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The season of obligations begins, I send Peach to the hospital, being a ghost vs. being a man, a libertarian haunted house, an apology cryptocurrency, front-of-the-line passes, Japanese suicide phones, men holding hands under any circumstance, the Sean hentai challenge, my Rick and Morty prediction, Lowtax gets banned from Twitter for ACME-based death threats, Sean’s secret Instagram account, a shocking revelation by Peach that upstages my erotic story, smart soda machines, anti-robites and the curse of the blue collar opiate addiction, and Captain Jackass with Hooker News from Facebook; all that and more this week on The Dick Show!

There are still some tickets available for Road Rage: Los Angeles, The City of Failure, where there will be some exciting announcements! Don’t wait to get them at the door. Literally anything could happen. You could get signed up for an improv cult while you’re standing there waiting to buy your ticket. You’d spend the rest of your life Yes And’ing bunch of muppets, pimping Hitler’s space cancer and pitching web series back and forth until your eyes bleed, and that’ll be the last thing anyone ever heard from you. So don’t wait, get your tickets now, but first…

Some people celebrate the end of the year on December 31st, but not me. The year is over for me when I see the first pumpkin of the season. It may be orange or white, it may not even be real, it may just be some asshole’s idea of a joke like a picture of a pumpkin with a tiny face carved into it they call the Dick Masterson pumpkin–Ha ha ha. Very funny, asshole. Either way, that stupid-shaped, warty little prick means only one thing, the Year of the Self is over and the Season of Obligation has begun. No longer will days be spent relaxing or being productive or on doing whatever the fuck it is you want to do when you want to do it. The Season is here, and that means life is soon to become become a gauntlet of “get-togethers” and events and awkwardly unanswered texts about the two, calendar juggling that I can never quite get right even though there’s one that doesn’t work built into everything, negotiating with loved ones over the logistics of snacks and flights and church, and hearing about babies, and hearing babies, and looking not as dressed up as everyone else, and office parties, and your friends are busy, and punting anything that looks like not being a big fat fuck so far into next year you need a horoscope to see it; a three-month limbo that climaxes in a frenzy of reciprocal shit-buying, watching your stores of fat increase and your stores of cash decrease as you gorge yourself on carboholic Pinterest experiments and Pumpkin Spiced Hangover-tinis, and purge yourself of worth on last-minute deals. And then two months of introspection. Baton down your shit because whatever isn’t bolted down, you’re about to lose. Happy 2017, everyone! We’ll get a head count in five months on St. Patrick’s Day, when the last of the Pumpkin Spiced turkey has been shit and the pretending is over.

More Dick Pics.

Ken Doll in Hide keeps it toothy with another Denzel song.



Here is Peach’s pornography gift from Japan. It’s customary in Japan to bring pornography with you at all times.



And if you missed the last three bonus episodes, here they are.



ACME Thumbnail by Brandon of Maximum! Panic.



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