We need a good motto.
And by “we” I mean us, people. The human race.
Doctors have a motto: First, do no harm (to the patient’s ability to pay).
Navy Seabees have a motto: Can do (your daughters)!
Strategic Air Command has a motto: Peace is our profession (carpet bombing your ass is more of a hobby).
The Boy Scouts have a motto: Be prepared (in case gay atheists try to invade America).
The US National Security Agency has a motto: Anything is possible, the impossible just takes longer (and a shitload more money, about a dozen illegal wiretaps, two repurposed satellites, and a couple cases of Top Ramen).
The Zapatista Army of National Liberation has a motto: Ya Basta! (Hey, it’s easy to remember and sounds good in a riot).
Hell, even Levi Johnson, erstwhile Palin stud horse, has a motto: Look at me! I’m naked! Woot! (Go, Levi! God, I love this kid).
I think, in general, all people should have a motto. Something to live up to, something to aspire to.
I have a suggestion, how about Don’t be a dick?
Seriously.
If ever there was an admirable life philosophy, that would have to be it. Just don’t be a dick. It would be like Google’s motto, Don’t Be Evil, except it would be for everybody.
Don’t be a dick.
I’m pretty sure that’s what Jesus meant when he said “do unto others...” If he meant for his followers to be dicks he’d have said, “Good news, we’re saved. To hell with everybody else. Party at my house!” Hell, most major religions have at their core the simple philosophy of don’t be a dick – and then their adherents go around being dicks trying to impose their prophet’s don’t be a dick message on everybody else. Seriously, suicide bombers? Major dicks. Jehovah’s Witnesses? I think I prefer the suicide bombers. TV evangelists? Do I need to spell it out, Dick Tracy? The framers of the US Constitution created a document that basically says the government can’t act like a dick – in retrospect, it’s obvious that they should have been a lot more specific, but then too should have been the guy who wrote the bible. In fact, ninety nine percent of the world’s problems are caused by people being dicks (the remaining 1% can be attributed to the machinations of cats). War? Caused by a little prick from Texas. Recession? A couple of rich fuckers on Wall Street were responsible for that. The housing crash? Greedy wankers in the banking industry. Bigotry? Global warming? Spam? Westboro Baptist Church? Somali pirates? Vista? All caused by people being dicks. You know I’m right, read the news – that balloon kid? His parents are dicks. That guy with the shitty beard in Iran? Dick. The guy in the pajamas in North Korea? Dick. The former VP bashing the current president? Dick Cheney. Those two pilots who were arguing in the cockpit about how bad their 150K a year jobs suck and missed the turnoff for Minneapolis and about a hundred radio calls? Captain Dick and Dickie the Co-pilot. Jon and Kate Gosselin? Should be Dick and Dick Gosselin. And the media who insist that the vile antics of this revolting pair of human hard-ons is actually newsworthy? Dicks. And the knuckle dragging mouth breathers who actually tune in to encourage this public car crash? The biggest dicks of all – but, then I guess dog pit fighting and tractor pulls are currently in reruns or something.
Is it just me? Or do there seem to be a whole lot more dicks than there used to be?
It’s easy to spot them, isn’t it? One of the simplest methods is to hunt them in the dark. They stand out in the dark. Next time you’re in traffic at night, glance in your rearview mirror, look into the stream of oncoming traffic – see that car with the actinic blue headlines like twin welding arcs that leave permanent burns on your retinas? The guy driving that car is a complete cock. Don’t drive? Step into a movie theater, any face you can see illuminated by cell phone light? Those are the peckerheads. They glow in the dark, the dicks do.
How much better would it be if everybody had the motto don’t be a dick as their guiding principle?
Bernie: You know, even though I’m richer than Scrooge McDuck, I want more money. I needs it, Precious. The gold, it pleases us, yes yes!
Assistant: uh…
Bernie: Let’s see, let’s see. I know! Bawahahahahaha! I’ll turn the company into the biggest Ponzi scheme the world has ever known! I’ll screw widows out of their pensions. Yes, yes! I’ll steal from orphans! Oh, yes! I’ll squeeze and squeeze the investors of every last penny, and then I’ll squeeze them some more! Oooooh! I am the Walrus, coocoo Chachoo!
Assistant: Uh…Mr. Madoff, sir?
Bernie: What is it, Minion? Did you bring me more loot? Add it to the booty pile!
Assistant: You’re being a dick, sir.
Bernie: What? Are you sure?
Assistant: Oh, yes, I’m sure. Right now you’re Dickity Dick McDickerstein.
Bernie: What was my motto again? Wasn’t it be a dick?
Assistant: Don’t be a dick, sir.
Bernie: Oh…damn.
See how that works? Think how much better things would be if we made that mandatory.
After I become Ultimate Emperor of the Universe, I’m going to impose that motto on the general population – which I admit, is sort of a dick thing to do, but like I said, people should have a motto. People, as in the general rabble, should have a motto. Oh sure, after I seize ultimate power, people will still get a choice. Sure, they can insist on being dicks if they absolutely must do so. I’m just saying that if you insist on begin a dick, there’s going to be some consequences, you’re not going to get rewarded for it, that’s what I’m saying here.
Take the dick separator lane – or as I call it, the Fuck You Lane. That’s the lane that looks like a regular lane, but disappears right after the stoplight. The purpose of this lane is to separate the dicks from the non-dicks. The people who came up with this idea are dicks, and the people who form up in that lane and squeal away at the green light in order to cut everybody off are dicks too. Now, you see this everywhere, the dick separator lane, it started in California and has spread plague-like to the four corners of the world – hell, they even have one here on the military base. The funny thing is that unlike outside the fence in the civilian world, almost nobody uses it here on base. Military folks are trained to look out for each other, they roll onto base and stop at the light and everybody stays in the left lane. Nobody tries to get around the line and jump to the front.
Well, almost nobody.
There’s always one guy. He’s usually driving some little Junior Officer mobile, you know the one they issue with your fighter jock wings – he always pulls out of the back of the line and zooms to the front, because, see, as a pilot he shouldn’t have to wait in line with ground pounders. He’s special. Screw everybody else, screw his squad mates and fellow airmen and soldiers. Screw. Them. He has got to get to the ready room first so he can spend fifteen minutes admiring himself in the mirror in his spiffy green g-suit.
After I’m Emperor of the Universe, I’m using that lane to determine who gets volunteered (or what we in the military call voluntold) for the dangerous missions. Want to be first, do you, Lt Dickhead? OK. You get to probe the enemy air corridor, before the air defense suppression package is in place – we’ll use you to figure out where the anti-air missile batteries are. Good luck, dickweed, you’ll need it and thanks for volunteering. How’s first looking now, Maverick?
Out in the civilian world, I’m just going to put a pit with pointy stakes in the bottom at the end of every Fuck You lane. Fuck you. No, no no, fuck you and your blue headlights.
You know who else are dicks? Femnists. Oh I don’t mean feminists, small eff. I like strong women. I’m married to one. No, I mean Feminists with a big damned angry capital case of I’m offended by stupid irrelevant things – like the fact that the president doesn’t play basketball with women on his lunch break. Seriously? Instead of noticing that he appointed more women – including the Queen Bitch of the Universe, who was his most bitter rival during the campaign – than any other President in history to actual powerful governmental positions within his administration where they have direct influence on the actual operation of this country, these people are raising a stink that Obama doesn’t play recreational sports with woman during his afternoon pickup game? Are you kidding me? Dicks. What’s the logic here? The boys are doing the real business of government on the court? Please.
Random Lobbyist Guy: Mr. President, Mr. President! Can we talk about healthcare reform for a minute?
EVERYBODY ELSE: Don’t be a dick, Dick, shoot the goddamned ball!
Seriously, do these idiots even know what basketball is? Have they ever seen a pick-up game of basketball? Ever? Trust me, nobody is discussing anything more important than how much your jump shot totally sucks donkey balls. Christ on a pogo stick, you wanna play? Put on your jock strap and get the fuck in there.
I swear, once I’ve assumed ultimate power, I’m going to appoint Andrew Dice Clay as High Lord Air Marshal of Equal Opportunity and Wet T-Shirt Contests, just so they have something legitimate to actually be offended by.
How about Ron Paul? Whoa, major case of dick-rash this morning.
I always thought the guy was an unhinged nut about one fifth of Jack Daniels shy of being an Exxon tanker captain (Proof? Hello, republican from Texas. Are we done here? Thought so), but if there was a Nobel Prize for Being The World’s Biggest Dildo For a Day, today would Ron Paul day. Paul, along with Rep Cliff Stearns (R-FL) and Rep Ginny Brown-Waite (R-FL) delivered a letter to President Obama informing him that in their Bush Owned State opinions, the President cannot accept the Nobel Peace Prize unless he gets congressional permission. Waite-Stearns said, “I urge President Obama to affirm his devotion to our Constitution and seek the consent of Congress before accepting the award in Oslo, Norway, on December 10.”
Face palm.
Because, apparently a president doesn’t need permission to be universally reviled the world over, but admired and respected? Yeah, we’re not going to put up with that Norwegian bullshit. I mean, holy hell, they want to give the President a Nobel Peace Prize? How fucking embarrassing is that? Who do those socialist pussies think they are anyway? Canadians? It’s like France is breaking out all over!
I hereby urge these three retards to affirm their devotion to our Constitution and go do the job they were actually elected to do, instead of being complete hypocritical tools. Of course, these are the same pudknockers who think that George W. Bush is a real no foolin’ motivational speaker and are willing to shell out major greenbacks in order to hear his stimulating lectures on world peace, global prosperity, and Texas Barbeque Jeeeesus Style. I’ve heard GWB speak in person, trust me here, he should be paying them. His speech patterns are like having knitting needles jammed into your ears. Flaming knitting needles, dipped in the preserved stomach acid of Ronald Reagan. Seriously, if they don’t knock it off, once I’m Ultimate Emperor of the Universe I’m going to lock the entire GOP in a room with an endless loop recording of George W. Bush’s greatest hits alternating with with Al Gore’s Nobel Acceptance speech and a pistol with a single bullet – just to see who cracks first.
Yes, yes, I’m always a bit ranty the day after a migraine.
But, at least I’m not a dick about it.
Not yet, anyway.
Seriously folks, we need a motto.
And a poster:
_______________________________ _____________________________
Update: Okay, obviously we need to add the dicks at Adobe to the list. What’s the deal with updates to Adobe Acrobat reader anyway? It’s just a reader for a 30 year old piece of shit document format, what in the name of the Big Eared Six Trunked Elephant God can be so goddamned important that I need an update right fucking now? Do you want to update Adobe? No. How about now? Do you want to do it now? No, fuck off. Now? Do you want to update now? No, die you bitch. Guess what? We’re just going to update you anyway. Seriously, Adobe, you’re being dicks. Stop it right now.
