Predator Press
[LOBO]
Let me get this straight.
For a few bucks, you can name your own star?
Does this mean that in 2090 we are going to be fiercely embroiled in a galactic war against creatures from 'Steve Loves Amanda XXXOOOXXX'?
First of all, how would you write catchy graffiti like, "Take that, creatures from Steve Loves Amanda XXXOOOXXX!!!" on the bombs? And you know how military spending goes: every single one of those "X"s and "O"s will be like a billion dollars.
Let's leave the naming space stuff to guys like Steve Hawking. One look at the guy, and you know he's a big Dungeon and Dragons head: we'll have cool places to have wars with like The Great Ogre Vortex and The Giant Leech galaxies.
Well, if everyone else is going to get a star, here's the name of mine:
LAST CHANCE FOR GAS. PERIOD.
I like the idea of some lost space jerk desperately looking through some equally spacey Encylopedia Bricktabula for whatever the Hell "GAS" is.
Sunday
Matt Drudge
Predator Press
[LOBO]
Matt, our self-proclaimed truth-seeking valiant knight of the "Free-Press", has just spent ten minutes assailing the Space Program for collecting comet dust in pursuit of ... uh ... The Truth?
Just when did these frenetic little faux-intellectual ferrets become listened to by the mainstream?
... Oops ... after checking the shows timeslot and ratings, I withdraw the question.
I'm not going to argue that our Space Program funding shouldn't reflect on whatever current state of affairs our country finds itself in --shit all these wars alone probably cost our government like fifty or sixty bucks a month. But giving up the study of Astronomy would be analogous to giving up on Biology.
Further, giving all these mad scientists something to do besides making bigger and better bombs is a good thing. Tell those geeks to put a remote-controlled solid gold life-sized Barbie Corvette on Alpha Centauri ...
... for Science ....
[LOBO]
Matt, our self-proclaimed truth-seeking valiant knight of the "Free-Press", has just spent ten minutes assailing the Space Program for collecting comet dust in pursuit of ... uh ... The Truth?
Just when did these frenetic little faux-intellectual ferrets become listened to by the mainstream?
... Oops ... after checking the shows timeslot and ratings, I withdraw the question.
I'm not going to argue that our Space Program funding shouldn't reflect on whatever current state of affairs our country finds itself in --shit all these wars alone probably cost our government like fifty or sixty bucks a month. But giving up the study of Astronomy would be analogous to giving up on Biology.
Further, giving all these mad scientists something to do besides making bigger and better bombs is a good thing. Tell those geeks to put a remote-controlled solid gold life-sized Barbie Corvette on Alpha Centauri ...
... for Science ....
Friday
"... 'Fer Almost Losin' Us the Big One ... "?
Predator Press
[LOBO]
What is this obsession we have with suffering, dysfunctional pre-pubescent British kids as represented in the Amer'Kan box office?
First we had Harry Potter(s). Then Lemony Snickers' "A Series of Unfortunate Hollywood Budget Surpluses". Now C.S. Lewis' "The Lion, the Pale Skinny Pissed Broad and the Rainbow" or whatever. Al Pacino would've saved them Narnia Chronicles people a lot of time, just smacking the bejeezus out of the witch with her Turkish Surprise pan.
"Jou are so POLLUTED!"
Roll credits.
Look, even though I detest hearing them butcher our fine Amer'Kan language in these big epic-battle toting Hollywood special effects catalogs, the Brits have given us a LOT: The Sex Pistols. Sean Connery. An intellectual inferiority complex ...
... Oooh! Struck a nerve there, eh? Those pricks sound smarter'n us! So we'll let Hollywood make us up fantasies about 'em getting smashed to bits as kids. It's therapeutic, after all: we can't wage war on 'em with all these brown people still around to have wars with ... now that would be crazy.
Still, I suggest the next new threat to the US should be the Ahmish. [Wait, hear me out!] Just what exactly are these people doing with all that butter? C'mon ... long beard, no mustache; it's not exactly a look that pulls down the ladies in droves. And what the hell kind of maniac would want more than one wife? Jesus, isn't one woman living in a perpetual state of disappointment in you enough?
So you've got these hundred million sexually confused and frustrated Ahmish teenagers lookin' for trouble. Growing mustaches. Next thing you know, they're skipping school and secretly churning margarine. Cutting the good stuff with "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter!", and putting it on unsuspecting people's muffins.
People's English muffins.
Following me here?
Yes folks, for the small price of, say, Utah we can once again be the conquerors we were destined to be. The world will be safe from the Weapons of Mass-Margarine, and we can go on clogging the arteries of the world with complete impunity, just as God intended.
[LOBO]
What is this obsession we have with suffering, dysfunctional pre-pubescent British kids as represented in the Amer'Kan box office?
First we had Harry Potter(s). Then Lemony Snickers' "A Series of Unfortunate Hollywood Budget Surpluses". Now C.S. Lewis' "The Lion, the Pale Skinny Pissed Broad and the Rainbow" or whatever. Al Pacino would've saved them Narnia Chronicles people a lot of time, just smacking the bejeezus out of the witch with her Turkish Surprise pan.
"Jou are so POLLUTED!"
Roll credits.
Look, even though I detest hearing them butcher our fine Amer'Kan language in these big epic-battle toting Hollywood special effects catalogs, the Brits have given us a LOT: The Sex Pistols. Sean Connery. An intellectual inferiority complex ...
... Oooh! Struck a nerve there, eh? Those pricks sound smarter'n us! So we'll let Hollywood make us up fantasies about 'em getting smashed to bits as kids. It's therapeutic, after all: we can't wage war on 'em with all these brown people still around to have wars with ... now that would be crazy.
Still, I suggest the next new threat to the US should be the Ahmish. [Wait, hear me out!] Just what exactly are these people doing with all that butter? C'mon ... long beard, no mustache; it's not exactly a look that pulls down the ladies in droves. And what the hell kind of maniac would want more than one wife? Jesus, isn't one woman living in a perpetual state of disappointment in you enough?
So you've got these hundred million sexually confused and frustrated Ahmish teenagers lookin' for trouble. Growing mustaches. Next thing you know, they're skipping school and secretly churning margarine. Cutting the good stuff with "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter!", and putting it on unsuspecting people's muffins.
People's English muffins.
Following me here?
Yes folks, for the small price of, say, Utah we can once again be the conquerors we were destined to be. The world will be safe from the Weapons of Mass-Margarine, and we can go on clogging the arteries of the world with complete impunity, just as God intended.
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