Fucking FINALLY.

28 07 2008

A little over three years ago, I decided that I wanted to be an internet humorist. Never mind that I had no experience writing comedy. Never mind that the only person who happened to find me hysterical was a family member. Never mind that I hadn’t seriously written anything of my own free will since I was a junior in high school. Never mind all of that–I wanted to be a humorist.

People were always telling me that I should be a stand-up comedian. It’s no surprise, then, that I took to calling people mental defectives. Or more specifically, fucktards. I was not made for stand-up comedy, as evidenced by my inability to think while standing, nor was I made for comedy alone, as evdenced by my desire to make people cry. I’m a serious “literary” writer foremost, with the “humor” coming in at a close second.

As I was saying, I set about becoming an internet humorist. Drawing inspiration from personal heroes like Jay Pinkerton, John Cheese, and David Wong, I began toiling away, fashioning masterpieces like afterthoughts. I was ready to take on and usurp Pinkerton’s throne, overthrow the kingdom, and have all the people of the land flogged. My first action in that plan was to electronically assault any and all media outlets on the internet with all of my throbing masterworks.

The next step, I’m sure you know, was to fail miserably.

For months on end, I was crotch-punched by every conceivable website. “We’re sorry, but your style of humor is not appropriate for our publication,” said Woman’s Day. it was a hard thing to go through, all that rejection. Sending out one article to a large group of different publishers is like being turned down by a really beautiful girl who then follows you around for the rest of the day, repeating “No, I will not go out with you, you talentless waste of viable organs.” Yes. Almost exactly like that.

I didn’t give up, though. I harassed amd cajoled until I was blue in the face. I kept my abilities sharp by writing on my MySpace blog almost every day, which eventually led to the birth of this abomination unto the written word. I kept reading , kept writing, kept sending in unsolicited articles and essays to my main target, the venerable CRACKED dot COM. Eventually, a plum fell. A three-part article I did was picked up by some obscure online magazine that didn’t pay me anything, didn’t format the article at all, and who sent me the longest fucking contract in freelance history.

After that, well, things remained as they had been for the uncounted preceding months: in short, I got nothin’. As time passed, I became a little more mature, and so did my writing. I met Kelly, who inspired my first bit of serious poetry that has now been published in print a total of five times. I created an idiotic adventurer whose insane shenanigans became a minute sensation among a very specific group of people (my family). Then, one day a mild-mannered little humor site called Yankee Pot Roast decided to dust off their backlog of emails and read the story I sent them. Three days later, Dickerson P. Cockley’s Because I Wrestle Alligators hit their front page.

Lest I drag this on too long, let me summarize:

  • Dickerson was then published again at YPR.
  • I became a professional essayist and researcher.
  • Dickerson was published in print, in India.
  • David Wong became Editor of Cracked’s website
  • Another poem was published in print, this one also about Kelly.
  • I started doing comics for John Cheese’s site.
  • I wrote an erotic novel that may still get published.
  • I moved to San Marcos

And now we come to today. Batman has been in theaters for nearly a month, far and away the greatest superhero movie of all time. I pitched an artilce idea to Cracked.com about real-life vigilantes. It received warm reviews and was moved to the thread where potential articles are kept for editing and critique. Then, just two short days ago, I logged in to find my article missing from the “considered” thread.

Wong had moved it to the thread reserved for articles that have been ACCEPTED by the editorial staff. Now, I just have to wait and listen to whatever the editors request of me. Either way, I get fifty bucks and a chance at website traffic bonuses.

What’s more is that–after three years of trying, during which time Jay Pinkerton was let go from quit Cracked to become a sexy adventurer/writer of sexy adventure video games, Pointless Waste of Time became Cracked’s messageboards, and David Wong took over as Editor of the site–an article of mine is finally going to be published on a big-name website. Not only that, but I’m finally going to get paid for my non-professional writing.

Three years is a long time to wait, buddy. What’s even worse is being rejected for that entire time and not ever really knowing how to remedy the situation. Oh well.

Oh, one more thing: for those of you out there who are just aching for another DIckerson story–get ready. This new one is going to rock your houses.

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Batman vs. Superman

21 07 2008

This is how it went down.





I don’t know if I can handle “President Romney”.

18 07 2008

Apparently, former not-BFFs John McCain and Mitt Romney are doing the Vice President dance. If Romney gets it right, he’ll be the next President of the United States. Even John McCain seems to be aware of the likelihood that he won’t survive his time in office. Look:

Mr. McCain has tended to say that he does not believe geographical considerations matter much in modern politics … and that he is most concerned about finding someone who shares his beliefs and who could take over as president if necessary.

So sayeth the New York Times, anyway. I’m going to start a betting pool.





What we have here is failure to communicate.

16 07 2008

We bitch constantly about Mexicans not having the decency to learn and speak English. I’ve heard old men go on and on about it like this country has always been made up of people who spoke perfect English. Like we all just landed here, fresh from whichever countries weren’t good enough, or whose inhabitants were unfriendly and mean, and we all spoke English as written by MIss Emily Brontë.

We bitch about that, but nobody ever mentions the people who know English, who were raised speaking it, but still gibber like idiots whenever someone asks them a question about something important. We call these people “corporate professionals”. For these poor souls, plain English is a terrifying language. Comparable to other languages, which consequently are known as our native tongue’s predecessors, English is like a wide, well-lit hallway that has no points of egress.

Not so, with a little financial jargon thrown in the mix. Now, there are shadows and things to hide behind, escape plans, points of egress. It’s comfortable for the corporate professional because he knows that he can, at any point, back right out of anything he says, because no one could righteously hold him responsible for any of the ridiculous things he just said. 

You may have heard the news about Budweiser’s makers. Well, that same sort of corporate non-talk is all over that NY Times article. You get the feeling like they’re almost saying something, like they’re really trying to get it across, but on our end, all we hear is “building synergies” and “streamlining the paradigms” and other impressively meaningless statements of that sort. 

To be fair, that article didn’t have a high jargon content. It just irked me to think of all these Harvard M.B.A.s getting several degrees of wealthy by selling Anheuser-Busch to the Belgians. They all talk like that, those money guys. Tom Wolfe nailed the type down pretty solidly in “A Man in Full”, within the character of Wismer Strook, or The Whiz. The Whiz is a pretty sharp fellow, but he was trained to talk like an idiot at college. 

Anyway, just thought I’d share that with all of you. Also, to round out the article by returning to the title and making a Paul Newman reference:

Between him and Eastwood, we’re just about out of good old-fashioned, ass-kicking hero types. That fact bothers me a little bit.





Welsh Super-Genius Sees Moon, Ducks

6 07 2008

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.





In Memory of…

4 07 2008

In order to properly commemorate the life and accomplishments of Senator Jesse Helms, I’ve decided to post this old thing I wrote. It was unfinished and abandoned, but hey–big news today, am I right?

Remember When Hating Blacks and Gays Really Meant Something? 

By Jesse Helms

 I remember those days. When people like Strom Thurmond used to rail against those dark-skinned peter-touching Commies like there was no tomorrow. Those were the good old days. Now, this is that tomorrow we never expected to come–owing in part to our healthy belief that Jesus is coming soon to kill all the niggers and homos with a sword–and where do we find ourselves but neck-deep in caramel-colored queerboys who don’t think twice about appearing out in public, or even looking a person right in the eye and saying “Hello!”

…and on Sunday, of all days!

Anyway, these days it’s getting to where a good hardworking Christian fellow can’t even shove a Chinaman off of a city sidewalk anymore. That’s city property! How can they just walk around on it like they own the place? Now, I’m not a racist, or anything, but I strongly disagree with allowing Chinamen and Chinawomen on city sidewalks. It’s not that they’re Chinese, or whatever yellow country they’re from; it’s that they’re not American

I’m getting off the main road here. The point of all this has been that I have lost faith in my country. That might seem like a comical statement coming from a tired old country cynic like me, but it’s the truth. You’ve let me and the whole rest of the world down, America:

Chinamen!

Allowing this filth to exist anywhere in the world is tantamount to slapping little baby Jesus in the face with a rainbow-painted black boy. Chinamen

May God have mercy. 

Sincerely, 

Newly Dead Ex-Senator Jesse Helms

 

Special Author’s Note: So I hopefully won’t come off as a dick when people read this, I have to explain that this has nothing to do with being glad he’s dead, or that he “deserved it”, or anything. Over all, he seemed like a pretty colorful character (pun mildly intended) who brought a degree of rustic charm to the Senate.

So he was a homophobe and a racist. So are a lot of other people, except Helms had the nutsack to come right out and say it. Then again, he was also a powerful United States senator, so that kind of fucks things up a little. Oh well. Anyways, he’s dead.

A moment of silence, please: 

Peace out, G.





So maybe I’m not as mature as I thought.

3 07 2008

Because I find this place hysterical. For those of you who happen to have a slow connection, and those of you just too fucking lazy to navigate away, here’s a few of my favorites: