For those unfamiliar, a “Dick Move” is something done by an individual or group that is purposefully and knowingly hurtful yet can be appreciated for its craftsmanship and deft placement. Usually there is a sinister back story to it all, but that is secondary. The term comes from the pejorative word for mens’ genitalia, and ‘move’, a verb.
Note: Identification of a Dick Move is not an endorsement or disapproval of the action, merely an acknowledgement that a Dick Move has taken place.
In this edition, we look at the 2nd Act of the film Rudy, a bio-pic of Daniel “Rudy” Ruettiger- a long shot to play football at Notre Dame who perseveres despite significant self vs. self and self vs. world obstacles.
At this point in the story, Rudy has made the team and during practice spots a woman who kicked him off the boosters club previously for not being an actual ND student (he was attending Holy Cross Junior College at the time). Seizing his opportunity to project animosity from years of successive doubters onto this one particular female undergrad now that he had leveraged some form of social currency, Ruettiger runs over to her on the sideline and asks a rhetorical, “Don’t I know you?”.
Really nice deployment of a passive-aggressive time-bomb meant to explode in the face of a representative of the bureaucracy and culture that doubted him all these years. What satisfaction he must have had, running back to clang his body into other human beings, at the behest of a barking coach, in Indiana, that Tuesday night.
With the free market dictating so much of society these days, I have found that my clothing, appearance, and hygiene are all directly impacted by its invisible forces.
For starters, the fleeting possibility of having grand events to celebrate any successes has brought me to wear all my nice items inappropriately to everyday situations so they don’t go to waste before I die. Like a street bum, I use all items in my possession wisely and like a rapper I am overdressing to compensate for how poor I am. This can also prove practical. Getting drunk on a Tuesday in a tuxedo jacket and Ascot? Going to come in handy when I am selling pills and bartered jewelry out of my coat to make rent. I can also conceal a knife in here in case anyone wants to steal a kidney, or my pills.
A hat is great. In addition to looking like the gentleman you are, they’ll keep you dry while sleeping in the rain and are easy to come by on windy days.
With all this running around, it might be tempting to take a shower. But with the price of freshwater increasing as public infrastructure is decimated in the face of privatization, we all should get used to the idea of skipping one every once in awhile. If you don’t have access to a shower, here’s what to do: wash your crack with damp napkins at a food restaurant bathroom – the employees won’t be the wiser as you are dressed like a gentleman ; ) Some forest preserves still have well water too, if vagrancy has brought upon you that good fortune. When really hard up for cash and in need of a shower, barter a couple seconds of Do-It-Yourself car wash water from Uber-drivers hosing the puke off their car. All you need is 10 seconds on spot free rinse to have a perfectly effective bidet and only in rare cases do they need to wash the whole vehicle too. If none of these options are possible, use perfume/eau de toilette to cover up your stink. This is what the French invented the stuff for, and everyone has old bottles lying around. You have to do something about the smell of cigars, whiskey, jaundice, and B.O. on your person, and running freshwater + a bar of soap are not always an option!
I guess my point is you have to be resourceful and look at everything like a commodity these days. You never know when you’ll have to give a handjob under a zoo tunnel for dope or talk your way into a country club to swipe fine china, but you can- at the very least, be prepared.
I’ve thought more about communicating this message to a mass audience via gross blog more than any human should. Hours have been spent-stoned, reflecting on left turns of the day. Analyzing different aspects of creep-up techniques, gauging the risk of collision, picking my nose in a papasan chair. But I won’t bore you with the construction of my research, I won’t insult you with didactic diatribes about fiddling with your phone whilst driving. I give to you the nuts and bolts, the distilled essence of my findings, the-the cock and balls, if you will…
When turning left, do your best to give the person behind you at least A CHANCE of making the light as well.
Thanks a lot.
“You know, we’re living in a SOCIETY.” – George Costanza (imgross influence #234)
Sorry. “Affy Tapples” are exceedingly gross. There are never crisp, juicy apples underneath that caramel varnish. It’s always a bruised, yellow, soft piece of shit. Oh, you put some shitty nuts on top to try and distract me? Fuck you. Where’d I buy this again? Walgreens? Fuck. I’m such a moron. Knew I shouldn’t have put 3K on the Brewers to win the NL pennant. What the fuck was I thinking? I need a drink…
Who is in charge of creating “Drink Recipes” for Burger King? What a joke. Let’s break down these brilliant ideas…
Half & Half
1/2 Coke 1/2 Diet Coke is the laziest suggestion on here. If consumers can’t figure this one out for themselves they need to die a quicker death. Think needle-drugs, not 2 for 1 Original Chicken sandwiches. Extra negative points for not giving credit to Jack Black for this “new drink” when he mentioned it in 2001’s Tenacious D album on track 19 (Drive-Thru). F+ Click.
Black & White
The fact that the “white” part of this drink is illustrated in green should alone have disqualified it from making this list. Not to mention the fact that it already has a name. Bar/Restaurant Ginger Ale. Terrible.
This one is a blatant rip off every 6-year-old knows as A Tornado. You’re better off telling people to “just mix everything together” instead of having them understand fractions. (Not to mention that the name is sexually suggestive and without fail always tastes like shit)
If you’re cutting Dr. Pepper with anything, it should be Southern Comfort, however in this case Black Gold fails because Dr. Pepper is basically perfect as a soda pop and shouldn’t be fucked with. I’ll stick with a good old original.
Dr. Pepper over a lot of ice.
I’d like to see the alternate version of this ad where the graphic is an old-timey shoemaker suffering through the scrubbing out of some dumb bitch’s gross Uggs.
This looks like a middle finger.
Ba da ba ba ba…
Did anyone doubt her sanity while sporting a haircut 30 years too late? Jesus, she looks like everyone’s aunt who was born in 1946.
I prefer my restauranteurs to be fat, Italian, and unashamed of their hair loss problems in addition to providing the freshest ingredients.