Required Reading

Does Dickie enjoy making people laugh? Does a frog have a water tight asshole? Afflicted with Dickslexia at birth, a rare form of dyslexia specific only to him, Dickie’s view of the world is often distorted and daffy. After years stomping grapes in the vineyards of the Mojave Desert (he managed to produce a very dry wine) and slaughtering hogs in Palm Beach, he is now spending his free time to do what he loves best: goofing on the general population.  His new website, like road kill, won’t allow you to look away (it’s an adickshun) and you definitely will not want to eat it. Those who do can go to other websites, you sick freaks!

His great epiphany came to him at precisely 16:45 Zulu, Saturday, the 17th of November, 2007 when a dying mouse prophesized the true meaning of his life. It was a typical day, that time of the weekend to go upand  in the attic of his Victorian home collect dead mice stuck to those cruel and unusual punishing sticky traps. To his horror, Dickie saw that one was still alive frantically trying to pull himself free.  Although it was a calico mouse, he knew it was a male mouse because its oversized balls were stuck firmly. Most of the fur had already been torn off.

Normally Dickie would give the lousy rodent an aerial burial by tossing it out the attic window, but the mouse’s fruitless struggle fascinated him. The sad thing had stretched its nut sack to half his body length, yet kept tugging until Dickie’s presence startled him.

The little guy moaned and moaned then begged to be put out off his misery. He went on to say that without his mini’nads, there was no reason to go on. Dickie was somewhat surprised to hear a mouse talk but reached into his back pocket for a large pair of Vise Grips which he quickly adjusted to fit the mouse’s head. Just before Dickie was about to crush its tiny skull the mouse whispered in a very weak voice, “Your destiny, your destiny.”

Dickie was curious, released the pliers from his head, and leaned down to ask, “My destiny. What about my destiny?”

The little guy rubbed his balls for some relief, coughed a heavy smoker’s cough and whispered his final words, “The world is yours. You will be their ruler. The world is…”

CRUNCH!!! Actually it was more like a walnut sound.

“Bullshit! Who’s gonna believe a male calico talking mouse?” He still carries those deadly pliers with him to this day.

Dickie has been busy especially now that world domination is his main focus. Rumors are that he will use a single prong attack; propaganda through internet comedy. In addition to his blog (Caution: avoid it if the battery in your pace maker needs to be replaced) he is currently working on the four books. See the descriptions for those life altering volumes:

Nuke Punk



Blind Tomahawk



Bridge; Gramma Lurned it, You Shur Can


It’s All Your Fault or Why Companies and Employees Fail or Why We all Hate our Managers