To make a grave error in word or deed resulting in a catastrophe for another(s) for which the perpetrator(s) of the word or deed show little remorse
R and H are hitting golf balls on a driving range at an elite golf club. The trajectory of the balls being hit parallels a popular tourist walkway that hugs a scenic section of coast line. R tees up a ball and unleashes a horrific and massive swing that produces a colossal hook bending the ball to the extreme left and missleing its way directly at a group of foreign, camera-toting tourist trudgeling along on the walkway. The golf ball finds home smack in the heart of the tourists and ricochets off of one the unsuspecting tourist’s head causing him to stand stiff upright, recite a portion of his nation’s anthem and then collapse completely and totally to the ground. The ball finds purchase in a 12-gallon boiling-hot espresso-to-go ‘cup’ held by an elderly man causing the hot ‘joe’ to be sprayed all over the other visitors who begin to express their shock and outrage through an impromptu interpretive dance based loosely upon the opening scenes of 2001: A Space Odyssey. R and H look on at the show on the walkway quite detached as though watching a mildly amusing 70’s sit-com to which H offers up, “Boy, did you really spank the badger on that one!” They both chuckle at the tourists’ expense and tee another one up.
to punctuate desperation in order to change a circumstance
Attending a tedious cocktail party from which Billy D finds himself pinned in a conversation from which there is no relief. Standing there, minute after minute, taking it all in and wanting nothing more that to be home in bed; he feels his stomach turn and tighten, cold and sweat outline him, he wants out; his Gucci suit minimizes. His scalp itches and hots up suffocating under the conversation and the people. Suddenly, a well-groomed accountant next to him barks out, "Current data from my data extrapolated to further the outcomes on the Harrington Report confirms a speculation that the market trend should ..." At that point, Billy D. has his Dickens’ moment; his steamed brain snaps. A growling hum exits his thorax inexplicably. The accountant eyes him -- a dik dik to an approaching lion. Billy D. holds the accountant’s eyes way too long in primeval contact. He raises his eyebrows up and down as the masturbator in Dostoyevsky’s famous novel . He wanted the floor; he wanted to express something real; now he had the floor and total control; they were fixated. Then he let go the phrase that would end his tenure at the conversation hell-school of life and liberate him from their hold now and forever. He gave it up, loud and proud in rainbow fashion, "Well, spank my butt and call me Nancy." And that was it. It was all over. Their grip on him came crashing down. What he was in others' eyes now permitted him to leave the group without question or guilt forever it would be different.
the factor of difficulty by which a task is completed.
Example 1: 'I ordered my plane ticket online without a problem. The dickage factor was really low.
Example 2: When I was traveling in country X, I needed to buy a train ticket. It took me 3 hours and almost cost me my life to go 2 km to get to the station. First I got a cab, but the driver apon just entering the flood of traffic clipped a horse-drawn cart;he got out and began a high-intensity verbal assalt on the conductor of the cart. So I started to walk to the station. The temperature started rising to meltdown levels. I walked to the side of road and my shoe was torn off by a partially open sewer hole.One shoe on and one off I flagged a cyclo (bike-powered taxi). I hopped over and got in it. After 10 minutes of break-neck peddling and hair raising riding i concluded that the cyclo driver was clinically insane or completely intoxicated or both as he swerved in and out of traffic and down the wrong way of several one way streets. As we rounded a hairpin narrow passage, I noticed that a bicycle wheel was rolling passed us. Funny that. Where could it have come from? A second later, our cyclo was airborne and sparks were flying off the axel and the tarmack from where our wheel had once been. Fortunately I hit the ground doing a pencil-stlye roll and didn't stop till my body wrapped around a U-turn sign. Now both shoes were gone. Before I moved, i did a quick inventory of my senses and body, a trick I do in morning yoga. Slowly, I made a stand feeling for my travel wallet unconsiously; it was there. Over the dust, pollution, motorbikes, cars, cows, and sundogs, I saw the train station. I looked left and right. Not Clear. I did this for 20 minutes with the same result. Finally, I saw a man cleaning car windows on the streets amongst the traffic. He darted in and around like a humming bird on Red Bull. As he drew near, I knew he was my safe vessel, my ticket to the other side and the train station. As we whipped by I jumped in behind him and mirrored his every move through the traffic. Within a minute, I was a meter away from the safe haven of the 'sidewalk.' Then, he turned and went back out into the center traffic. Within a nano-second, I decided to dart right and to the sidewalk on my own. I looked hard into the on-coming traffic, bent my torso and chest aft as a pick-up truck carrying scrap metal almost lopped off my head. in doing so, I put myself in harms way from the rear and a screamming head and horm from behind got me to bolt upright immediately. I paniced and sprinted to the sidewalk stepping on a broken bottle on the way. I tied off the bleeding cut and limped to the station. As I entered, I saw a line that was 50 people deep in front of the window selling tickets. I stood there three hours before gettting to the window. I told the seller I needed two tickets to K. He promptly stamped and wrote on a pair of tickets; I paid him and left. Apon arriving back to the hotel, I was asked how hard was it to get tickets to K. I responed with, "buying the tickets at the station was OK, but THE DICKAGE FACTOR of getting to the station was high--the dickage factor was through the roof."
To be in a combined mental state of tired and wired.
I see my colleague in the elevator on the way to the meeting room. I ask him how he is doing. He says, "I have been up all night to prepare this presentation for the board. I've been working on it non-stop for three days. I've been drinking coffees like a bandit to stay awake. I'm so toasted. I'm so wired, too. Man. Hell, I''m twired.