A Few Observations

Just because I haven't been blogging lately, doesn't mean I don't have shit to talk about. The wheels in Dyckerson's brain never stop turning, so I have amassed quite a backlog of miscellaneous thoughts and observations. Here are but a few:

- 1 -

There are no skinny Bridgets. Seriously, have you ever met a Bridget who wasn't a chunky monkey? I've known three or four in my lifetime, and they have all been fat fucks. Now I know what you're thinking. Hey Dyck, what about actress Bridget Bardot? OK, maybe when she was in her prime. But check this shit out:

That photo is pretty unbelievable, isn't it? I had my doubts too, but I found it on the Internets, so it must be real. No Bridget can escape the fat curse.

- 2 -

I frighten people. A few weeks ago, I was in need of some croutons and Lemon Pledge, so I went to the local grocer to do some shopping. I parked the Dyckmobile II in a handicapped spot* and proceeded to make my way across the parking lot and into the store. As I approached the door, out walked a mother carrying a couple of bags. At her side was a young child who looked to be around 4 or 5 years old. She glanced up at me, and without missing a beat, she grabbed the kid's arm and yanked him toward her. An overprotective parent, perhaps? I think not...because just last week the EXACT SAME THING happened again. Same setting, different woman and kid. And it ain't just the broads. The other day I was walking in the county park, minding my own business and enjoying nature's beauty. I was approaching this kid who was standing on the edge of the sidewalk and taunting a goose. Dad was standing about 10 feet away admiring the result of his sperm. He must have seen me coming, because I distinctly heard him say,"Come here, Corey! Come here!"

Now I assure you, I look and dress relatively normal. I have no unsightly growths on my person, nor am I disfigured in any way. Yet something about me makes people want to grab their children. What the fuck??! When I was a kid, my parents let me drink household cleaners and play in construction sites. Hell, once when I was six, I got a hold of my dad's keys and drove his Gremlin straight into the ditch. He thought it was hysterical. So what's the deal with all these uptight parents? I blame the media.

- 3 -

I'm a musical genius. Pick any love song that contains the word "heart" in the title. Now replace the word "heart" with the word "fart" and get ready for endless hilarity!!!

Unbreak My Fart - Toni Braxton
Achy Breaky Fart - Billy Ray Cyrus
The Fart Of The Matter - Don Henley
Fart To Fart - Chris Brown
My Fart Will Go On - Celine Dion
Fart Attack - NLT
Put A Little Love In Your Fart - Dolly Parton
Fart Full Of Soul - Chris Isaak
The Last Unbroken Fart - Patti Labelle
Broken Fart - Motion City Soundtrack
Sin In My Fart - Siouxsee And The Banshees
Pop! Goes My Fart - Hugh Grant
Fart Of Glass - Blondie
Fragile Fart - Westlife
Cold Hard Fart - Bon Jovi
You'll Be In My Fart - Usher
Here Is My Fart - Lionel Richie
Taking Back My Fart - Cher
Love's Got A Hold On My Fart - Steps
Where Is Your Fart - Kelly Clarkson
Listen To Your Fart - Roxette
One Determined Fart - Paulini
Hungry Fart - Bruce Springsteen
Straight From The Fart - Bryan Adams
Piece Of My Fart - Janice Joplin
Listen To Her Fart - Tom Petty & The Fartbreakers
My Fart Has A Mind Of Its Own - Connie Francis
Fartache Tonight - The Eagles
What Do I Do With My Fart? - The Eagles
Owner Of A Lonely Fart - Oasis
Sheer Fart Attack - Queen
Thunder In My Fart - Leo Sayer

Make up your own! Play along at your office Christmas party!!

- 4 -

Alan Alda has lost his fucking mind. I was recently on iTunes looking for a podcast that I could listen to while I walk in the park and frighten people. I've almost been a big fan of M*A*S*H, so I was intrigued by an audio podcast featuring the actor speaking to a group at a book signing. Great, I thought. He'll probably tell stories about all the wacky behind-the-scenes hijinks that took place on the M*A*S*H set! Well I thought wrong. Apparently Hawkeye had a near-death experience a few years ago and consequently gave up acting in favor of philosophy. So I listened for 45 minutes while he rambled on and on about what "now" is. "What is now?" asked Hawkeye. "Now only lasts for a few seconds. Then it's gone, and that now is in the past. Then there's a new now." I'm paraphrasing, but you get the idea. And he said this with all the passion and enthusiasm he could muster.

At last, he opened up the floor to questions. Finally, I thought. Now we'll get some good M*A*S*H questions. No such luck. The first question: "How has your near-death experience affected your perception of 'now'?" Similar questions followed, and Alda ate them up like a bag of pork rinds. Eventually someone had the balls to ask a question about M*A*S*H, but by this time I was so groggy, I didn't even hear it. However, I can tell you that Hawkeye likes to refer to the series not as M*A*S*H, but as "The M*A*S*H Show."

Too bad that near-death experience wasn't a DEATH EXPERIENCE. Am I right peopld??!!


That's all I got for now. On the next Mighty Blog: My experience as a mall Santa!

* My busted arm is 98% healed, and I don't have a handicapped decal, but I'm not taking any chances.

Lord, Why Couldn't It Have Been Carrot Top??!

I first met George Carlin in the early 70s. He was headlining at the Belch 'N Giggle in Trenton, and I was the opening act. I was backstage rehearsing my act when George came up to me in a panic.

"Dyckerson, you gotta help me," he pleaded as he took a hit on his bong.

"Wassup, dude?" I asked.

"I've got no material, and I'm on in five minutes," he said. "Can you lend me a few of your jokes?"

I was about to tell him to get lost, when all the sudden a stage light came crashing down and landed on my big toe.

"SHIT PISS FUCK CUNT COCKSUCKER MOTHERFUCKER!" I screamed.

Just that second, a well endowed waitress walked by. I turned and shouted, "TITS!!!!"

George's face lit up like a Kwanzaa bush. "That's perfect! Thanks!!"

The rest, as they say, is history. George went on to do quite well for himself, yet he never gave me any credit. But I'm not bitter. You see, a few years ago, we ran into each other at an orgy at Tim Russert's place. George pulled me aside and gave me a piece of advice that would change my life forever.

"Dyck," he said. "You need to give up the stand-up comedy. The real future is in blogging."

"Blogging?" I asked skeptically.

"You heard me, clown. Blogging."

"But if blogs are so great, how come you don't have one?" I asked.

George took a swig of his boilermaker and answered simply, "Can't type."

So here I am, the host and star of The Mighty Blog with Mighty Dyckerson. And now that Carlin's cranky old ass is gone, I'm a shoe-in for next year's Shania Twain Comedy Award. Take that, gramps!!!

R.I.P., old buddy.

Heeerrreee's Foreclosure!!!

I think we all know the economy is in the shitter, but what does it say about the state of the world when our top celebrities are going homeless?? I'm talking, of course, about that beloved old bag of gas known as Ed McMahon. Yep, apparently the old bastard is so far behind on his mortgage payments that his Beverly Hills mansion is on the brink of foreclosure.

So how did the folks at Countrywide break the news to him, you ask? Well, it seems they sent old Clydesdale breath a brown envelope with his picture on the front. The envelope contained a letter stating that he MAY HAVE ALREADY LOST his five million dollar house! Sounds like that second banana's gonna have to SPLIT! Ain't that a SIDE KICK in the pants?? HEY-OOH!!!! I guess Ed will be living out his remaining days camped out on FUNK & WAGNALL'S PORCH!! Hey Ed, do you think I give a damn?? If you answered no, then YOU ARE CORRECT SIR! HO HO HO HO!!!

But seriously folks, how does a thing like this happen? Didn't the drunk old fool save any of the money he earned by SITTING ON A COUCH for 25 years??

Ed's defense: He hasn't been able to work the last two years because he broke his neck. Excuse me??! YOU'RE 85 FUCKING YEARS OLD!! Did you not think that you would someday be too old and feeble to work?? Or did you just plan on DROPPING DEAD on the set of Star Search??*

Perhaps I'm being a bit too harsh. Perhaps being a top celebrity is harder than it looks. Perhaps Ed's misfortune is really a thinly veiled cry for help.

That's why I am pleased to announce Mighty Dyckerson's Save the Stars Foundation. So long, Salvation Army! Fuck off, Unicef!! Save the Stars is the hot new charity that's sweeping the nation!!

Here's how it works: You send me a big fat check, and I'll send you a picture of a washed up celebrity for you to sponsor. For just pennies a day, your star will be fed, clothed, and sheltered in a high quality drug rehab facility. You will receive monthly progress reports as well as personalized letters from your star's agent. In time, your star will gradually re-enter show biz by doing commercials for boner pills and making guest appearances on third-rate reality shows. You will be overwhelmed with pride. And I will be overwhelmed by your big fat check. So please make a generous donation...and hurry the fuck up. My own mortgage payment is due next week.



* Yes, I know Star Search was canceled like 20 years ago. It's called comedic license, jackass.

Ode to Sassy Blondie

And now, without further ado, the world premiere of my latest literary masterpiece...Ode to Sassy Blondie!!!

I once met a blogger
She was blonde and quite sassy
Her boobs were real perky
And she had a nice assy

She likes to wear pants
That are made out of flannel
We make out on the Internets
While I watch the porn channel

We chit and we chat
And I try to seduce her
But my sexual advances
Only serve to amuse her

This chick whom I know
Who is blonde and quite sassy
Has a heart that's as big
As all of Tallahassee

She hangs out in bookstores
With rude, horny gays
Their groping disgusts her
But she watches anyways

She goes to wild parties
To drink and to dance
She sends out text messages
Yet her phone's in her pants

Catholic is this chick
Who is blonde and quite sassy
She flirts with her priest
During midnight massy

The boys in her school
Graze against her heaving chest
They play with their wankers
And imagine her undressed

She was once almost killed
By a drunk in a Fury
Would've shot his dumb ass
If she hadn't been in a hurry

Did I mention that this chick
Who is blonde and quite sassy
Is a hell of a baker
And as sweet as molassy?

She made me a batch
Of chocolate chip cookies
I ate them all up
And I gave her some nookie

We're thinking of moving
To the city of Denver
But it's already too cold
And it's only December

Another thing about this chick
Who is blonde and quite sassy
She was stalked by a psycho -
Charged him with sexual harassy

We'll have a quick wedding
And a long honeymoon
She'll service my wang
And I'll lick her sweet poon

We'll marry and settle
And have dozens of kids
They'll wear out her hoo-ha
And they'll all die of SIDS

I'm in love with a blogger
Who is blonde and quite sassy
She beat me at dominoes
But her act is real classy

They're Back!!!

I'm talking, of course, about the best freakin' band the world has ever known - The Eagles, baby! That's Glenn Frey, Joe Walsh, Timothy B. Schmit, and the incomparable DON HENLEY! Last week they released their first studio album in 28 years! It's called LONG ROAD OUT OF EDEN, and it's available exclusively at your local Wal-Mart and/or Sam's Club store. If you have not already purchased this fine piece of musical brilliance, then WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU??! This two-disc album contains 20 songs and sells at a price point of $11.88 - that's less than 60 CENTS PER SONG! A full 39 CENTS CHEAPER than iTunes! Plus, it includes a handy CARDBOARD SLEEVE to store your CD's *AND* a booklet containing LYRICS, ALBUM CREDITS, and pictures of ELDERLY MEN and SAND. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR??!



Perhaps you're wondering if the boys still have the touch after all these years. Well allow me to allay your fears by dissecting LONG ROAD OUT OF EDEN track by track!

No More Walks in the Wood - The album starts off with this haunting tune sung acapulco by all four members of the band. It's Seven Bridges Road, only about trees instead of bridges!

How Long - This J.D. Souther cover sounds like a cross between Take It Easy and Already Gone. The Eagles used to play this in concerts in the early 70s...now it's back for all to enjoy! Check out the music video on YouTube!

Busy Being Fabulous - Instant classic! With lead vocals by Mr. Henley, this catchy tune has a bit of a Lyin' Eyes sentiment in the lyrics.

What Do I Do With My Heart - I've only listened to this one a couple of times. I don't remember, but I think it's about organ donation. Sung by Glenn Frey.

Guilty Of The Crime - Originally by the Bellamy Brothers, whom I've never heard of. They should be thanking Joe Walsh for breathing new life into their otherwise shitty music.

I Don't Want To Hear Anymore - One of Timothy Schmit's two contributions on the album, this tune has a soulful, I Can't Tell You Why feel to it.

Waiting In The Weeds - "I've been biding time with the crows and sparrows/While peacocks prance and strut up on the stage." First-ever peacock reference in an Eagles song! Chicks are sure to dig this sensitive shit.

No More Cloudy Days - Previously released on the Live From Melbourne DVD. A good song, but it sounds like a reject from one of Glenn Frey's forgettable solo albums.

Fast Company - Mr. Henley showcases his incredible vocal range by singing this entire song falsetto. God bless him!

Do Something - A lovely tune sung by Timothy Schmit with a bridge by Mr. Henley. Another sensitive song that's sure to have the bitches nice and moist!

Long Road Out Of Eden - Disc 2 starts out with this Don Henley opus. Clocks in at over ten minutes, but feels like only five. THAT'S HOW FUCKING GOOD IT IS! "Went down the road to Damascus, the road to Mandalay/Met the ghost of Caesar on the Appian Way." Holy shit, I don't know what the hell he's talking about, but it sounds damn impressive! Excellent guitar work by Joseph Walsh. The $11.88 is worth it for this song alone!

I Dreamed There Was No War - An instrumental piece of crap by Glenn Frey. You have my permission to skip this track.

Somebody - Finally Glenn redeems himself! This spooky rocker has a Witchy Woman-ish sound.

Frail Grasp On The Big Picture - "All your romantic liasons/Don't deal with eternal questions like/Who left the cap off the freaking toothpaste?/Whose turn to take the garbage out?" Who says Don Henley doesn't have a sense of humor??!

Last Good Time In Town - Classic Walsh! 'Nuff said!

I Love To Watch A Woman Dance - Mr. Henley said in an interview that he felt there were a few tracks that shouldn't have been on the album. Undoubtedly this piece of shit sung by Glenn Frey is one of them.

Business As Usual - "Monuments to arrogance reach for the sky/Our better nature's buried in the rubble/We got the prettiest White House that money can buy/Sitting up there in that beltway bubble." Don's pissed, and he ain't gonna take it anymore! Dirty Laundry, only BETTER!

Center Of The Universe - Another haunting tune with some beautiful harmonies. Hell, now I'M getting moist!!

It's Your World Now - Disc 2 concludes with this Mexican sounding tune reminiscent of Tequila Sunrise. A fitting ending to what will probably be the band's last album.


Now RUN - don't drive - to your nearest Wal-Mart and BUY THIS FUCKING ALBUM! And tell 'em Dyckie sentcha!!!!!!

Interpretive Poetry

Tonight's selection is entitled "Simple Simon." Please follow along with me.


Simple Simon met a pieman
Going to the fair;
Says Simple Simon to the pieman,
"Let me taste your ware."

- A pieman is a man who sells pie. However, when I read this, I interpret "pie" as poon. Thus, the pieman is actually a pimp...and Simon is a john looking for oral sex.

Says the pieman to Simple Simon,
"Show me first your penny."
Says Simple Simon to the pieman,
"Indeed I have not any."

- The pimp wants cash up front, but Simon is flat-ass broke.

He went to catch a dickey bird,
And thought he could not fail,
Because he'd got a little salt,
To put upon his tail.

- Simon changed his mind. Now he wants to have anal sex with a transgender prostitute ("dickey bird").

He went to take a bird's nest,
Was built upon a bough;
The branch gave way and Simon fell
Into a dirty slough.

- In this passage, the "branch" is the transgender prostitute's penis, the "bird's nest" is his pubic hair, and the "bough" is his crotch. "The branch gave way" means the she-male couldn't get it up.

He went to shoot a wild duck,
But wild duck flew away;
Say Simon, I can't hit him,
Because he will not stay."

- Simon tried to steal a rubber dildo from a sex toy shop, but he was caught on tape by security cameras.

Simple Simon went a-fishing,
For to catch a whale;
All the water he had got
Was in his mother's pail.

- Simon committed incest with his overweight mother.

Simple Simon went a-hunting,
For to catch a hare;
He rode an ass about the streets,
But couldn't find one there.

- This part is self-explanatory.

He went for to eat honey,
Out of the mustard pot;
He bit his tongue until he cried,
That was all the good he got.

- Unsatisfied with the butt sex, Simon decided to acquire some poon. The expression "bit his tongue" is a euphemism for premature ejaculation.

He went to ride a spotted cow
That had a little calf;
She threw him down upon the ground,
Which made the people laugh.

- Simon had rough sex with a bovine in front of a bunch of Mexican farm hands.

Once Simon made a great snowball,
And brought it in to roast;
He laid it down before the fire,
And soon the ball was lost.

- Simon was castrated.

He went to slide upon the ice
Before the ice would bear;
Then he plunged in above his knees,
Which made poor Simon stare.

- Simon tried to make it with a frigid bitch, but she wouldn't put out.

He washed himself with blacking ball,
Because he had no soap;
Then said unto his mother,
"I'm a beauty now, I hope."

- Simon got a facial from a black dude and came out of the closet.

Simple Simon went to look
If plums grew on a thistle;
He pricked his fingers very much,
Which made poor Simon whistle.

- Simon pleasured himself while laying under a plum tree.

He went for water in a sieve,
But soon it all ran through.
And now poor Simple Simon
Bids you all adieu.

- Simon broke his last condom, so he went to rob a 7-Eleven. Peace out, homeys.

Merv Griffin's Final Jeopardy!

I was never a big fan of Merv. There, I said it. I know it's generally considered in bad taste to say something mean about someone right after they've croaked - even if they were a complete SHIT BISCUIT - but Dyckerson has never been known to follow the rules of good taste. For example, see May 2006 post entitled Screw the Handicrapped.

But let's get back to why I hate Merv Griffin. He always struck me as a BLOATED, NO-TALENT BAG OF GAS. In all the footage I have ever seen of him, he was always wearing something silk, with a martini in one hand and a butt in the other. Basically a fat Hugh Hefner, without all the whores. I don't think the man ever worked an honest day in his life. He certainly never broke a sweat. Although I have to hand it to him. He was incredibly average, yet he somehow managed to parlay that into millions of dollars. That is my dream, and I shall achieve it someday if I ever get my invention patented. It's a combination toilet and crepe maker - I call it "The Creper."

There I go getting sidetracked again. Back to Merv. Remember the talk show he used to have? Neither do I. It was syndicated, but I don't think it ever aired in my market. In fact, I don't know ANYBODY who lives in a city that carried the Merv Griffin Show. Sometimes I wonder if the fucking show actually aired at all. Maybe Merv just interviewed celebrities in his house, like that episode of "Seinfeld" where Kramer buys the old Merv Griffin set and starts calling everybody niggers. I can't imagine the torture it must have been to be interviewed by that SCHMOOZING OLD WINDBAG. I've had conversations with BAGS OF RICE that were more interesting.

Then there was Merv the game show creator. In case you didn't know, Merv was the genius behind "Wheel of Fortune" and "Jeopardy," two of the most UNORIGINAL half-hours of television ever conceived. "Wheel of Fortune" is fucking HANGMAN, people! And "Jeopardy" is only the FIVE THOUSANDTH game show to ever use the Q-&-A format. The whole "answer in the form of a question" thing was just a GODDAMN GIMMICK to set it apart from the rest. And that part wasn't even Merv's idea! IT WAS HIS WIFE'S!! Yet somehow Merv Griffin is lauded as a game show pioneer.

While Merv wasn't stealing game show ideas, he liked to play piano. Good for him. As much FREE TIME as that bastard had for the last 25 years, he should have been a virtuoso at EVERY MUSICAL INSTRUMENT EVER INVENTED. Did you know old Merv wrote the "Jeopardy" theme? What a masterpiece. Three notes repeated over and over and over again. In spite of his enormous wealth, the old skinflint couldn't shell out a few bucks for a professional songwriter. I was watching a clip today where he said he wrote the "Jeopardy" theme in 15 minutes. He says this with great pride, mind you. Not only could I write that piece of shit in 15 minutes, but I'd still have 14.5 minutes left to look at pictures of Ms. Babble's illegitimate children. Yet again, somehow Merv Griffin is considered to be a musical genius.

Then there was Merv the singer. It's the same deal with his lameass talk show. Can you name a single Merv Griffin album??! OF COURSE YOU CAN'T!!! His only hit was the horrendous novelty song, "I've Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts"...and HE DIDN'T EVEN WRITE IT!!! If an artist recorded a piece of shit like that today, they'd be laughed out of the music industry - and rightfully so.

Finally, there was Merv the real estate typhoon. Apparently he owned a bunch of hotels and shit...because you know, that's what rich people do. They buy property. It's an easy investment, and requires virtually no knowledge or talent. You pay agents to conduct the transaction, and you hire goons to manage the property. Then you wait for the checks to come in. Obviously not something working stiffs like us can do, but for someone who wipes his ass with portraits of Ben Franklin, it's all in a day's work.

In spite of all that, I'm sorry the old guy croaked. In honor of Merv, I'm going over to Jenny's house and having her examine my prostate. Time to break out the rubber glove, baby!! Daddy's coming home!!!