Swine Flu Update: Are You All Still Dead Yet?

Predator Press

[LOBO]

So update me.

Yeah, I know a handful of creditors that haven’t stopped calling -and that crack team of pizza delivery guys is on full swing.

But how are the rest of you holding up?

-And do you know of anyone still alive that delivers Chinese? Or know of any Chinese restaurants woefully unarmed and stockpiled with food maybe?

What most of these intensive pricks don't realize is that I find the Apocalypse really, really depressing.

So I tried to cheer myself up, right? By creating something 'permanent' aliens would find among all of our scattered, well-gnawed bones, preserved for Eternal Cosmic Wisdom? But those snobs at the Louvre called my pornographic 30-foot mosaic of Da Vinci's Mona Lisa made of Skittles "Laughably Pedestrian." NASA called it "Frankly Uninspired."

I don't have to take any crap from those NASA rubes, and I half-blame whoever this uninspired 'Frank' guy is anyway. I hope he regards this as a "wake-up call": Predator Press is no easy mistress ... one more slip up like this and -Armageddon or no Armageddon- Frank will never work in this town ever again.

So despite Frank's sub-par "uninspired" Post-Apocalyptic artistic debut and his lackluster impact at NASA, I started cutting rap records for posterity and "bling" instead. But yesterday I got a tear in my rubber suit on the armoire, and was suddenly reminded both Frank was a smudge on my facemask and I was actually woefully Caucasian! Upon review I discovered that whole 250 hours of soulful, mournful crooning I wrote in Humanity’s memory sounds like ABBA boiling cats. And Frank -wearing 3-D glasses- was using brown Skittles instead of blue ones on the mattress pattern all day, making Mona Lisa's nipples leap out like King David is hurling rocks at the viewer personally. WTG Frank: while storyboarding, Nancy Pelosi's stiletto heels and g-string matched Glenn Beck's loincloth ... but now everything is is totally screwed up.

Dumbass.

-So as of today Frank is fired, I'm having a fire sale on brown Skittles, Nancy Pelosi won't return my calls, Glenn Beck won't stop calling, and I hope I never get beaten by the police like that again ... in fact, as far as all these jerks are concerned, I'm officially glad it's The Apocalypse!

Yesterday was worse -but yeesh don't get me started on yesterday.

Look, if you're already dead, please be patient; I'm tryin to get Richie Sambora to spice up a few of my "Humanity, We Hardly Knew Yee" tracks so they have a more, well, urban feel. But if any of you are still alive, don't you want this digitally-mastered Purell-soaked, dignity-filled 250 hours of "Humanity, We Hardly Knew Yee -by LOBO and featuring Richie Sambora" for $39.95? Each and every digitized copy is Blessed for safety by a guy that once conducted a legal marriage on a boat at high sea, and ate so much lime jello he puked a green sludge into the punchbowl two hours later.

Coolest. Prom. Ever.

A lot of my songs will sound like Black Sabbath's Iron Man, the intro to Led Zepplin's Stairway to Heaven, and Foghat's Smoke on the Water ... and that's because they are those songs, but with better, more topical lyrics, and a synthesized drum set -exactly as God intended the end of the world. And track 312 has never-before heard audio of me trying to talk Richie Sambora into to kicking the crap out of Frank -audio so explicit you can't put on public radio because of the FCC, the Jaycees, the FBI and the 4H Club. And those 4H pricks called us "jerks" afterward, too! It turned out Frank was the Spokesman.

Well if swift and lethal payback on the 4H Club doesn't motivate you to buy dozens of copies of "Humanity, We Hardly Knew Yee -by LOBO and featuring Richie Sambora" as Christmas gifts to leave on the tombstones of all your friends and loved ones, I don't know what will.

But this rubber suit is getting really stinky and has a hole in it.

I need a new one.