FOAM LAKE, Sask. — Long hours in farm equipment and trucks afford farmers a lot of time to think.
Dickson Delorme uses that time to plan videos.
In just a few years the videos based on his rural background and daily life have become immensely popular, as they poke fun at stereotypes and often lambaste politicians.
In some, he swears — a lot — while others are geared to kids. They promote causes, such as the Terry Fox Run, farm safety and the need to check in on one’s own mental health.
Quick Dick McDick will always make viewers think.
“I always create my content for this community and I never think outside that,” Delorme said of the YouTube videos that feature typical farm scenarios and sometimes his dad, also known as Big Mustache Al.
Since QDM appeared, first on Snapchat and then YouTube, he has become Delorme’s more famous alter-ego. The QDM channel has more than 72,200 subscribers.
He said QDM is a spicier version of Dickson Delorme: “Me, with extra barbecue sauce.”
Delorme was born in Maple Creek, Sask., when his dad was working on the former Prairie Farm Rehabilitation Administration, or PFRA, pasture at Consul. The family moved to the pasture near Foam Lake when he was four years old.
“I lived the best life possible,” he said as the middle child of three boys who could rope and ride and roam the pasture.
At 13, he got his first summer job working for a local farmer, and he spent a few teenage summers on a custom haying crew.
An honours student, Delorme graduated early and, given what he does now, it would seem logical he would go to school or pursue something agricultural.
Instead, he went to Brooks, Alta., for an oilfield job.
“That opened a whole new perspective for me,” he said, comparing it to life on the community pasture. “I was intrigued and became intoxicated by it.”
He got his Class 1 licence and invested heavily in on-the-job learning.
On a whim, he said he took a new job in Grande Prairie, Alta.
“I fell in love with the territory, the flatland,” Delorme recalled. “It was so beautiful and there were such big things happening.”
He spent 16 years mainly in the transportation side of the oilfield business, buying his own truck and eventually moving into the office to co-ordinate logistics.
But one day it was just time to move on from an industry that he said was getting more and more beat up.
“I made a decision. I gave six months’ notice. And then I jumped on my motorcycle and drove across Canada,” he said.
The trip would eventually encompass more than just Canada. It covered 27,500 kilometres and included stops in Boston, Las Vegas, California and the Yukon, with some breaks in between.
One stop was at a family reunion in Maple Creek where he offered to help a cousin with silage because there wasn’t anyone else around to do the job.
“The relief on his face,” Delorme recalled. “And I just kind of woke up and remembered how much I loved and enjoyed it.”
At another stop back home, he ran into Mark Rogers, who farms with his wife, Wendy, and kids, Rhett and Emery, at the Bar R Ranch near Foam Lake.
“I helped him move some cows and that was it,” Delorme said.
It was 2019, pre-pandemic, and Delorme had an on-farm job.
His plan is to buy more than the half-section of land he currently owns and to establish his own cattle herd.
“I’m trying to have some patience,” he said.
In the meantime, he works for the Rogers family and has time to think about his videos.
Quick Dick McDick was born during the motorcycle trip. Delorme wanted to get off social media but his brothers suggested he use Snapchat so they would know he was all right.
“The point was not to be addicted to my phone,” he said, recognizing that now seems impossible.
He wanted a username that no one could find and came up with the play on his own first name.
But QDM really took off after he shot a video of his dad cutting firewood, wearing a Bumper-to-Bumper cap, using an old woody, single-cab truck with a floor full of tools and beer cans..
“I thought, ‘This is hilarious’ and I just found myself in a moment thinking it would be funny,” he said.
He sent video to family in 10-second Snapchat increments and before long hilarity ensued. With their encouragement he pursued longer videos and posted them to a wider audience.
In the time since, QDM, along with his trademark beard, has grown substantially.
He said the QDM videos have evolved as he recognized how many people were watching and his responsibility to address serious subjects. He hopes urban people watch them to better understand how reliant they are on oil and gas, farming and the relationship with their rural counterparts.
He has taken flack for some of the content, but he posts warnings so parents and teachers can make decisions about showing them.
Not all his viewers are happy that he has toned them down.
“I’ve been called out. That I’ve changed. That I used to be politically polarizing and now I’m not,” he said.
At the same time he has taken flak for being too right-wing and perpetuating the rural voter stereotype. He recommends people chill out a bit.
“I’m not some kind of a far-out jackwagon nut.”
He sells QDM merchandise and donates proceeds to causes such as the local health foundation, children’s’ sports and the Jim Pattison Children’s Hospital. His products are Canadian made and shipped from the small-town Tuffnell, Sask., post office. Tuffnell also figures prominently in some of the videos.
“There are Tuffnells all over the world,” he pointed out. “I don’t want to lose them.”
In time, he said the lustre of QDM will wear off but he will keep uploading video as long as he has something to say.
“It’s perfectly fine to be just who I am,” he said. “It’s my own mental health escape our here. You can sit there and be miserable or pull out your phone and make a video.”
