The Legend of the Haunted Poon

In celebration of All Hallow's Eve, I shall present to you a tale so creepy, so eerie, so unspeakably terrifying, it's guaranteed to send chills up and down your sphinctor. And the spookiest part of all: It's loosely based on a true story. I strongly urge those of you with heart conditions to skip this post for your own protection.

Our story begins in the late 20th century in the heart of Texas, where lived a fair maiden named Sassilla Blondowski who was coming of age. Young Sassilla was horny and eager to be deflowered. She searched far and wide for a suitable mate with no success. Then fate stepped in and along came a strapping, well endowed lad named Dwight E. Mickerson. Sassilla was in love. A brief courtship ensued, and on a bright and sunny October day, Sassilla decided to take Dwight E. into her daddy's barn and show him her pumpkins. Dwight E. became instantly engorged, and soon the two of them were rolling around in the hayloft. Twenty seconds later, Mickerson was on the verge of climaxing when in walked Sassilla's father. In a fit of rage, the elder Blondowski grabbed a machette from a nearby hook and sliced off Mickerson's member at the base, leaving the remainder of his ample shaft lodged deep inside Sassilla's nether regions. Sassilla screamed in horror as the mortally wounded Mickerson bled to death before her very eyes.

Now here's where the really frightening part comes in. According to the legend, every month on the anniversary of Mickerson's death, Sassilla gets really cranky and bleeds uncontrollably from her poon for several days. Some say it's just PMS, and perhaps they're right. But maybe, just maybe, it's the ghost of Mickerson returning from the grave to haunt his one true love...forever staining her underpants with the memory of unfulfilled love.

Whatever the case may be, it's wise to avoid Ms. Blondowski and her poon this time of the month.

Brace Yourselves...For Poon!

I've been making fun of the cripples my whole life. I remember once a long time ago , Mother Dyckerson took me to the mall to go shopping. I pointed to an old man in a wheelchair and said, "Look mommy, there's a cripple!"

"That's not polite, Dyckie," my mother said. "See the uniform he's wearing? That man is a veteran. He was a soldier."

"Oh. Sorry," I replied sheepishly.

"That's OK. He obviously wasn't a very good one!" she said. We both laughed hysterically and gave each other a high five.

Those were good times. But who would have thought that nearly two years later, I myself would be severely handicapped?? While it is true that I didn't technically fight in any wars, I do live in Virginia...and if you've been watching any of the nonstop election coverage, you would know that Virginia is a battleground state. And if you've been reading my award-winning Mighty Blog recently, you would know that I literally SHATTERED my right arm* in an HORRENDOUS AUTOMOBILE ACCIDENT while en route to the children's hospital to read to the blind.**

So here I am, on week 4 of wearing this ridiculous brace contraption on my limb. It's bulky, it's cumbersome, and it itches like a sumbitch. But by far the worst thing is the smell - my God, the SMELL!!! I haven't thoroughly cleansed my right arm in over a month. That's nearly TWICE AS LONG as I normally go between arm cleansings. And if you think that's bad, you should take a good whiff of my armpits! Because of my DEBILITATING INJURY, my right arm stays close to my side at all times, allowing LITTLE TO NO VENTILATION to reach my right pit. And because I cannot fully raise and extend my right arm, I have no way to cleanse my left pit. The result: both of my pits smell like ASS!!!

However, being crippled is not without its advantages. Everywhere I go, people offer to help me: "Here, let me get the door for you," or "Here, let me carry that package for you," or "Here, let me stroke your genitals for you." Now many cripples would be offended by these offers of goodwill. They want to be seen as normal, independent adults capable of taking care of themselves. Well FUCK THAT. If people want to do stuff for me, I let 'em!! I haven't had to open a door or make my own coffee at work since the accident!

And then there's the poon!!! Holy shit, this arm brace is a POON MAGNET!! Gorgeous women naturally flock to me anyway...but now that I'm wearing this orthopedic appliance, I practically have to beat 'em off with a stick!! They run up to me in bars all the time and ask, "You poor baby, what happened to you??" Of course, I look them straight in the eye and tell them the truth: I was injured while rescuing a precious kitten from a burning house. Needless to say, I'm getting more tail than Scott Baio.

But this can't last forever, right? WRONG!!! I'm keeping this stinking brace FOREVER!! I'm thinking of getting a leg brace for added effect. They come with Vel-cro straps, so they're a snap to put on. Every Friday night I'll attach the brace, head down to the local watering hole, and work my magic! Maybe I'll even get me one of them uniforms like the vet in the wheelchair I told you about earlier.

Wait a minute...I betcha that old bastard was faking it too!



* OK, I dislocated my elbow and tore a couple of tendons.
** OK, I was cruising for hookers.

On A Wing And A Poon

Ladies and gentlemen, it is with great honor that I introduce you to Dr. Andrew Wing On Poon:




Who is this mysterious Poon, you may ask. I was just getting ready to tell you. Dr. Poon just so happens to be Assistant Professor at the world-renown Hong Kong University of Science and Technology. As you can imagine, this is a well educated Poon. I happened to run across his bio while doing some.....umm.....research for an upcoming blog post. Yeah, that's it. Anyway, it was with great interest that I read the story of this magnificent Poon.

For example, did you know that Poon was an Ivy Leaguer?? Yep, that's right! After completing his undergraduate work at the University of Chicago, this Poon went on to Yale where he earned both a Ph.D. AND an M.Phil. in Physics. Professor Poon's interests include silicon-based micro- and nano-photonic devices for wavelength-division multiplexing (WDM) optical communications, micro-cavity optics, photonic integrated circuits. Wowee, that's one impressive Poon!!!

So how did Andrew Wing On Poon manage to achieve such greatness in a relatively short time?? Undoubtedly he was raised well by his parents. I imagine the entire Poon clan is a very tight group. Being a minority attending college in the U.S., I'm sure Poon took quite a pounding from his peers, but this is one Poon that couldn't be licked. Surely Dr. Poon will someday have some little Poons of his own...and they, too, will grow up to live meaningful, productive (and reproductive) lives.

Can you imagine attending a course taught by Poon?? Day in and day out, those bright young faces must gather their books and hurry to class, eager for the opportunity to share in the presence of the magnificent Poon. I bet they sit and stare at Poon for hours, just waiting to hear what will come out of his lips next.

Those who know the professor regard him as a very sweet, warm Poon, but they warn others to approach Poon with great caution. Indeed, they say there are certain times of the month when this Poon is best left undisturbed. But in general, he is a delightful Poon who should be respected and admired by all.

If you would like to find out more about Professor Andrew Wing On Poon, I urge you to email him today at eeawpoon@ust.hk. I think you'll be very interested to see what he has to say.

Label Access

Last night I was walking home from Bible study* when a lovely young woman walked up to me and said, "Mighty Dyckerson, I'm a huge fan of your blog! I love to read through your archives, but I wish there was a way to sort your posts by topic!"

Then it hit me like a sack of wet pork rinds: Blogger has a "label" feature that allows bloggers like myself to label their blog posts according to subject matter!

I tossed my Bible** in a nearby dumpster and turned to that lovely woman. "Miss, you are absolutely right," I told her. "I will get on that right away! And please, call me Dyckie."

"That's awesome, Dyckie!" she exclaimed. "Say, would you mind autographing my ample breasts?"

"It would be my pleasure," I replied. "Please expose them at this time."

I'll spare you the details of the rest of our steamy encounter, but suffice it to say poon was involved. The point is, The Mighty Blog now has labels! The staff of Dyckerson Enterprises Worldwide has spent countless hours combing through nearly three years of classic Mighty Blog literature, designating each and every post with a category label. You, the reader, may access these writings by simply clicking on the appropriate label in the sidebar!

For example, let's say you want to read about my excrement. Just scroll down the sidebar and click the link entitled Fecal Matters. You'll find out everything you need to know about my bowel movements dating back to June 2005. Or perhaps you'd like to read more about my run for the presidency. Well you're in luck, Pepe! There's a link for that as well!

Of course, trying to summarize my thoughts into a single, solitary category. I often cover a wide spectrum of topics in one post. Take this one, for instance. Clearly this goes under the heading of blogging...but wait a minute, there is also a brief mention of poon. What to do??! Well fortunately, the good people at Blogger have thought of everything. It is possible for ONE POST to have MORE THAN ONE LABEL! THINK OF THE IMPLICATIONS!!!

Now this is still a work in progress, so be sure to check back every day for new category labels! This way, I can keep repackaging the same crap over and over again for years! I'll never have to write another goddamn post again!!! So long, suckers!!!

* OK, it was a strip club.

** OK, it was a bnttle of scotch.

The RETURN of Miracle Ass!!!

First, a quick update on my cracked windshield. Last Thursday, the Safe-Lite Glass Co. sent a flunkie to my office to restore DyckMobile I to its former glory. It is now crack-free and as good as new. And for those of you keeping score, I was ass raped for a whopping $212.00 cash. I hope it was good for them, 'cause it sure as hell wasn't good for me.

Now I'd like to shift gears and talk about a crack of a different color. I'm talking, of course, about the one and only MIRACLE ASS!!!* Sightings of this magnificent specimen have been rather rare of late. But last week I managed to capture what may be the MOST VIVID PHOTO YET of this most bodacious of booties. And now, without further ado, it's time to unveil the newest Miracle Ass photo! BEHOLD!!



Oops, that's the wrong ass. How'd that get in there?? Ah, here it is! The one.....the only.....MIRACLE ASS!!!




Not only is this the clearest, brightest picture to date...but if you closely at the lower right quadrant of the picture, you'll see none other than BARE SKIN!! Yes, much of the ass is obscured by the seat of the chair and the white garment draped on its backside, but the part of the ass that is visible is also practically NAKED!!! Now ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I ask you: Is that an ass or is that an ASS??! WOWEEEEEE!!!

And do NOT even get me started on that outfit! Note the tight low-rise jeans...the equally tight pink t-shirt-like item hugging (most) of her upper torso...and the unbuttoned sweater object providing virtually NO coverage whatsoever!!! Put it all together, and you've got a woman who is clearly ready for SERIOUS POON ACTIVITY! And Dyckerson is just the man to give her some!!

Of course, I cannot rush into this. I must proceed with utmost caution, for any wrong moves could destroy my chances of acquiring the Miracle Ass. Once again, I must call upon my faithful readers for guidance. What is my best strategy for obtaining the elusive M.A.?? Speak now!! Time is of the essence!!!


* You may read more about MIRACLE ASS here and here.

At Your Cervix!

I don't normally do this, but I have gone and made myself a New Year's resolution. In 2008, I resolve to transform The Mighty Blog from a site filled with profanity and penis jokes into a center for education, enlightenment, and vagina jokes. That's why I was elated to learn that January is both National Mentoring Month AND National Cervical Health Awareness Month.

Now some of you may argue that I am already a mentor. While it is true that I routinely use The Mighty Blog as a tool to communicate my teachings to the civilized world, I feel this just isn't enough. So in observance of National Mentoring Month (NMM), I would like to volunteer my time to mentor one of you, my loyal readers. Perhaps you are at a crossroads in your life, and you need a little direction. Or maybe you're looking for a life coach to help you achieve your goals. Whatever the case may be, Mighty Dyckerson is here to help. So I urge each of you to write a short essay (50 words or less) explaining why I should choose you as my mentee. Please do so now. I will announce the winner in an upcoming post.

Speaking of mentoring, I would like to take this opportunity to mentor each of you on the importance of cervical health awareness. I'm willing to bet many of you don't even know what a cervix is. Per Wikipedia, the world's foremost authority on female reproduction, the cervix is the lower, narrow portion of the uterus where it joins with the top end of the vagina. In other words, it's where the poon meets the womb.

The cervix is a magical place. During menstruation, it stretches open slightly to allow the endometrium to be shed. Nobody really knows what the endometrium is, but most experts agree that it is important that it be shed at least once per month. This process often causes cramping in members of the female sex, which in turn causes members of the male sex to clean out their garages.

During orgasm, the cervix convulses in order to suck jizz from the poon to the womb and increase the likelihood of pregnancy. To help explain this concept, picture a vacuum cleaner:


Study this diagram and imagine you are having heterosexual intercourse. Upon ejaculation, the floor (or penis) releases dust (or semen), which in turn gets collected by the intake port (or vagina). From there, the dust (or semen) gets drawn upward by the motor and fan (or cervix) and into the dust bag (or uterus). This is where life begins. Now I'm not exactly sure what the exhaust port is for. Maybe one of you ladies can clue me in.

So now that we know what the cervix is, why is cervical health important?? Simple. Nearly 7 out of every 10 women will die of cervical cancer this year alone.* That's why it is critical for women to get their paps smeared at least once a week. During this procedure, a doctor pries open the twat using a crowbar and jams a poon spoon inside to collect a sample of pap. A doctor then smears the pap on his tongue to see if it tastes bitter or acrid. If it does, bitch got cancer.

Of course even with insurance, weekly exams can be quite costly. But because I believe so strongly in the importance of weekly pap smearing, I routinely volunteer my pap smearing services to members of the fairer sex. Although I am not a licensed physician, I perform almost the exact same procedure as you would get in a doctor's office. Only instead of collecting a sample with a poon spoon, I use my penis. So if you are an attractive female between the ages of 18 and 25 (or a sassy blonde of any age), please contact me today for a free consultation. You'll be glad you did. I sure as hell know I will.


* Just a wild guess.

Fuck Candlelight Vigils

I have a few things to say about this Sean Taylor business. You know, the Redskins football player who got his ass capped by a supposed "burglar." Look, I'm sorry the dude died. That's gotta be a real bummer. I'm sure his family is really choked up about it, as they should be.

OK, now that we have the politically correct shit out of the way, tell me this. Why the fuck am I supposed to give a rat's ass about some JOCK STRAP FILLER who spent his free time HANGING OUT IN GANGS?? Take a look at this picture:


This guy was no saint. Grandpa Dyckerson had a saying for folks like him: "You sleep with dogs, you're gonna get fleas!" Grandpa Dyckerson also had another saying: "Fuck you, you fucking farting robots! Suck my dead pig!" Yeah, Grandpa Dyckerson wasn't right in the head. But that's another story.

My point is, I don't understand why everybody is bawling over Sean Taylor's death like he was the Pontiff. He didn't cure cancer. He didn't discover Uranus. Hell, he didn't even invent a longer lasting light bulb. All he did was get paid a RIDICULOUS AMOUNT OF MONEY to run around a FUCKING FIELD chasing after an ODDLY SHAPED BALL. I get that he and his team had fans. What I DON'T get is how anybody with even ONE OUNCE OF SANITY can fill up their SUVs with gasoline at three bucks a gallon, drop another fifty on flowers and shit, and drive all the way to fucking ASHBURN to hold a fucking CANDLELIGHT VIGIL for this numbnut. Don't these idiots have anything BETTER TO DO with their time and money??!

Now before you accuse me of being an insensitive prick, keep this in mind: PEOPLE DIE EVERY DAY. Good, decent, hard-working people like you and me. Well, me at least. I'm talking about DOCTORS and NURSES and TEACHERS and PORN STARS and LEGGY SUPERMODELS and POP SINGERS and MONKEY CLOWN BLOGGERS. These are people who deserve our RESPECT and ADMIRATION. You don't see anybody erecting statues for us when we croak!

So stop fawning and drooling all over these JACKASS JOCKS like they're gods and show some appreciation for our REAL HEROES...