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A timeline of screwups, bureaucracy, mass shootings, bad assumptions, and how Road Rage: Australia was ruined, hot monkey bars, making the Internet safe for women, vegans, my “My Name is Earl” plan, the bullshit correlation between selfies and suicide, “mutual understandings” between hostile negotiating fuck buddies, How to Gaslight, Sean feeds a Wallaby, and the most embarrassing time I’ve ever thrown up; all that and more this week on The Dick Show!
 Johnny the Audio Engineer
Did a great job. People who walk without purpose. |
Is a Rage! Not a Rage. |
Layc Nichole
Playmate, Journalist. |
Is a Rage! Not a Rage. |
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After months of hype and planning, Road Rage: Australia is DOA, stumped and refunded, and Sean is in Australia on his own having the vacation of my lifetime. Feeding wallabies, feeding Dickheads, feeding hot hotel maids; the list of native wildlife goes on and on, just like my list of excuses for why the first international Dick Show tour got completely fucked up. This week, I try to figure out why. I’m still not sure where the smoking gun lies. It’s a perfect storm of incompetence, bureaucracy, and mass shootings, but one this is certain, it took teamwork.
It took a village. A tyranny of bad advice peddlers that persists to this day, unabated and without the slightest hint of shame or remorse or even recognition in the face of the grievous crime of inconvenience committed against blissful ignorance.
“Remember yesterday when you said the Australian embassy can help with my travel visa and that I need to get up early and drive across town to be there when the doors open at 9:00 AM? Well they say they don’t do that, they’ve never done that, and that they want you to stop telling other people that they do.”
“Huh. There must be different kinds of visas they can help with–”
“They even gave me this card–their business card, which on the back has in bright red lettering, “we don’t handle any visa issues. Fuck you!” Here it is.”
“Huh. That’s weird. Are you sure you went to the right address?”
Meaning, of course, that I didn’t go to the right address.
It’s weird, all right! It’s weird that it wouldn’t be the case, but that’s a bad assumption. It’s weird that the belief of and in knowledge can persist in spite of overwhelming and direct evidence to the contrary. It’s weird that that would be the case, but that’s a bad assumption. It’s weird that as the Boomer-bound, information-based economy dies, and is replaced by an attention-based economy, we have to be more wary than ever of bad assumptions. Where the social currency of the time is not dependent on utility, but on accessibility. The first person to answer the question gets the points. The answer itself is irrelevant.
“Your visa wasn’t approved. It’s probably because of the content of your show.”
Which you knew of in advance, and didn’t account for? Another bad assumption. A bad assumption built on a sinkhole of bad assumptions, on an illusion of bad assumptions, on a tesseract of bad assumptions, that results in embarrassment–not theirs of course! And never have I seen so many “correct decisions” in the face of such a complete fucking failure. In the hopes that maybe if everyone squints collectively, Rufio’s food will become real, Mary Swanson will come around eventually, and the zero will start to look like a one. You’re just not looking at the right angle.
If salt was be measured by the metric fuck-ton, all of the salt ever mined in the history of the human race would be called one me. I am the alpha and the omega of salt, a continuum and infinity of salt. A singularity–a saltgularity, radiating bitters across shame and time.
On a lighter note, please give Sean a break while he’s using the urinal. It may be customary in Australia to film guys while they’re pissing, but Sean is not used to it.
It sounds like everyone had a great time in Melbourne regardless and I’m happy about that. We tried to put on our free meetup best we could under the circumstances. I’d like to thank James Morgan for making that possible! I wish I could have been there. It would have taken only one or two different decisions. Actually it would have taken only one decisions, ride ass. Ride ass all day every day, and never stop. That is the lesson.
Thumbnail of failure by satellite by Cliff Campbell.
