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The rush of getting things done in the last minute, lies in job qualifications, the male charity gap, Mumkey Jones and “The Rise of the Planet of the Incels”, calculating the number of drinks I’ve had, Sean and I discussing the implications of Theseus’ ship in sharing a dick sucking machine, vandalism on Mars, the average woman’s Tinder profile, Special Agent Richard Head calls in, The Dick Show end of year awards, lies printers have told me and Winners Drink, my doxxing screw-ups, pronouns around the table, and I hand Sean a taser; all that and more this week on The Dick Show!

Maybe you’re not like me. Maybe you wouldn’t want to see an email so creepy and laden with dysfunction and desperation that it would chill your bones and make your dick shrivel into your soul–the very essence of cringe and repression and anger distilled into words, and then emailed and then self-owned! And then such an email–an email I’m going to call The Sickest Email in the Universe–submitted publicly to the court as evidence in the defense of a restraining order, lost among other nonsensical ravings in bold and at the size of 48 points–perhaps to increase their professionalism and legality, and then dismissed as gibberish before they would fall into my hands. Maybe you don’t want to see the letter Maddox wrote to his ex-girlfriend where he name-drops Doug (from Hoobastank), but if you are like me, and you do want to see such a thing, check out Bonus Episode 31 – Dick on The Restraining Order Defense, in which Maddox, in his finite wisdom, includes a demented email he sent to 80s Girl after they broke up demanding to know where she lives to establish their post-breakup “friendship”. Also, a picture of the broken door, and an all-ass cast to read the courtroom transcripts including, Nick Rekieta, Larry Bleidner, Bleh Rodriguez, and Dame Pesos! But first…

I’d like to issue a correction. In our excitement to calculate how many drinks I’ve drank in my life, we incorrectly, but unintentionally, used a figure of 1 ounce to count as a “drink”. Even though the discussion on the show used a more reasonable figure of 2 ounces, we forgot to divide by two when the time came. Still, I think we were in the ball park and remember to pick up a copy of Winners Drink, my card game and drinking game, that WILL ship in time for Christmas. I guarantee it.

If your dad had a blowjob machine, how many pieces of it would you have to replace until it stopped being your dad’s blowjob machine. Surely the penis sleeve you would have to change. Even if it were scrubbed at a microscopic level, chemically etched and bleached of all organic material, it would not be enough. And then of course, any kind of handles or grips. These would no doubt have to be replaced. Clutched in the heights of ecstasy while riding the advertised “Climax Control” button as described in this episode. Those would be too powerfully embedded with “experience” to made the cut. The actual programming as well, of course that will have to be replaced, but with what? A “fresh” installation? Is a copy of my father’s blowjob AI still my father’s blowjob AI? Data recovery is a thing, do bits of my father’s identical blowjob programming linger in the quantum foam? a ghost blowjob in the machine if you will.

Best to just replace the memory entirely. It’s cheap after all.

But what about the power cord? Or does the machine use batteries? And what if your dad used the batteries from the remote because they were the last ones in the house, and then he put them back in the remote? Did everyone give your dad a handjob?

In this episode, we discuss the persistence of a thing–its “thingness”–and identity as a metaphysical concept as it pertains to an artificially intelligent blowjob machine. I call it, Theseus’ Autoblow 2. It’s pretty much the fundamentals of morality here, folks, and it’s why we can’t have nice things. I guess we’ll put theory to the test when the “Autoblow AI” starts shipping God knows when.

Myroom Records with “Asterios Aids”.



And some hot Dick pics!



A thumbnail you’d need 33,000 drinks to stick your dick in by Cliff Campbell.





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