Intelligent Life on Earth Found

"Don't get too excited" scientists warn, citing statistical improbability of finding more.

Predator Press

I'm Going to Need a Lot of Apples, Stat

Predator Press

[LOBO]

“Now class,” says the teacher. “Can anyone answer the question on the board?”

After an awkward silence, only I raised my hand.

“No,” I replied.

Internet Swag

Predator Press

[Found by Terri]

Predator Press Reviews Movies We Never Saw That Probably Weren’t All That Great Anyway: Driving Miss Daisy

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Look. Once a movie gets a certain age, if you haven’t seen it yet, you probably aren’t going to, right?

Concluding that just because we’ve never seen a particular movie don’t mean Predator Press readers should be deprived of us lecturing extensively about it, we have decided to start a series called “Predator Press Reviews Movies We Never Saw That Probably Weren’t Really That Great Anyway.”

-You are reading sort of a “test balloon.” A pilot, if you will.

Anywho, we‘re starting with Driving Miss Daisy. At first blush I hate every last image I can find on google. O holy Christ I can only imagine the Snooze-O-Meter score for these movie posters: I picture piles of potential movie-goers sleeping right smack under the box office -like the second those retinas process the image into the cerebral cortex, pow, they just drop like they hit a bug zapper.

Danny Glover appears to have slimmed down about 15 pounds or so for this movie, and apparently he’s spun off his Lethal Weapon character. My guess is maybe Murtaugh -finally fed up with Riggs’ antics- retires to be a cop [I'm guessing cop because of that cap] in some small town they couldn’t pay Mel Gibson enough to shoot a movie in. You know what? This movie is really fucking old, too -pre-CGI, 8-track tapes and textiles. Mel might not have even been born yet.

Unfortunately this town isn’t the “easygoing and relaxed” place Murtaugh was expecting, and soon he must arrest criminal mastermind and textile entrepreneur Daisy Werthan -who has been engaged in a lot of evil shit. Like a textile mafia or something.

But on the way to take her to prison, Murtaugh discovers Daisy is innocent -you know, the misunderstood hero with a heart of gold? Then Daisy rescues Muztaugh -her captor- during a seemingly-unrelated shootout featuring John Travolta.

Then there’s probably a good fifty minutes of soppy bullshit as Daisy and Mertaugh struggle against the titanic ebb of romantic tension developing between the two, hilarity ensues, yadda-yadda. But I’ll bet the freaky-wild sex scenes probably come in way too late to salvage this movie at all frankly. Then one of 'em probably dies, tragedy, tragedy, yadda-yadda-yadda ... and we get another fifty minutes of more soppy crap.

-I mean it won four Oscars and had fourteen additional nominations, so the sex scenes must have some redeeming qualities. But who besides Renal Failure wants to see Jessica Tandy naked that badly? That bony, pasty, wrinkled glazed butt, spanked pink, slammin up and down on ...

-Ah Christ. I think I'm havin an aneurism!

We here at Predator Press give Driving Miss Daisy a solid eighteen thumbs up because you can't go wrong when you mix prison, porn, and Dan Aykroyd.

We dinged it minus four Cannes Film Festival appearances for aneurism-related trauma, but this was all offset when we added ten bonus John Travolta Emmys, and an additional Golden Globe for every minute they splice in Lethal Weapon footage.

Maybe We Should Fuck Sharks

Predator Press

[LOBO]

For an animal that considers itself “sophisticated” and “evolved,” I think we look like a bunch of assholes.

I mean a sex drive is an instinct built-in to propagate any given species, right? But does the female aardvark require constant emotional reassurance? Does the male platypus hesitate to pounce on any beaver or duck it can? An holy crap don't get me started on monkfish. I don't know who or what they're doin it with, but somebody is fuckin 'em.

No, indeed -it seems the only critter that really needs a lot of lack of simplicity is the human male. But in a Cosmic sense, it's the human male job to shoot DNA at stuff ... and if we don't, we walk around with painful diamond cutter pointing at whoever we're talking to.

Males are about Diversity: if no willing vagina can be found, we start looking for alternatives. At some point, we don’t even need it to be a live organism … it could be a plate of sheet steel for instance. It flies in the face of even environmentalism ... What the hell are we supposed to do with all those bent and bloody girders that just don't "work" anymore?

The female, conversely, is in charge of Selection: she is programmed to perpetuate only the best genes. But is anyone comfortable with this decision in the hands of Kate Gosselin, Nicole Richie and Ann Coulter? Personally, I think those guys with the so-called “best genes” are total assholes anyway. And how many rap artists and Mel Gibsons do we really need?

For most of us, a 24/7 male libido is redundant, absurd, and -well, let's face it- probably dangerous. Couldn’t we just do spores or something? This is the same logic we use for cops: we hire them under the premise of protecting us, and what typically get is harangued, fined, detained, hassled, disrespected, and abused by them 99.99999999% of the time. And before you says “Oh but you sure love a cop when you need one,” let me also underline I love Chinese food too -once a year. You can’t fuck with me five hundred times, and then justify it all by one day doing what you were supposed to be doing all along.

Me an a cop can both lose an hour at the intersection I failed to come to a complete stop at -an intersection that hasn’t seen another vehicle since 1974- and then I can lose a day of work at court and $200 for the fine. On top of that, add what that cop and that court cost to all of us via local, county, state, and federal tax "contributions." But while this huge machine has been busy thwarting my cavalier and evil traffic device disregard, the streets are crawling with drugs and violent criminals they "don’t have the resources to fight?"

Really? No resources? We simply don't count all the hi tech police cars, cameras, guns, meter maids, ticket tablets, radar detectors, radios, computers, helicopters, prisons, uniforms, et cetera ... because the recent and rampant scourge of wanton 'stop sign anarchy' is taking up the whole goddamn budget? This is beyond stupid .... this is Fucking Stupid. And I -as a human being- am checking in as officially insulted: as far as I’m concerned, we’ve hired a criminal army with a bad attitude that spends most of their time harassing us, and is analogous to hiring an arsonist fire department. Where did my money go, asshole?

The ironic concept of cops arresting prostitutes could -quite possibly- make my head explode. What happened to our sacred capitalist “freedom” when cops get to wipe out their competition? We don’t even get to pick who will be fucking us?

As a species, we just don’t make any sense. Why do we just accept all this crap?

My money is on sharks.

A Contest of Wills

Predator Press

[LOBO]

I have concluded that if for some weird reason I should die, something has gone horribly wrong.

While difficult to imagine the concept of mortality and a chiseled phenomena such as myself in tandem, it must at some point come into consideration. Let’s face it: throughout history there is just a shit-ton of creative killing. One might even be forced to conclude that as a species we’re pretty fucking good at it.

Abraham Lincoln, Martin Luther King, LOBO -the thought of future generations dealing with these tragic losses is just depressing. And you know some weird religious sect would pop up -doin crazy rituals and building pyramids an crap- in hopes that I would rise from the dead. Truth be told I hate acoustic guitar: this would be totally unacceptable. If I do rise from the dead, me an Jesus are takin out those weirdo hippies first.

And holy crap, there’s the whole "zombie" possibility. Plus if my formal burial tinfoil hat isn’t aligned properly, there’s the chance of being remotely controlled by intergalactic robot dinosaur overlords or something -to aid in their sinister invasion plans!

-If you think about it, it’s in all Humanity’s interest not to allow or cause my death.

Nevertheless, if it cannot be avoided, I have decided I do not want to be buried or cremated or any of that witchcraft hoodoo.

I want to be detonated.

Instead of just bein plain dead, why can’t we have a little fun? I’ll bet it would be cheaper than all that funeral crap, too. Just dig a 12” X 12” diagonal hole in the ground (to focus the blast trajectory), fill it with explosives, lay my mighty corpse across the top, an pow, launch me mortar-style at something. Not a lot of explosives, mind you: bout six sticks of dynamite should do it -I don’t want to be vaporized per se; I want nice big, healthy chunks to fall down on something poetic of your choosing.*

-We should have a contest!

Gimmie ideas -like having all the parts fall on a PETA meeting during the “Meat is Murder” preamble. How about a Lohan family reunion or a Palin Thanksgiving? Or a Tila Tequila concert?


*Like Adam Carolla, I also want at least one really enormous black woman in pumps throwin herself over my coffin, tearfully wailing through a veil "Why Lawd!? O Lawd why him? Take me instead, Lawd ... !"

Internet Swag

Predator Press

LOBO Prophecy #1: The Future is Dumb Too

Predator Press

What to Do If You Are Vomiting Blood

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Doubtlessly, if you’re vomiting blood, you will need a few moments to clean off your monitor. In the meantime, I will entertain our healthier readers with my rather lengthy thoughts on Things I Can Live Without.

First, I’m getting tired of the Discovery Channel. How the fuck am I supposed to earnestly look for a job while inundated by reality shows about employed guys getting decapitated fishing?

At least TruTV has the human decency to fake all their "reality" shows about fantasy employed people ... you'll never see those Repo weirdoes get anything vital lopped off. But as for the rest, TruTV? We’re not excited about punks getting busted up on their skateboards anymore: a good excuse to invent better concrete does not a decent cable station make. Don’t you think I would be watching you right now instead of coming up with boring medical breakthroughs?

Speaking of which, if you’re vomiting blood, I suppose you should consider why you are vomiting first -all medical terminology is put in a hierarchy of acuity and lethality. If you‘re blood was vomiting, you would be in far worse shape actually: that is a sign that God hates you so much he is exploding you very slowly. On the downside, you‘ll look like Slim Goodbody. On the upside, you be in all Clive Barker‘s future films.

Since you are only vomiting blood, there‘s probably no reason to panic. Stop the vomiting ASAP. You need that blood. Were you eating something weird like peanut butter and sardine sandwiches? Caramel-coated oyster shells? Were you dipping Oreo cookies in green pea soup? Even the thought of foods like that could likely increase your nausea. I suggest thinking about something more wholesome. Like hot dogs or something.

I have supplied this delectable pastrami sandwich graphic as a helpful visual aide to fight the nausea. Doesn’t that look fucking awesome? I made Barbarossa go get it for me for lunch … Oooooo, I can’t wait. Nothing beats a free pastrami sandwich. Thanks Barbarossa!

In conclusion, if nausea cannot be controlled and you are still vomiting blood, treat it like any other bleeding orifice: a place a band aid over your mouth and nose, and sneak quick short breaths as not to spew bloody puke all over your monitor again. You know what? For the sake of tidiness, you could probably get away with breathing into a Hefty bag or something.

You’re not quite out of the woods yet: with the vomiting under control, you aren’t technically cured until we can stop the bleeding too.

You should probably call 911.

* Update: We at Predator Press regret to inform you that as of immediately after posting this, the pastrami sandwich was technically no longer with us.

[*sniff*]

Brett Favre: 2020 MVP

Predator Press

[LOBO]