Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 4

Magicians’s pants

I was reading aloud to my students when we came upon the word “comeuppance.”

“Who knows what comeuppance means?” I asked.

There was silence for a few moments, and then one student said, “Is it the way magicians pull up their pants?”

It took me a second to figure out what she meant.

Then I knew:

Comeuppance
Come up, pants.

Kids are the best.

Insecure, pathetic, stupid men

This is an absolute truth:

Any man who “doesn’t like female comics,” or harasses female comics online, or threatens the physical safety of female comics is undoubtedly, absolutely, unequivocally a fragile, pathetic loser.

Sadly, there are a lot of them. And it makes no sense to me.

Are these men so insecure that they can’t stand watching a funny woman make people laughl?

Yes. Apparently, they are.

Even more bizarre:

Can’t these losers see how pathetic, weak, and sad they appear when they engage in attacks on female comics?

No. They apparently cannot.

It’s so weird. What kind of loser and do-nothing moron spends his precious time firing off insults and threats at female comics on social media and in the comment sections of YouTube and similar platforms?

Does it make these men feel good?
Do they think it makes them look tough?
Do they feel proud about themselves after firing off an insult or making a threat?
Does their hatred for funny women make them feel like big boys?

Are these thin-skinned losers incapable of seeing how their attacks on these women make them look like something that has just crawled out from under a rock?

I guess not.

Either way, if you’re looking to identify fragile, pathetic losers in this world — perhaps for a scientific study on the effects of fragile egos and overwhelming insecurity on a man’s ability to act like a man or get a date — look no further than this pathetic subset of men.

Sadly, you’ll have lots of subjects from which to choose.

The Gloaming

As you probably know, I write the humor column in Seasons magazine.

This latest edition — Autumn 2025 — features a story about one of my less-than-ideal parenting moments saved by Mother Nature.

You can read it here. 

Unexpected in Montreal

A comic book spotted at a street fair in Quebec City:

Croc was a French-language humor magazine published monthly in Montreal, Quebec, Canada, from 1979 until 1995

Subtitle of this issue:
Ou s’en va la sexualite

Translation:
Where is sexuality going?

Clara’s comment:
“This was unexpected.”

I agree.

Rue Forget

I live on Francis Drive, which is perpendicular to Francis Avenue, which is boring and dumb.

Also, it can be occasionally confusing for delivery people and even friends.

My dream was to have my street name changed to Thunder Road, but I suspect that might be harder than I think. Even if I convinced town officials, I’d probably need to convince the dozen or so homeowners on the street, some of whom have lived here for more than 50 years.

Thunder Road would be amazing, but I might be the only one who thinks this way.

While in Canada, I found myself standing under Rue Forget, which isn’t close to Thunder Road, but it isn’t bad, either.

Customer service representative: Sir, what street do you live on?

Me: Forget.

Customer service representative: You forget?”

Me: Yes. Forget.

Customer service representative: Huh?

The real luxuries

One of my students asked me why I don’t live in a mansion.

“You write books. You tell stories in big places. You’re famous on YouTube and TikTok. You have a Wikipedia page. Why do you still live in a normal house?

I had to explain to my student that publishing books and performing on stages are profitable endeavors. Even social media can make you money. But I have yet to reach mansion-level success.

“Also,” I said, “I don’t want a mansion.”

A kitchen and second-floor bathroom remodel would be great, but our home is just fine.

“Why don’t you want a mansion?” my student asked. “And drive something better than a stupid minivan?”

I explained to my student that it’s not the cars, homes, jewelry, and other physical manifestations of wealth that matter.

At least not to me. And it shouldn’t matter much to anyone, though some dummies think these things are most important.

“Then what?” she asked.

So I made a list of what I consider to be the real luxuries of life:

Time
Choice
Health
The ability to travel
The ability to be physically active
Quality sleep
Friendship
The people I love
The people who love me

She looked at my list and said, “I still think you should put a mansion on your list.”

She’s young. She’ll learn, I hope.

I’ve arrived in Taiwan

Behold!

The Taiwanese version of “Someday Is Today.” Available in stores in Taiwan soon.

I’m keenly aware of the threats China has been making for years about its territorial claims over Taiwan.

I believe that Taiwan should remain an independent and democratic country, free from the threat of Chinese influence and aggression. Taiwanese sovereignty should not be questioned.

Now I have a book on the shelves of the Taiwanese bookstores.

All the more reason to want peace in the region.

Sales are at their highest when artillery is not raining down upon bookstores.

Your energy is expensive

Taylor Swift said:

“Think of your energy as if it’s expensive. As if it’s a luxury item. Not everyone can afford it. Not everyone has invested in you in order to have the capital for you to care about this. Because what you spend your energy on… that’s the day.”

Swift is advising us to avoid spending our energy in places that don’t deserve it, and boy, do I love this idea.

Specifically, she’s referencing people who spend time on social media, see a negative comment, and spiral into a negative mood for the rest of the day.

That is an example of giving over your energy to people who shouldn’t be able to afford it.

How you spend your energy is how you live your day and your life. Ask yourself how you spend your energy and whether it brings you happiness.

I watch people spend a lot of energy on things that mean nothing and often steal any chance at happiness.

Swift is right and wise and spot-on,

I’ll add one more thing:

Not everyone has the same amount of energy in their tank. I’ve come to understand that I may have more energy than most, and people should not be judged or besmirched for having less.

But for those of us with greater stores of energy, we can afford to spend it by doing more things.

But if you have less energy — which is perfectly normal — you need to be even more deliberate and thoughtful about how it’s spent. You may need to be more focused than someone like me. While I’m always looking to add to my life and expand my boundaries into new, uncharted territory, people with less energy might need to maintain stricter boundaries on how their energy is spent.

Do fewer things exceedingly well. Prevent others from pushing you beyond your capacity.

Either way is fine, of course, as long as you think of your energy as a valuable, finite resource and treat it accordingly.

Taylor Swift is right. As she often is.

“Great question” is not so great.

You’re being interviewed on a panel, podcast, or radio show, and you get asked a question.

I do quite a bit of this kind of thing. Lots of podcasts, fireside chats, panels, radio interviews, and the like.

So often, I hear the interviewee begin their answer by saying, “Great question.”

Sometimes every answer begins with, “Great question.”

My suggestion:

Please stop it. These are wasted words. Often said more than once during an interview.

The fact that the question is good or great is irrelevant. The audience is not interested in or invested in the quality of the question or your evaluation of it. It almost never enhances the interview in any way.

Often, it feels disingenuous — a blatant attempt to curry favor with the questioner.

Yes, it provides the interviewer with positive reinforcement, but that is not needed, wanted, or required.

Just offer an honest, insightful, entertaining, informative, inspiring, and possibly amusing answer.

That is your job.

No one wants or needs you to rate the quality of the question being asked.

The interview does not need to receive on-the-spot feedback.

The audience never wants wasted words.

“Good question” is almost always wasted words.

My suggestion:

Stop it. It’s annoying.

 

Like father, like son

About 40 years ago, I learned to tie a necktie while watching Good Morning America. A man was showing viewers how to tie a Windsor knot. I was a Boy Scout at the time and was constantly tying knots, so I grabbed the one necktie I owned and followed along.

It felt like learning to tie a sheet bend, bowline, or clove hitch.

Just another knot to be learned.

And that was it. A random man on a morning show taught me how to tie a necktie, and I’ve known ever since.

I almost never wear a necktie these days, because they are stupid, purposeless adornments — meaningless vestiges of an ancient time that are both uncomfortable and silly.

And sometimes, they are used as a ridiculous symbol of wealth for people who lack self-esteem and compensate by draping themselves in blatantly expensive stuff so others can presumably think better of them.

I recently witnessed two men comparing expensive watches. They looked like two sad jellyfish, quivering and uncertain, trying to grow a spine via their gold and diamond-encrusted timepieces.

“Look at me! Look at me!” I could hear them silently shout to a disinterested universe. “I bought this expensive thing, so I can’t be all bad! Please think more highly of me than I think about myself! Pretty please?”

Are these people incapable of seeing how sad they look when showing off their glittery wares?

Anyway, last weekend, we attended a bat mitzvah in New Jersey. When Charlie entered our hotel room, he was dressed for the party, including a perfectly tied necktie.

I was shocked. “Who taught you how to tie a tie?” I asked.

“YouTube,” Charlie said. “It took a while.”

I was saddened for a moment, thinking I should’ve been the one to teach him this skill, but then I remembered:

I learned by watching Good Morning America.

Four decades later, my son did essentially the same thing.

My sadness was gone.

Like father, like son.