Dick Handsome: The Noise

 I wanted to post this earlier, preferably right after Dick Handsome: Paranormal Gynecologist vs. the Cannibal Crotch of Cancun was posted, but I haven't had internet access at home for a week now because...actually, I've no fucking clue why, the shit just stopped working. A tech goon is supposed to be showing up today to fix it. However, let it be said here and now that if I don't have internet access by the end of this night, I am firing up The Nightmare Engine (from your friends at The Simon Corporation) and heralding the end of all things.

Anyway, my bizarre need to post shit on the internet has been sated as it is Friday and there's nothing to do at work.

A Dick Handsome: Paranormal Gynecologist story has been written, with plans for more stories in the works, and I'm still trying to come to terms with the fact that I did this horrible, horrible thing. I feel this is me sinking to a new low personally.

Dick Handsome was accidentally created in my nightmare mind after reading a comment regarding another one of my bad ideas, SPACEDOOM: A Johnny Explosion Adventure. So this is like a bad idea giving birth to a worse idea. I actually documented the illogical string of thoughts that created this worse idea in an earlier journal post that I would link to here if I was a more considerate person, but I'm not.

When I originally came up with, and posted, the Dick Handsome idea. My intention was never to actually do anything with it. Even with my standards as low as they are, this was a line I had no intention of crossing. For a person who claims to love writing and take it seriously, I already fuck off enough with SPACEDOOM. I was not going to be the guy that actually writes a story about a guy named Dick Handsome investigating haunted vaginas.

Then Apple Inc. released an OS update to the iPhone and iPod Touch that allowed more applications to utilize the landscape orientation.

This is a strong leap in logic, so let me explain a bit. When I initially got my iPhone, I noticed one of the apps it comes packaged with (called "Notes", an app that lets you - wait for it - write notes) and thought might come in handy for writing stories and whatnot on-the-go. I could come up with a story and slowly work on it in my free time, without the need of a computer. I quickly realized that typing anything longer than a few sentences in the vertical orientation (which was the only option at the time) was a pain in the ass and I immediately dismissed the idea of using it as a word-composition device.

Then, just recently, this system update comes along and suddenly the idea is reconsidered. Now that I could turn the phone sideways and type comfortably, maybe I could use the iPhone as a writing tool.

Theoretically, it would work. But I still needed to test it out by actually writing a story on the phone. But since I would be composing a story in very unstable and experimental conditions, I felt that the story itself would have to be simple, short, and - in case this didn't work - disposable. A story idea I had no attachment to and never intended on actually pursuing...

Now, based on the facts I presented above, one could easily make the argument that the existence of Dick Handsome can be blamed on Mr. Steve Jobs.

Now I'm writing this story on my phone, viewing it as a disposable test run thing, and something terrible happens: I get into it. Suddenly, I'm putting thought into it, creating an alternate version of America's history injected with Lovecraftian elements and Cthulhu mythos while trying not to explicitly say "This is Cthulhu mythos". I'm coming up with ideas for other Dick Handsome stories and discussing the character with friends. I'm making in-story nods to Johnny Explosion.

I'm creating a character I'm starting to like.

Actually, by the time I'm nearing the end of the story, I'm finding myself regretting his name and occupation, wishing I had only taken the paranormal mysteries aspect of it. I'm conjuring up a paranormal/Lovecraftian Sherlock Holmes set in modern times. See? That's a good idea. Why didn't that come to me before the whole gynecology thing?

But what's done is done. Dick does provide me with countless fun fuckoff stories with ridiculous set-ups, and I do enjoy writing nonsense. I could always use the more serious idea later. I'll implant it into my brain/hatebox and see if it gestates into a good, usable premise.

As much as I surprisingly enjoyed creating this nonsense story, this is the first time I stopped mid-writing and asked myself, "What in the hell am I doing?". Despite my usual joy in taking a horrible idea and running with it, regardless of what horrible places it may take me; several times I found myself questioning whether or not I had crossed that line set by my already low set of standards and morality.

In the end, I don't think I did. That, or I did and I don't care. Either way, I enjoyed it, and I plan on writing more in the future.

After I finish SPACEDOOM: A Johnny Explosion Adventure.

And only on my free time of course. This shit will never take priority over real projects.


So I was planning on writing this last Tuesday, but my internet connection died because Comcast is dogshit. Then Dead Space came out Wednesday, and Dead Space takes higher priority than posting nonsense on MySpace. Then, trying to finally sit down and write it today, fucking Safari fucking crashed while I was fucking writing it. This fucking entry will be posted so help me god.

So a while ago, I posted the first chapter of my still-ongoing study of retarded-awesome verses common sense, SPACEDOOM: A Johnny Explosion Adventure. I've been handling SPACEDOOM the same way I handled Todbob: by throwing in whatever horrible idea comes to mind regardless of whether or not it actually works. Thus far, the only idea I've omitted from the story is Johnny's rocket-powered surfboard was originally going to be a horse-sized, flying, fire-breathing wienerdog. I am not making this up. Also, being the self-destructive little troll that I am, I get a sick pleasure out of obliterating what little artistic or literary credibility I may have established.

It's fun not having to try; not having to explain how a barbarian can also be a private investigator, or how this can exist in the near future. I don't worry about having to be descriptive in my writing for SPACEDOOM. I've yet to even say what Johnny looks like (although, being a barbarian detective, I always picture a muscle-bound, long-haired, barbarian stereotype wearing nothing but He-Man-style leather underwear and an old-skool detective fedora). I've also discovered that you don't actually have to describe the setting in a futuristic story so long as you put "neo" in front of everything.

Despite the fact that it's terrible, I enjoy writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it. Although I don't know how many people are actually reading it as the only feedback I've received regarding it is from America's love child: Randy Pease. But even if Randy is the only one reading it, that's okay 'cause Randy's my boy. Let the record show that the rest of you are ungrateful twats though.

I'm writing about SPACEDOOM because something happened while writing this that provided me with the perfect opportunity to describe the horrible thing that happens in my brain that I pass off as "the creative process".

Here's the scenario, I write all the SPACEDOOM chapters at work because 1: my job is that boring, and 2: the time restraints and distractions keep me from proofreading and putting too much thought into the story. If I actually put thought into SPACEDOOM, it wouldn't exist. Anyway, I had just posted the first chapter and went on with my job-related duties. Around the end of the day, before I was getting ready to go home, I decided to check my MySpace. There, I saw Randy (voted sexiest man by Spin Magazine in 2003) had posted the following comment:

I read this, signed out, and left work. The following is my line of thought that took place in the time it took me to get out of the office and to the bus stop:

-Hmmm. I had originally planned on SPACEDOOM being a one-time thing, but the idea of a prequel telling the retarded-awesome adventures of Johnny's barbarian forefathers may have some potential.
-But what would Grundig's story be? Obviously, a "barbarian + other profession" model is the format I would want to follow, but I shouldn't make Grundig something similar to a detective, because that would be too similar to Johnny.
-No, Grundig would have to have a profession the complete opposite of badass, something completely opposite of detective and unfitting of a barbarian, but he should still find a way to use his barbarian skills, thus resulting in awesome. Barbarian pastry chef? Barbarian meter-maid?
-Grundig: Barbarian Gynecologist! That's fucking terrible! I gotta run with this! He's an everyday gynecologist, but he keeps getting in bizarre, gynecology-related situations that require his barbarian know-how. Vagina's that are possessed by demons or some shit, which would make him a...
-PARANORMAL GYNECOLOGIST! How the fuck did I manage to get a woman to marry me? This is horrible, and potentially offensive to women everywhere!
-Okay, so I absolutely love the idea of a "paranormal gynecologist", but I think that barbarian paranormal gynecologist may be too much. Let's drop the Grundig part and focus on the paranormal gynecologist bit, this has to the potential to be it's own separate thing; I'll work on Grundig later.
-Okay, we've got a story about a paranormal gynecologist, taking care of ladies' junk and using his paranormal expertise to handle vagina-based cases of the supernatural. If you're a lady, and you have a vagina, and your vagina has some affliction that can't be explained by conventional science and medicine, you go to this guy. He's the best there is at what he does, and what he does is battle haunted vaginas.
-I am so disgusted with myself as a person right now.
-But who is this guy? He's gotta be tough-as-nails, he's an expert paranormal gynecologist; he's seen some shit.
-Since this whole thing has the potential to be horribly offensive, I should go ahead and go all out. This guy has to have an extremely sexist, pro-male name, something like...

Creating this image has to be the single most terrible thing I've ever done.

And thus, a horrible idea is created.

This is how my brain works. Now, I don't know if I'll ever write this story any time soon, if ever, so if anyone's interested, I've decided to donate this idea to you, the readers. If anyone want's to destroy their lives as much as me, feel free to write a Dick Handsome: Paranormal Gynecologist story. The setup is stupidly easy: chick has supernatural vaginal issues, and Dick Handsome is on the case, using his paranormal expertise and streetwise know-how to solve the problem and get the girl. There's a story right there in that horrible cover I created, it's so obvious it almost doesn't need writing.

If anyone is stupid enough to take this on, let me know and I'll offer the fullest extent of support, while letting you have as much creative freedom as you want. My only suggestion is that you use thick, noir-style narration (that's Sin City style narration to you thickies) for added hilarity, but that's optional. All I ask is for some minor credit, and if you get rich and famous for it, sending some cash my way would be cool.

If I have the time, I'll be posting more Dick Handsome: Paranormal Gynecologist ideas (along with horrible covers) up here and I may take a stab at writing one myself someday, but for some really bad reason, I'd like to see this become a community project with multiple authors in multiple mediums. Write a Dick Handsome story and get banned from, make a Dick Handsome comic and get banned from all cons, make a Dick Handsome short film and get banned from YouTube, the choice is yours!

If anyone's stupid enough to be interested, you can contact me at