Wednesday, February 25

Big man, little monkey

As promised I decided I will finally address the ongoing mudslinging anti-Dicky campaign being waged over at Miss Twit Psychos. Not since Karl Rove... I mean George H Bush creamed Dukakis with the Willie Horton/tank helmet thing has this kinda dirty pool been played at such a high level. Not only has he linked me to porn distribution, sobbing, rule breaking, possible performance enhancing drug use, he has also resorted to calling me assface.

This is obviously sour grapes in full effect. Pete-uh was so disheartened when I didn't sign with Missed Wit over the winter that he didn't get outta bed for two months. He blamed the lateness of his new Nummers frames on slow boats from Taiwan, but in fact he was trapped in his bedroom by his inability to move. It seems that storing his blizzard emergency supply of Cheetos in his bedroom, to close at hand in this case, sent him into a downward spiral of feasting, sleeping, crying, and watching Benny Hill marathons.

Apparently with the help of Dick Gregory Pete-uh is functioning again, and at least able to sit up and use his over sized keyboard to electronically fill orders while neighborhood children pack orders and clean Cheetos dust off his man boobs.

Pete-uh is glad to have little Enrique back at his job of cleaning the fat finger compatible keyboard. He had been missing since February 2nd, and apparently he was trapped between two large folds of skin in Pete-uh's left arm and eating Cheetos dust to stay alive.

It's a sad day when an obese man trapped in his bedroom staring out the window at the winter wonderland that is the Court of Dingle feels compelled to try to make everybody as miserable as he is. Mike McCormack, being the benevolent race promoter that he is, did not chastise Pete-uh for his delusional email rants, but instead encouraged the poor, fat man to get back to living his life, lose a few hundred pounds, and come out to Breckenridge and settle this like men... well at least a man and another man wearing a loose fitting flesh suit.

Genitals blurred in order to keep Pete-uh from being any more embarrassed than he already is about his abnormally shaped penis.

So hopefully Pete-uh will see that his anger is his problem and not mine. Maybe he can walk away from the Cheetos and have the local children cover for him for a week so he can come and "race" the Breck Epic with me and all the people who chose to go to the right stage race this summer. I think the fresh air will do him some good, and perhaps all his Canadianican ill will towards us folks in the tropical zone known as 'Merica will melt away as easily as those unwanted extra pounds (after his gastric bypass surgery).

We're all pulling for you Pete-uh, you fat, angry man.


Anonymous said...

Dicky, that's just gross..... and the thought of you googling for just the right pete-uh picture is even grosser.

I guess that's just the kind of mental training it takes to stay on top. I wish I was as strong as you but some days I'm kinda glad I'm not.

Anonymous said...

Wow. I am fairly new TD follower and thought the banter between you and pete-uh was in a non-I-hope-you-die-of-a-rare-flesh-eating-bacteria spirit, guess I was wrong.

dicky said...

Anon #2,

I love Pete-uh in a very brotherly, non-Harvey Milk kinda way.

He could use the help of some discriminate flesh eating bacteria at the moment though.

Peter Keiller said...

i'm not sorry.

but Anon #2, you are correct, i mistook my high-brow wit and his sloth-like grunts to free of ill-will and the like.
i too was wrong.

and it hurts.
join me on the happy - wish you not a fleshy death - side and REMEMBER: VOTE FOR TOMI!!!


Sandblogger said...

Unfortunately my donations to Pete'uh for the official Matt Juth muslinging campaign ended up in his stomach rather than than pasted as eloquent anti-dicky slogans over ther interwebs. I need to pick a new black ops guy now. Sorry Pete'uh...