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My dad tries to correct the record on the Optimus Prime story, Shitty Passenger gets mugged, I have mana problems, packing a fake penis in your pants, #MeToo and the duality of abuse, lactating dads, Antoids falls asleep while waiting to talk, a string of very generic parenting advice, to have kids or not to have kids, movies need a man-hating score, newscasters with racist accents, arguing with a Boomer, my incredible speed, the 3-hour GFY marathon, Larry hits 100 episodes, and a Dickhead from Korea sends in a box of snacks; all that and more this week on The Dick Show!

I have just rented 250 of the finest folding chairs money can buy to make sure every Dickhead at Road Rage: Dallas on June 30th at The Door has an ass-holster at least as good as the one I sit in every week to do the show. Based on this new round of legal jiggery pokery, Asterios’ Legal Offense Fund, the divorce of Maddox and Landau, and the escalating beef of Kimball and Madcucks, it’s sure to be one hell of a show. If you don’t have tickets, buy them here! But first…

They removed the swimsuit competition in the Miss America Pageant because the judgement of women based on the kind of curves human beings find appealing versus the kind of curves advertisers find appealing is no longer in line with the values of modern America. Maybe we should replace it with something more suited for modern America, something like the “#Resisting” competition, or the “Most Affected by Other’s Misfortune” show, or better yet, how about the “Most Abused in a Relationship They Willingly Subjected Themselves to for Years” contest? It would draw the most clicks. It’s part talent and part pageantry–the talent of weaving symbiotic emotional dysfunction into a tapestry tell-all of passive aggressive character assassinations, the weaponization of sex as “assault”, and the savory, humiliating details–God the details; and the pageantry is in the “closure”, the wisdom gained, the betterness, walking the tight rope between a public service announcement and a revenge so vicious everyone can’t help but get on board.

Men and women staking their claims over abusive relationships is like watching a soccer match between the LA Galaxy and Mike Tyson. The Galaxy might play a hell of a soccer game, but the only reason people are watching is to see what Mike Tyson is going to bite off and/or rape after the game ends.

Here’s a good rule for life, but it’s a better rule for spectators of life. If you don’t like something, don’t do it. If you’re already doing it, change it. If someone is stopping you in either of those cases, it’s either a crime or it’s something you want because the alternative sucks more–and it really does.

Part of growing up is learning how to deal with someone fucking up their own life. You know there’s nothing you can do about it; no matter how badly someone is letting themselves get fucked over, forgotten, taken advantage of, beaten, bruised, BTFO, and otherwise used like a human meat machine that turns oil into money, money into sex, or sex into attention, there’s nothing you can do to change it. The grass isn’t always greener on the other side, in fact, grass doesn’t exist, and there’s no set of magic words, magic money, or magic dickings that will fix their stupid brain and suddenly everything is a lot easier to understand. There are no such things as diamonds in the rough and in the game of Rock, Paper, Abuse, familiarity wins every time and will until a patch gets released that nerfs childhood or the Sunk Cost Fallacy big time. Dealing with it is ignoring it, not wasting time on it, secretly loathing it, building up resentment toward it, and lashing out whenever you see it in others. That’s called “understanding”.

People tend to get angry in proportion to what they can’t control. Guy driving slow in the fast lane? Incendiary fury. Not drawing enough land cards to play your Planeswalker? Rage-quit, thrown feces. Not being able to hear your wife over the sink running? Murder/suicide. Retirement plan projections not matching up to your stated goals in 30 years? Meh. That’s your “B”. I’ll leave it up to you to decide where women putting themselves in shitty situations fall on that spectrum.

We used to live in a more civilized age, where men wore suits, women carried handkerchiefs, children said “Booya” instead of “Yeet”, and dysfunction as a form of entertainment was compartmentalized to only the absolutely destitute and therefore un-relatable to the temporarily embarrassed American millionaire at large. The poor, the uneducated, and the trailerest of trash. They were quarantined and destroyed using technology, and we could laugh at abuse for the quagmire of unfixable wrongness that it was. The most resilient of our cynics could harden their nihilism in ways that were “Too Hot for TV” for two easy installments of $19.95. But we are no longer so fearless. Everything is relatable. We pretend to care and learn and in doing so, we have become strong. Our empathy guides us to punish. Our understanding provokes us to judgement, our wisdom to action, and our fear gives us strength. And the installments never end!

“A Little Dick Tip For Ya” by F1NG3RSMUSIC.



“Snacuck” by Kale Underwood.



“Asterios Dying Remix” by Sean Humannity.



An acoustic Dick Show Theme Cover by Blackstone Jimmy.



And of course, thanks for the snacks, the bidet, and the mason jar bong! I can’t wait to use all three.



A thumbnail of bum justice by Andy Lee AKA CallOfTheDeep.



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