“Newsflash – Dick Jones Soils Self!”

Peggy and myself live in what is now considered an “older house” – circa 1996, to be exact. Those of you readers who are unlucky enough to OWN your own home know that it truly IS “one thing after another”.

In our case, it seems that over the last 6 months, one circuit breaker after another has seen fit to fail, resulting in my calling my trusty electrician to stop by and replace the respective “Non-USA Made” circuit breaker with a new “Non-USA Made” circuit breaker (insert growl here).

Two months ago it was the air conditioning breaker, which of COURSE failed when it was ~152 degrees here! Before that, it was the pool sub-panel breaker, before that, the garage door opener breaker (Now THAT was fun – ever try to pick up a two-car garage door by yourownself?).

Two days ago, the Dryer circuit breaker cooked itself – I opened the electrical box to see ~6 inches of wire just plain FRIED! So I calls my electrician – he’s sitting in the hospital bed after having a heart attack. Doesn’t know if/when he’s getting out – no offense to Jim, but he’s ~40 pounds overweight, and I have NEVER seen him w/out a Marlboro dangling from his maw, except when he removes it to take a hit of whiskey from his everpresent flask. But hey – he’s cheap!

So after hauling all our clothes to the “local” (read: 20 minutes away) laundromat yesterday, and meeting MANY “interrresting people” – one of whom had fresh stitch marks on each side of his upper forehead – think the last scene from “One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest” – I resolved to “fix it myself”…

O.K. – a trip in The Wayback Machine is in order here, specifically to 1961. Five year old Dick Jones got the genius idea to stick a fork in an electrical outlet, ’cause that’s what ALL mildly-retarded five year olds DO!

I remember my Dad sitting at the breakfast table ‘long about the time this was happening, Marlboro dangling from HIS lips, removing it only to take a long draw off that jigger of AM gin that was his daily jump-start. Did the son-of-a-biscuit-eater STOP me? Fuck NO – ’cause that’s how kids got their learn on back in the day; you learned from BITTER experience, and MAY-BE you lived through it!

After I did a one and a half gainer, cascading gracefully over my parked tricycle and rug-burning my face on my one-point faceplant, Dear Old Dad replied – “Hurts, don’t it? I’m guessing that you won’t be needing to do THAT again, eh Sonny-Jim?”

Ever since that day, Dick Jones has steered WELL CLEAR of the electrical box in any & all domiciles he has resided within. Shit – I don’t even like to plug in the fuckin’ vacuum cleaner, f’er Chrissakes!

Throw in an incident back in ~1969, when my best friend and I watched ball lightning come down the exposed pipe in his kitchen during a thunderstorm, go across the linoleum, and leave a black streak across the carpeting on its way out ‘da d’oh ya’ know peoples; suffice it to say, I have a healthy abject FEAR of electricity!

Hence my dilemma – try to fix the burnt out clothes dryer breaker myownself for $8.88 – the price of the Made In Mexico replacement breaker, or call an unknown electrician and get bent over for a $150 service call? Dick Jones put on his big boy pants and drove down to the Lowe’s…

Now, I’m ALREADY half-pissing myself just OPENING the freakin’ DOOR to the outlet box. I fumble with the screwdriver and take off the surround panel, like I’ve watched Big Jim do a half dozen times – revealing the snake’s nest that IS the inner bowels of Quick Death Central. I spy the errant breaker – a two-pole, 30 Amp switch. I pry it out with a big screwdriver, being fastidiously careful to NOT touch ANYTHING made of metal; to be safe, I jump up in the air while doing this, so I’m not “grounded” – hey, I had Sixth Grade Science!

Box pops free, leaving two menacing prongs in its wake. Now I KNOW there’s approximately 1 MILLION Kill-A-Jones contained in those two prongs; I glare back at them, trying to scare them into submission – they remain nonplussed.

I carefully unscrew both wires from the hanging breaker switch – success without pissing! I glance at my watch – 9:30AM – time for a shot of single malt! O.K. – break time over; now I gots to scrape all that charred plastic insulation away from the “Hot” wire, being careful not to touch the black wire too, and thus completing the bubillion volt circuit through my trembling body.

This proves to take longer than I can stay “jumped up in the air” while doing, so I’m REALLY rolling the dice NOW! Wire cleaned, I cut ~3″ away from it, shorten the black wire accordingly, and strip 3/4″ away from each, leaving the exposed copper wires like cobra fangs waiting to strike! I begin the potentially FATAL process of screwing the leads into their respective places on the new breaker switch, shaking & twitching like a June bug the whole time – felt like I was milking a rattlesnake, I did!

Another small accomplishment, but now I’m faced with another quandary – the wires are now too short to put the new breaker assembly back where it was – Fuck ME! Why did Big Jim hafta go and have hisself a heart attack I wanna know?

So I pry out the double breaker labeled “Pool Sub-Assembly”, as well as the one marked A/C. I struggle to rearrange the snake’s nest of wires, then push on the first breaker onto its new home on the awaiting snake fang prongs. One down!

I do likewise w/the AC breaker; my sphincter loosens, ’cause it’s marked 50 FUCKIN’ AMPS; that’s more than 30, ain’t it?

Now to cram that last breaker in place – I try to control my quivering hands as I inch the last breaker box into place; as I push it onto the last two Fangs O’ Death, it sparks at me – GEEZFUCKIN’CHRIS! Being the slack-jawed MORON that I AM, I had neglected to flip the two-pole breaker switch to the “Off” position…

After a quick visit to the clothes hamper to deposit my shite & piss filled britches into the appropriate bin, cleansing my nether regions, and putting on fresh Depends and shorts, I go square off against my adversary once again, this time flipping the breaker to “Off”. Success!

I button everything up and go back inside, do a load of shite-stained laundry, then try out my now-working clothes dryer – Dick E. Jones, Supa-Genius!



Dick Jones’ Answer To The Artificial Intelligence Quandary

Now, let’s all agree right here, right now – Elon Musk is one smart MO-FO! He’s certainly a lot smarter than Dick Jones in most ways, although I’m told that he can NOT eat a bushel of apples and then shit a fruit salad, which Dick Jones is rumored to have done.

However, I took his recent comments regarding computers/machines/artificial intelligence to heart:


My Sony VAIO personal computing machine has been pretty uppity with me lately – “reporting for duty” when it wants to, going to sleep when it wants to, not responding to my requests, insisting on software upgrades; you know the drill, right? Well, under advice from my close personal advisor, a Mssr. Jacques Daniels specifically, I let Mr. Sony Artificial Intelligence Pushy Mother Fucker know who The Boss is around h’eah:

SONY_resizeLet that be a warning to his replacement, Mr. Lenovo – I’ll fuck YOU up with the very same fire ax I used on Mr. Sony, the VERY first time you look at me OR my pal Jackie D. crooked!

“Diet & Exercise” – Fuck YOU!

I don’t know WHAT a person above the age of 55 has to do to “actually” LOSE weight, but whatever it IS, I ain’t doin’ it; at least not as fast as I would LIKE to be doin’ it! Now I know why there’s so many fat fuckin’ pie-wagons my age walking the Earth – ’cause they just fuckin’ give UP!

I tried to do ONE “man pushup” yesterday after working up to 24 “girl pushups”(knees on floor) per day within a three week progression – collapsed flat on my face!

Insult to injury – my recumbent exercise bike that I have been riding 5 days/week – 50 minutes/day for the last three weeks decided to do a “pile on” on top of my aborted pushup, and the “Random Course” that I selected seemed more like “The Swiss Alp Climb” – served up from the bowels of the machine, straight to my legs & lungs.

Four “Everest Mountains” (maximum resistance for 30 seconds), with “close to Everest” hills on each side of ’em. Pulse rate got up to 143, felt dizzy, heart felt like it was going to burst from its cage out onto the Stainmaster Carpet – but Jones said “FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKIN’ FUCK!” and pressed on, leaving it on Level 13 through the entire 50 minute ride. I believe that I soiled my britches just a bit after the 4th Everest; didn’t look though – just threw my u-trou in the washing machine straightaway upon ride completion. Some things are better off not known…

Diet-wise, DJ has been subsisting on three 150 calorie/serving protein drinks each day, along with two 40 calorie/cake rice cakes (read: congealed CARDBOARD), followed by a salad for dinner. That’s right, fair readers – NO meat; despite my continual self-query as to why EXACTLY my ancestors clawed their way to the top of the dinosaur-killing & eating food chain to find ME eating THIS shite!

I succumbed to temptation last night when Peggy waved a juicy patty melt in front of my salivating maw – got on the scales this morning to be greeted with a whopping FIVE pound weight loss for my three weeks of working out like a fiend and eating like a sparrow!

And Dick Jones is doing this WHY?! So he’s the oldest, fittest dude in the Nursing Home – with the leg strength to lift HIMSELF up when the orderly shoves that bedpan under his narrah’ white ass! Fuck THIS – Domino’s delivers!

ScreenHunter_321 Sep. 17 08.09

The Jack Boot Squad At Work!

When is this shit gonna STOP?!


Time after time we see these muscle-headed MORONS abusing their power & authority – GeezFuckin’Chris!

Here’s a tip from old Dick Jones, Boys – get off the needle! One testosterone shot per month is PLENTY to keep you “in the game” there in the police locker room, so you continue to look like RoboCop; once a week is too much!

Is Dick Jones the ONLY swingin’ dick that’s noticed how ginormous Law Enforcement Officers have gotten over the last ten years? Whatever happened to Andy Griffith & Barney Fife I wanna know? These guys are CLEARLY shooting up with anabolic steroids and testosterone, with the resultant hyperaggressive tendencies that that ALWAYS produces…

And just WHERE in the Blue Fuck are the Police Chiefs and Commissioners, DJ wants to know? STOP this SHIT not NOW but RIGHT NOW! Is it not ABUNDANTLY MOTHER-FUCKING CLEAR that, in addition to the SENSELESS loss of life that has happened HOW MANY TIMES in the last few years, the ensuing lawsuits are gonna CRIPPLE police departments all over the country – D’UH!

Domino Effect: More speeding tickets and other driving infractions doled out at a geometric rate – “Low Hanging Fruit” for The Jack Boot Squad…

Dick Jones quotes Paul Newman as Butch Cassidy in “Butch Cassidy And The Sundance Kid”: “Boy I got vision and the rest of the world wears bifocals”:


Here’s Hoping…

…that this shameless, half-a-piece-of-shit, pussy-ass suffers from a long and drawn out business failure:


Reminder to those of you who live in Minneapolis: Check that phone book – there’s more than one dentist in your fine city!

No need for violence – show this gutless Son Of A Bitch how we all feel about him with your checkbook!


Richard Jones has been a long time Esquire magazine fan – going back to the ’70’s, when most of you mooks were riding around on your Marx “Big Wheels”, and sticking wads of gum to the underside of your desktops.

But I must confess – Esquire magazine has gone to SHIT over the last few years; to wit:


Yeah, you GOTTA read it – like a fuckin’ car wreck on the highway, you KNOW you should avert your eyes, but you CAN’T! WISH you could; CAN’T. Wish I DID; DIDN’T!

Now Dick Jones is firmly in the camp that WHATEVER two consenting adults want to do to/with each other is fair game; doesn’t mean that *I* wanna KNOW about it/SEE it!

What’s next, Esquire – two mules fucking?



Oh, you’re gonna love THIS one, Boys & Girls:


Now, Dick Jones is willing to give this guy the benefit of the doubt, as in: “Already BEING a politician, you are required BY LAW to have an incredible ego and live in your own bizarre, convoluted rabbit hole of self-denial and perpetual Kubla Khan Dreamland existence”.

Otherwise, you have a serious crack cocaine habit; either way, Dick Jones holds THIS truth to be self-evident: That blow to the head did a whole lot more than put a permanent shine on that pate of yours…

As USUAL, it’s shaping up to be yet another “None of the above” choice for President here in Dick Jones-land. Geez – find ANY dog-catcher off the street; he/she will make a better President!