but it feels big. It feels bigger than five years and five hundred shows and five thousand days without a terror attack. It feels like a true milestone. And we celebrate by having the biggest shouting match Sean has probably ever had in his life. I didn’t know he had it in him. Check it out at the Patreon, and thank you for all your support! But first…

Guy likes Wonder Bread, what can I say? And some kid listening to this show when they aren’t supposed to be will think about it for the first time. “It feels like boobs,” they’ll say. Some kind of sound Ari made will latch onto their amygdala and never let go, and then twenty years later, they’ll be fucking bread and making bread-based pornography, tricking their girlfriend into elaborate bread-based fantasies to get off. The cycle continues and the sickness grows.

There is only bread-sex post-quarantine. Bread lines and glory holes where you meet your yeast mate for fleeting and impersonal fluid exchanges. Maybe you’ll have a dick in your mouth today. Whatever the computer says. It’s a highly complicated sexual fluid exchange algorithm written by a diverse selection experts. Don’t question it. Just suck the dick. Who cares about sex anymore? All that matters is bread.

You’ll save up your Bezos Bucks and rat on your non-anti-racist friends. Karen Koins are going for big money on the International Centralized Privilege Index. Pick up a bag of bug flour on the way home. It’s just as good as the other kind. The brainwaves of a memory triggers an ad in your Augmented Reality contacts. The advertisement is memory based.

You make it home with minimal human interaction and shut down your live broadcast. A three-hundred-year-old billionaire on life enhancing chemicals tips you a dollar. You activate your privacy curtain and get out your contraband equipment. A a mixing bowl, salt, yeast, bug flour. This is all very illegal. You mix. The smell of the electric oven gives you a raging erection. You struggle to knead the dough. Today’s untested vaccinations were stronger than normal. But that doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is fucking that bread.

It doesn’t feel quite right. It doesn’t feel like running for hours and killing an animal with your bare hands and bringing it home and negotiating with a woman for sex, but it does feel like you have power over it. The timer goes off. The candles are lit. It’s “baby-making time”. No one knows where that phrase comes from anymore.

Your privacy shield subscription suddenly fails in the middle of your masturbation and the police execute you in your home. But at least you went out doing what you loved. Fucking bread.

“Burnin’ Down the Barn at Karen Farms” by Riley and Digi-Nee

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