Special Delivery

Everybody knows the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. But nobody knows this more than my good friend Sassy Blondie. Actually, she's more than just a good friend. If I have anything to do with it, she'll be the future Mrs. Dyckerson!

Yesterday I came home to find a very special package waiting for me on my doorstep. So special, in fact, that it even outranks the ONKYO TX-SR505S I received back in September. Take a look...


With great anticipation, I carefully lifted the box, made sure it wasn't ticking, and carried it into the kitchen. After placing the package on my filthy counter, I broke open the official post office seal using the same pair of scissors I had used to trim my pubes just one night before. Upon opening the box, I was greeted by a generous supply of everybody's favorite packing material, bubble wrap...


My first instinct was to pop every single one of those bubbly little fuckers, but I had bigger fish to fry. And after frying my fish, I returned to my mystery package, yanked out the bubble wrap, and unveiled my reward...


Yes, not even high-end electronics can beat a batch of DELICIOUS HOMEMADE CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES loving baked to perfection by a SASSY BLONDE! Am I right guys??! Not only that, but check out the wrapping...


FOUR DOZEN COOKIES...each dozen sealed in its own plastic baggy by a colorful festive ribbon!! I hope the people at Chips Ahoy are reading this, because THIS is how you make chocolate chip cookies!! Not only did Ms. Blondie bake these delectable morsels JUST FOR ME, but look at this...


This woman spent nearly TEN FUCKING DOLLARS on postage alone!! I spent less than that on my first blowjob! If that isn't love, I don't know what is. The package also contained a card, which is all good and well, but I wanted those fucking cookies!!


So moist...so chewy...so packed with sassy goodness! Each mouth watering cookie personally licked by Ms. Blondie for extra sweetness! I couldn't eat just one! In fact, I couldn't eat just one dozen! That's right, I ate ALL 48 COOKIES in one sitting and washed it down with a bottle of ice cold Corona Light! As I spent the remainder of the evening puking my guts out, I kept thinking to myself, I'm going to marry that woman.


Of course, one good turn deserves another. That's why I'm going to make my sweet Sassy Blondie a pot of Grandpa Dyckerson's famous PORK RIND STEW! No need to thank me, darling. You're worth it. And not only that, but I am currently putting the finishing touches on my latest opus - a little something I like to call Ode to Sassy Blondie. The literary community is already buzzing about this poetic masterpiece, and in a couple of days, you'll be able to read it for yourself...right here, on The Mighty Blog! Stay tuned!!!

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...

More Shit

My dear friends, today I'd like to talk to you about Medialine. Medialine is a web site that can be found on the Internets via the World Wide Web. It's a job posting site for people who are unfortunate enough to work in the TV industry. Hopefully none of you fall into that category, but the folks at Medialine do have a new and improved message board called Open Line Forum. This was the birthplace of Mighty Dyckerson.

With over 6,000 witty and insightful posts spanning over five years, I am somewhat of an icon there. And now, YOU, my loyal Mighty Blog readers, can join the fun!! All you have to do is click this link to Open Line Forum and register today! When you do, you'll be joining an exciting online community filled with lively discussion, hilarious comedy, and much much more! Plus I'll be gaining valuable referral points I can redeem for fabulous prizes!

I know what you're thinking: "But Dyckerson, I don't work in the media!" Well no problemo, senor! Medialine's Open Line Forum has a general discussion board designed especially for you! You can talk about anything from politics and current events to flatulence and body odor! And that's just ONE THREAD! So what are you waiting for?? Sign up today!!!!!

********************

While we're on the subject of the media, I thought I'd share with you a story from my days working behind the scenes in local TV. One of my earlier jobs was working in master control at a small independent station. Part of this job required me to make dubs of commercials to air during the station's programming. Pretty dull shit. Anyway, one day I had to dub off a copy of a hearing aid commercial. As a little experiment, I thought it would be interesting to dub the on-air copy without audio. That way, everybody would be running to their phones to order hearing aids!! So I dubbed the spot and stuck the tape on the shelf. It aired dozens of times for several months.....but nobody noticed.

True story.

Stuff THIS!

Every year around Thanksgiving, bloggers around the world take time to write lameass posts listing all the shit they're thankful for. Some try to be profound; others try to be clever and witty. Well here's a news flash for you: NOBODY GIVES A FUCK. I don't think any of you turkey pluckers understand the true meaning of this holiday. Well lucky for you, Dyckerson is here. So sit back, grab your giblets, and prepare to be schooled.....


The first official Thanksgiving occurred in 1619 when a ship full of drunken homersexuals returning from a gay cruise crash landed somewhere upon the shores of Massachusetts. Just then, a group of Indian tech support guys drove by in a beat-up Plymouth Voyager and threw rocks at them. But the queers shielded themselves with their brightly colored turtleneck sweaters, causing the rocks to bounce back and hit the Indians, leaving red marks on their foreheads. Fortunately for the Indians, their telephone headsets prevented them from sustaining any major injuries. The fight was declared a draw, the buttonheads declared peace with the flamers, and the group decided to celebrate by gorging themselves with a shitload of grub.



They all agreed to meet at Mujibar Gupta's wigwam since he had a big screen TV. Everybody had to bring one covered dish. Sir Harry "Butterball" Cox cooked a turkey. Woody "Sweet Potato" Johnson baked a pie. Khadar Patel brought some disgusting curry dish that everybody hated. And Captain Richard Swanson brought some of his frozen TV dinners...but then they remembered the microwave oven hadn't been invented yet, so they ditched them at a homeless shelter.




Things got a little crazy during the feast. Harry dipped his "drumstick" in a vat of gravy and Woody licked it clean in front of everybody. The Indians just ignored it and continued to provide their callers with excellent customer service. But then Habib spilled cranberry sauce on one of Srujana's scripts, causing him to lose his place. Srujana then slammed down his phone and began pelting Habib with scalding hot biscuits, insulting his mother in a foreign language.

Following dinner, the macacas retired to the living room, smoked some tobacco, and watched a televised broadcast of men throwing large spherical objects at one another. Meanwhile, the homersexuals stayed in the kitchen and browsed at the sale ads in the newspaper.




The next morning, the whole gang played hooky from work and headed to the marketplace to take advantage of their doorbuster deals. Sadly, Butterball was trampled to death by a pack of crazed colonists desperate to purchase iPhonographs for their snotty little kids. After filling up the Plymouth with all sorts of cheap American crap, the swamis and the queers parted company and went their separate ways.




And so ends the story of the first Thanksgiving. Now pass the stuffing, dipshit.

Virginia is for Bloggers

And now, a message from Mighty Dyckerson, ambassador and unofficial spokesdyck for the Commonwealth of Virginia Board of Tourism...

Virginia is a state rich in history and natural beauty. Founded in 1776 by Virginius W. Cornholio, it is home to over 10,000 people and nearly 400 species of wildlife*. The economy is thriving**, the crime rate is low***, and the job market is strong****. Bottom line, Virginia is a terrific place to live...especially if you're a certain sassy blonde who is thinking about relocating and raising a family.

There is plenty to see and do in our fair state. You'll find endless beauty from the white sands of Virginia Beach.....








.....to the majestic peaks of the Blue Ridge Mountains.







Virginia is also home to historic Jamestown where you can buy postcards with pictures of gay homosexuals and clever captions that say "Visit Jamestown."






Another interesting fact about Virginia: TV's Andy Griffith once took a dump at a rest stop in Manassas while on his way home to North Carolina!






Let's say you're getting on in years and are nearing retirement age. Virginia's assisted living facilities are among the best in the nation!***** And you can die here knowing your body will be buried in some of the most fertile soil on the entire eastern seaboard!******

So what are you waiting for? Come one, come all to Virginia!!!



* These are rough estimates. Emphasis on ROUGH.
** Especially if you're in the illegal narcotics business.
*** If you don't count murders, thefts, and assaults.
**** McDonald's is always hiring.
***** OK, I completely made that one up.
****** Granted that's not saying much.

Trails And Tribulations

I have new respect for the DyckMobile. Last weekend I took her to the mountains with a group of 4-wheeling rednecks for an off road adventure. I thought it would be a good opportunity to connect with nature and possibly score some hillbilly poon. You see, I had offered my empty seats to two female non-Jeep owners whom I had yet to meet. I was hoping at least one of them would look like Daisy Duke - you know, before she got old and fat. Boy was I wrong.

We met at an Exxon station near the trail head. Chick #1 was this short, squatty, rather talkative creature. I don't want to say this woman was ugly, but I've seen better looking bitches in Michael Vick's back yard. Chick #2 was a middle aged broad - divorced, grown kids, etc. I could practically hear her hoo-ha drying up from ten feet away. Yeah, this was going to be a fun day.

First thing you have to do before doing any serious off roading is air down your tires to improve traction. This rather complicated process involves jamming a key into your valve stems to allow air to escape. My passengers offered to assist, but seeing as they didn't know what the fuck a valve stem was, I opted to do it myself. I wasn't about to put the DyckMobile in the hands of two clueless cackling hens.

As I finished deflating the last tire, Chick #1 piped up: "PUT THE TOP DOWN! PUT THE TOP DOWN!" she screamed.

"Are you sure about that?" I asked her. "It's going to be pretty chilly once we get moving."

Her response: "PUT THE TOP DOWN! PUT THE TOP DOWN! WOO HOO!"

Chick #2 didn't give a damn one way or another, so reluctantly I removed the vinyl windows and lowered the canvas top. Then I brushed myself off, hopped back in the Heep, and started on our way.

At first, it was just dirt and gravel. If I had to compare the size of these rocks to one of my co-bloggers, I'd say they were about the size of Ms. Babble's ta-tas. So small, you really couldn't feel anything. I tried to take in the fresh air and enjoy the scenery, but Chick #1 wasn't having it.

"I'M COLD! PUT THE TOP UP!" she whined. I knew this was coming.

I muttered a string a four-letter words as I struggled to reassemble the top half of the DyckMobile. Meanwhile, the post-menopausal chick whipped out her digital camera and began snapping photos of anything and everything. You'd think this broad had never seen a squirrel before.

"MY CAMERA'S NOT WORKING! MY CAMERA'S NOT WORKING!" she whined. I ripped it out of her wrinkled claws and chucked it into a stream.

Further along the trail, the rocks got considerably larger. I'd say about the size of Sassy Blondie's boobies. As I'm sure you can imagine, the DyckMobile was hopping and bouncing all over the place. It was all I could do to maintain control of my penis...I mean, the wheel.

"WOO-HOO! GO FASTER! GO FASTER! WOO HOO!" yelled Chick #1.

I might have been turned on by that statement if she hadn't looked like Humpty Dumpty. Instead, she was just pissing me off. And did I mention the dime store perfume she was wearing?? Two weeks have gone by, and the DyckMobile STILL reeks of that bitch!

We bounced around for another hour and then stopped for lunch. Unfortunately there was no Burger Hole in the wilderness, so I had to settle for a cold bologna sandwich and a juice box. I felt like I was in fucking grammar school again. At this point I had to pee like a race horse, so I sneaked away from the group and knocked some bark off a tree.

The remainder of the trail was quite challenging. The biggest rocks yet - almost the size of RevRee's knockers. I was afraid we would bottom out or get stuck, but thanks to my superior driving skills, I was able to maneuver over and around the massive obstacles.

"GO FASTER! GO FASTER! WOO HOO!" screamed Humpty Dumpty.

I stopped the vehicle and turned around. "LISTEN HERE, YOU FAT FUCK! WHEN YOU GET YOUR OWN JEEP, YOU CAN ABUSE IT ANY WAY YOU WANT. BUT THIS ONE IS MINE, AND UNLESS YOU WANT TO PAY FOR MY FRONT END ALIGNMENT, I SUGGEST YOU LET ME DO THE DRIVING! NOW SHUT THE HELL UP OR YOU'LL BE SPENDING THE NIGHT OUT HERE!!!"

I might have gone a bit too far there. I really need to do something about my temper.

Finally we reached the end of the trail and I was able to dump the two broads by the side of the road. But I have to say, I'm quite proud of the DyckMobile for surviving the trip. Now if I could only get it to stop smelling like a five dollar whore.....

Your $$$ At Work

I'm happy to inform you that the Mighty Blog writers' strike may be nearing an end! Yes, the protestors are showing signs of weakening...especially since I put the live scorpions in their shorts. But until the writers are back at work, I thought I would regale you with an insider's look at Dyckerson's day job.

Some bloggers don't like to write about their jobs for fear of being outed. I don't have this fear. I stopped giving a shit long ago, mainly because I hate my fucking job. Basically I work in I.T. for a huge, faceless corporation that steals from its customers and robs its employees of their will to live. That's right, it's an insurance company. I've written about it many times before - like my jackass co-workers...my dipshit managers...and the shitty building itself. But I don't think I've ever shared with you how much goddamn time gets wasted here.

This place has all the efficiency of a toilet filled with bricks. You want to know why your insurance premiums are so fucking high?? Here's what I do in a nut's hell: Each month I receive a file on my computer device. This file contains data. I take the file and move it to another folder on my computer device. (Are you with me so far??) Once the file has been moved to the correct folder, I run a simple application on my computer device. This application copies the data in the file and pastes it into something we call a data warehouse. (Not to be confused with a data whorehouse, which is an entirely different matter.) Anyway, all I have to do to run this application is edit two lines of code and click a few buttons. A Rhesus monkey could do it. Hell, a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup could do it.

How long do you think this process takes? An hour or two?? Before you answer, I forgot to tell you I have to document every step I take ad nauseum. When I receive the file, I have to document it. When I move the file, I have to document it. When I copy the file to the data warehouse, I have to document that as well. And once I'm done documenting everything, I have to document the fact that I documented it.

NOW how long do you think this process takes? Wait, don't answer yet! I didn't mention the endless meetings and conference calls I must attend nearly EVERY FUCKING DAY. I meet with retarded clients who don't understand why they can't send us data in a different format without telling us. I meet with useless managers who want us to find ways to improve our process so they can look good to THEIR useless managers. I've never had a meeting that didn't end with me having MORE WORK.

NOW how long do you think this process takes? Stop right there, Pedro!! I neglected to tell you about the nasty emails from the Refrigerator Nazi and the constant interruptions from my loudmouth cube neighbor and the endless problems with our network that go ignored by our incompetent Help Desk whose members spend their time playing computer Solitaire and Texas Hang 'Em or whatever the fuck it's called.

NOW how long do you think this process takes? A day or two? Maybe a week?? Try ONE MONTH...and that's if I'm LUCKY (which, if you read my blog with any regularity whatsoever, you'll know I am NOT). That's right, a full month is required to move a file and load it into a database. Of course, there's a little more to it than that, but I had to dumb it down a bit for you morons. Still, it shouldn't take THIRTY FUCKING DAYS to load a file.

I can see why so many I.T. jobs are moving to India. I bet those foreign fuckers don't have to comb through tons of email and attend stupid meetings every day. They just go to work, move their files, and return to their tepees where they smoke their crack pipes and make novelty ashtrays to sell to retarded Americans on eBay. Which reminds me, I need to check my account. I hope nobody has outbid me...