What Ever Happened to Quicksand?
Predator Press
[LOBO]
Once again, Predator Press scienticians have stepped up, and -at no small expense to you- decided to settle the burning age-old question on everyone’s mind: What Ever Happened to Quicksand?
You remember ... One could barely get through a half an hour of television without some poor slob stumbling upon his buddy's safari hat laying mysteriously on the ground. Then he or she goes to pick it up, and the horror ensues -it’s quicksand!
I remember being taught about quicksand by no less than three teachers during the brief debacle of my adolescent education. They all conflicted with each other too. “Don’t struggle,” one said. “Lay flat and roll out,” said another. -Clearly even back then this enigmatic sedentary evil was barely understood. Of course, this was in the same day and age they taught us to curl up in a hallway in case of aerial bombings, and hide under our desks during nuclear blasts.
I hate to say it, but the Predator Press scienticians really let me down this time. All they did was gorge Dominoes pizza, play World of Warcraft, and work on their MySpace pages until "Enlarge Your Penis" SPAM beguiled them into downloading crippling viruses via porn.
Obviously the Great Mystery of Quicksand is beyond the feeble understanding of even the greatest minds of our time. Still, we here at Predator Press remain hopeful that perhaps one day Humanity will learn to communicate with this, the most misunderstood, secretive, and voracious of Nature’s killers.
But until then, we’re hoping you all will start wearing big, buoyant hats.
[LOBO]
Once again, Predator Press scienticians have stepped up, and -at no small expense to you- decided to settle the burning age-old question on everyone’s mind: What Ever Happened to Quicksand?
You remember ... One could barely get through a half an hour of television without some poor slob stumbling upon his buddy's safari hat laying mysteriously on the ground. Then he or she goes to pick it up, and the horror ensues -it’s quicksand!
I remember being taught about quicksand by no less than three teachers during the brief debacle of my adolescent education. They all conflicted with each other too. “Don’t struggle,” one said. “Lay flat and roll out,” said another. -Clearly even back then this enigmatic sedentary evil was barely understood. Of course, this was in the same day and age they taught us to curl up in a hallway in case of aerial bombings, and hide under our desks during nuclear blasts.
I hate to say it, but the Predator Press scienticians really let me down this time. All they did was gorge Dominoes pizza, play World of Warcraft, and work on their MySpace pages until "Enlarge Your Penis" SPAM beguiled them into downloading crippling viruses via porn.
Obviously the Great Mystery of Quicksand is beyond the feeble understanding of even the greatest minds of our time. Still, we here at Predator Press remain hopeful that perhaps one day Humanity will learn to communicate with this, the most misunderstood, secretive, and voracious of Nature’s killers.
But until then, we’re hoping you all will start wearing big, buoyant hats.
Comments
AK: I was surfing for Photoshop fodder and couldn't improve on that. It's one of those "dammit I wish I wuld've done that first" things. The site (plugged above) is pretty cool and worth a look.
CB: It's more humane than broken glass and salt (but not by much)
:)
Munch: Lost or 24? I want quicksand on shows people watch. Like TMZ and Oprah!
Skip: Ouch! (please don't tell anyone I watch that show too ... but if they don't stop smoochin' break out some goddamned shiny robots shooting stuff, I'm writing Congress!)
Jeff: In this "politically correct" day and age, I respect your raw courage and integrity for speaking your mind against this obvious scourge.
Truth be told, I've poured more bags of concrete into those things than I'm willing to admit ...
:)
Quicksand terrified me as a kid. The image of someone's screaming head slowly disappearing into the mysterious goo.
What DID happen to quicksand? I hope it's gone forever. I hate it.
JD at I Do Things