Vintage Style

De Plane, De Plane!

Ladies and gentlemen, I have done it again! No, I didn't take another dump behind an area high school. I just scored the interview that everybody has been wanting to get: Captain Chesley Q. Sullenberger, the U.S. Airways pilot who successfully landed an airplane on the Hudson River after both engines got goosed. So take that, CNN! Here's the official transcript:


Dyck: First of all, thank you for taking time to meet with me today.
Sully: No problemo, homes.
Dyck: I think the first question on everybody's mind is your first name. Chesley. What's the deal with that?
Sully: Look, I can't help it if my parents were fags. Why do you think I make people call me Sully?
Dyck: Fair enough. So tell us the events leaving up to that harrowing flight last Thursday.
Sully: Well, it was a day like any other day. I got up, fixed myself a scotch and soda, downed a couple of Pop Tarts, and headed out. The wife was bitching about how cold it was, so I stopped by Goodwill and got an awesome deal on a used Snuggie.
Dyck: Perhaps we could skip ahead to the flight itself...
Sully: Oh yeah. Well everything was fine at first. We took off from LaGuardia and started making our ascent. I remember seeing a flock of geese headed straight for us...and the next thing I know, KABLAM!! Two engines done blowed up!
Dyck: That must have been horrifying.
Sully: Not really at first. See, I thought Airbuses had like six or seven engines. Then my co-pilot reminded me there were only two. Boy, was my face red!
Dyck: Who is your co-pilot?
Sully: God. Ha, ha! Just kidding! That's an old pilot's joke. Actually his name is Striker. Ted Striker.
Dyck: So what happened next?
Sully: I knew we couldn't make it back to the airport. We were going to try to land in Central Park, but we couldn't because of all the fucking trees. We finally settled on the Hudson.
Dyck: Is that when you told the passengers to brace for impact?
Sully: Heh. Not exactly. What I actually said was, Put your heads between your legs and kiss your asses goodbye!!!
Dyck: That wasn't very encouraging.
Sully: Hey, have you ever tried landing a billion ton metal tube on a river filled with shit and cadavers??!
Dyck: OK, OK. I guess that's when your years of training really kicked in.
Sully: Umm, yeah. About the training thing. Seems the media kinda screwed that up. This is only my second week of flying. Before that I was a bartender. I think you got me confused with Captain Wesley Baconberger from Queens. Happens all the time. Now that guy's quite a pilot!
Dyck: Wow. So in spite of your lack of experience, you were able to pull off a water landing with no fatalities??
Sully: Well, I do have some experience. I've got Wings of War and Flight Academy on my XBox. The graphics are really amazing.
Dyck: I see. So the plane has stopped, and you're floating in the water. What next?
Sully: At that point, my survival instincts kicked in. I knew we only had a short time before the plane would sink, so I wanted to get rid of as much weight as possible. Rosie O'Donnell happened to be sitting in first class, so I tossed her overboard. The plane immediately rose several feet. Then there was a crippled kid in a wheelchair blocking the emergency exit, so I threw him overboard as well.
Dyck: How awful!!
Sully: Tell me about it. One of that kid's wheels rolled over my left foot. Very painful. Anyway, a boat showed up right after that, so I pushed the other passengers out of the way and climbed on board.
Dyck: You mean you didn't stay and help the passengers??
Sully: Well DUH! It was fucking freezing out there!! Besides, that's the stewardess' job. I think. Hell, I don't know.
Dyck: So what's next for you?
Sully: I'm doing two segments on Rachel Ray tomorrow. We're making Chesley Sullen Burgers. After that, I need to talk to my attorney about getting a divorce.
Dyck: A divorce? I didn't know your marriage was in trouble.
Sully: It's not...but now that I'm a hero, I can get all the poon I want! No sense in being tied down, if you know what I mean.
Dyck: Well good luck with that. And thanks for being here on The Mighty Blog.
Sully: Anytime. Peace out, bitches!!

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.

I Have Returned.

Christmas cums early this year, ladies and germs...for I, the Mightiest of Dyckersons, have returned to The Mighty Blog!!! Let us rejoice and give thanks!!!

I know I've been gone for a while. I missed Thanksgiving. I missed Halloween (the Haunted Poon post was a rerun from last year, in case you idiots didn't notice). Fuck, I even missed the election of America's first Afro-American president, Balack Osama!

The Internets have been buzzing about rumors concerning my absence. Some of you thought I had passed away. Others assumed I was incarcerated. A few of you even thought I had actually gotten a social life and perhaps acquired poon. Well you are all wrong! More wrong, in fact, than Ms. Babble smoking crack during her latest pregnancy, which resulted in her giving birth to a baby with Down's Syndrome.

The truth is, I was the victim of a cruel prank played upon me by a deranged journalist. About two months ago, I scheduled a press conference to announce the release of my new fragrance, Simply Dyck (makes a great stocking stuffer). Anyway, I was standing at the podium addressing a sea of eager reporters, when out of nowhere I was hit upside the head by a fresh turd. It seems old Dyckerson isn't too popular in the Middle East (something to do with a joke I made about a camel and lonely Shiite)...so apparently a reporter from that region somehow sneaked past security and assaulted me with the only weapon he had available - his own feces. I was lucky to escape with my life, but the attack left me so traumatized, that it has taken me weeks to gather up the courage to write about it.

Now before I officially return to blogging, there are a few housekeeping matters that need attention. First, I have removed The Chat Hole from the sidebar. My blog has been plagued with pop-ups for quite some time. I suspect it may have been coming from the third-party chat box code. So if any of you fuckers still get pop-ups, notify Dyckerson post haste.

Second, I removed several deadbeat bloggers from The Mighty Blog Network. This leaves several openings for new top-quality blogs that meet my lofty standards of excellence. So if you wish to nominate such a blog, please feel free to do so. But remember, Dyckerson reserves the right to reject or remove any blog from The Mighty Blog Network without notice.

And finally, it's the holidays!! That means I have replaced the seizure-inducing flashing white lights in the background with puke-inducing colored lights! Now go make a joyful noise...and spread the word: DYCKERSON IS BACK!

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.

The Straight Talk Express Stops Here

Snubbed once again.

The second presidential debate was held Tuesday night, and was I invited to participate? NOOOO!!! Mighty Dyckerson, unofficial turd-party candidate for the highest office in the land, demands equal time!!! And since the mainstream media won't give it to me, I shall utilize the power of The Mighty Blog to get my message to the people. I'm going to answer the very same questions posed by that fucking fossil Tom Brokewind right now, and we'll just see who the best candidate is!


Q: With the economy on the downturn and retired and older citizens and workers losing their incomes, what's the fastest, most positive solution to bail these people out of the economic ruin?

A: The geezers who can't support themselves need to either (A) get a job, or (B) commit suicide. I know that sounds harsh, my friends, but these are desperate times we live in. And as the saying goes, desparate times call for killing old people.

Q: Obviously the powers of the treasury secretary have been greatly expanded. The most powerful officer in the cabinet now, Hank Paulson, says he won't stay on. Who do you have in mind to appoint to that very important post?

A: I'm going to go with Lakeesha Watkins, the cashier at my nearby Taco Bell drive-thru. Let me tell you why. Last night I had a hankerin' for a Big Beefy Burrito Supreme, so I hopped in my beautiful golden parachute-colored Jeep Wrangler DyckMobile and made a run for the border. Lakeesha was on duty and promptly filled my order. I reached for my wallet to pay for my purchase, but it was dark out, so I couldn't see well. Turns out I accidentally handed her a one dollar bill instead of a five dollar bill. She counted the money, then looked at me and said, "Mister, you owe me four bucks." I already had my burrito, so I just sped off into the night. But friends, I think you'll agree that this is the kind of honesty, integrity, and counting skill that we need in Washington.

Q: Through this economic crisis, most of the people that I know have had a difficult time. And through this bailout package, I was wondering what it is that's going to actually help those people out.

A: First of all, we shouldn't be calling it a "bailout" package. It's more of an investment package...only we won't be getting the money back. I should also remind everyone that I canceled my appearance on Regis last week so I could rush to Washington to help clean up this mess. Unfortunately, I missed my flight and ended up having unprotected intercourse with a filthy whore in the back seat of a Ford Maverick. And that's just what this country needs: A Maverick.

Q: Are you saying that the American economy is going to get much worse before it gets better and they ought to be prepared for that?

A: Well, the Boy Scout motto is "Be Prepared," so I'm certainly not going to argue with that. I don't know what the Girl Scout motto is, but godammit, they sure make some tasty cookies. Am I right people??!

Q: Health policies, energy policies, and entitlement reform, what are going to be your priorities in what order? Which of those will be your highest priority your first year in office and which will follow in sequence?

A: Well I don't know what the hell entitlement reform is. I think you made it up. So I'm scratching that one off the list. That leaves energy as my top priority, andI believe solar power is the answer...but we as a nation must put an end to our dependency on faraway stars to provide it. Our sun is a mean, angry bitch, and she could turn on us at any time. We must start looking for solar energy right here at home...so as president, I will loosen restrictions on offshore drilling for sunlight.

Q: Since World War II, we have never been asked to sacrifice anything to help our country, except the blood of our heroic men and women. As president, what sacrifices will you ask every American to make to help restore the American dream and to get out of the economic morass that we're now in?

A: World War II? How old are you, 80?? That's ancient history! Look, my friends. We're Americans. We don't make sacrifices...ok, except for that thing about the soldiers' blood. The key is to put it off til the next generation. After all, what good are kids if we can't burden them with the consequences of our mistakes after we're dead and gone??

Q: Would you give Congress a date certain to reform Social Security and Medicare within two years after you take office?

A: No, because I am doing away with both programs. Instead, every senior citizen above the age of 65 shall be required to appear as a contestant on Deal or No Deal. Whatever they win, that's what they have to live off of for the rest of their pathetic, miserable lives.

And what happened next was so horrible, so unbelievably awful, you will not believe your eyes. And you'll find out what that was..........on the next installment of The Mighty Blog!!!

Bail Me Out!

My friends, I don't need to tell you that America is in a financial crisis. Our economy is on the verge of total collapse...and no where is that more apparent than right here at Dyckerson Enterprises Worldwide, home of The Mighty Blog. That's because in addition to producing the fastest-growing blog on the innerwebs, Dyckerson Enterprises also happens to own Semen Brothers, the 47th largest sperm bank on the entire eastern seaboard.

The trouble began about a month ago when I, Mighty Dyckerson, lost function of my right hand in an horrific automobile accident. Because of this injury, my ability to produce splooge was greatly compromised, preventing me from making my daily deposits at the sperm bank. When news of this got out, investors on Wad Street panicked and released their loads of Semen. Stock prices immediately squirted downward.

As if things weren't bad enough, last night the giant freezer that contained all of the Semen deposits suddenly failed, causing hundreds of gallons of spunk to thaw. Experts estimate over 700 billion little swimmers were lost in the disaster.

Now there are people out there who claim to have predicted this. They said it was only a matter of time before the cum bubble would burst, and perhaps they were right. But now is not the time to point fingers (or anything else). The liquified jizm is leaking from the freezer and pouring out all over the floors. Semen Brothers needs to be bailed out - literally! So bring your mops, buckets, sponges, squeegees, and Shop-Vacs down to our headquarters and help clean up this Godawful mess. And hurry the fuck up - thousands of infertile Myrtles and lezbo couples are counting on you!!!