How Would OJ Fare at Shark Boxing?

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Our hometown Pianosa now has an exit off of I-80, and is starting to take shape. It's the only town in Illinois that has both ski resorts and tropical beaches, and located smack between a Denny's and a Shell Station. It has further been statistically proven that on Saturday nights 14% of the people at the Shell station know the directions to Pianosa (the other 86% are only looking for directions to the Denny's).

I intend to change all this: I intend to make Pianosa the host of the first registered global exhibition match of a chum-soaked man in boxing gloves being pitted against a pissed-off 47' hungry Great White shark.

Shark Boxing promises to be the largest Man-Boxes-Shark Pay-Per-View event ever broadcast on network television.

We've named our Champion "Daisy."

And once again, Predator Press scienticians have stepped up: this time to answer that age-old burning question on everyone's mind, How would OJ Simpson fare at Shark Boxing?

At great expense to you, 'o Loyal Reader, we built a supercomputer that ran simulations of what would happen should OJ accept our challenge to take the $100 prize money.

See, because she weighs in at around 3 bone-crushing school busses, you immediately think the reigning champion Daisy has the advantage, right? Well, you forget that aside for being an all-around good guy, OJ Simpson is famous for only one thing: his athleticism. He's a Heisman Trophy winner. Sure that was a few years ago, but I'll bet he can still play basketball just as good.

Shockingly, after 17 kajillion separate identical simulations it turns out OJ wins the bout 98% of the time.

We showed Daisy the statistics, and she seemed unimpressed. In fact, one of our techs captured Daisy muttering something about OJ being a "stinky-faced poo-poo head."

I can't believe OJ is letting her get away with talking trash like that.

Do Sharks Fart?

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Due to the holidays, I wasn’t going to post for a while. But science waits for no blog -not even Predator Press, dammit!

And you may remember that Predator Press is one of the few blogs that actually has a 47’ Great White Shark in captivity. And if Predator Press was going to keep this as an “exclusive” we needed to act fast.

What if Kathy Frederick at The Junk Drawer tried to 'scoop' me on this?

Hm?

So at great expense to you, Predator Press scienticans have been dragged out of various pubs and meth labs to answer the burning question on everyone's mind: Do sharks fart?

But good Predator Press-like science is a harsh mistress, and these experiments were beset with difficulties from the outset: immediately selecting 10,000 Taco Bell Fresco Bean Burritos as our explosive gas-inspiring catalyst, no matter how hard we tried, we couldn’t get Daisy to eat them.

This was perplexing. I have personally witnessed Daisy, our monstrous oceanic hunter, eat everything from Taylor Swift albums to pimply gangsta teenagers that piss me off in a swirling bloody chainsaw-like fashion. But guacamole? Wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole no matter what we did. So I figured we feed them to one of the Predator Press Scienticians, and then feed him to the shark, right? Well it turned out that Predator Press Scienticians were too lazy and worthless for this historic opportunity.

After an unsuccessful ad I took out in Victoria's Secret, I was frustrated; the odds of a waify supermodel finding out there were 10,000 free Taco Bell Fresco Bean Burritos laying around and us catching her before she threw them up couldn’t possibly be improved upon.

This was going to take all my cunning.

-And frankly having them delivered to a Weight Watchers meeting was sheer genius.

Daisy broke wind at precisely 3:51 this afternoon.

Daisy the Curly Shark

Predator Press

[LOBO]


Last night, while Terri and I were going through our scrapbook, it occurred to me I’ve never blogged about how we came to adopt Daisy -our 47 foot Great White Shark.

I remember that stormy evening like it was yesterday. Answering a soft knock at the door, at first I didn’t think anyone was there ... but glancing down, there she was in a tiny little pink basket. Attached was a note that said “I can no longer care for my baby. Please help.”

Immediately our hearts melted.

We have treated her as our own ever since, and despite Terri’s stubborn refusal to breastfeed we built as normal a life for Daisy as we could provide. I was there for her first steps. We played Catch and Hide-N-Seek in the backyard. I built a huge elaborate treehouse where we would leisurely fritter away our summers eating marshmallows and reading comic books.

High school was tough for her. She always seemed to have trouble “fitting in,” and we had to encourage her to participate in school-related activities. Eventually her natural athletic abilities began to shine through, and she became the first female fullback on her football team and earned a full scholarship to NYU.

We never told Daisy she was adopted, and trust you to help us keep this dark secret.

-One only has to look into those beady little eyes to understand why we have spared her this painful revelation.



This was a spoof of Daisy the Curly Cat.

Now go!

Visit!

Leperball

Yes, it’s almost Fantasy Football time again. Want to sign up for my amateur league? Send an email to “carpenoctum at hotmail dot com." But act quickly -it is first come, first served, and almost half the spots are already taken.

Predator Press

[LOBO]

People are always asking me, "LOBO, with basketball season over and football not yet in full swing, how does a legendary athlete such as yourself spend your leisure time?”

Well I’m glad you asked me that.

See I’ve always believed that people as gifted and successful as myself should spend a lot of time giving back to the community: encouraging the "less fortunate" to try and become a chiseled physical phenomena such as myself is exactly the false hope today’s kids need to keep them from dealing drugs, stealing my car, or other things 'the community' generally frowns upon.

With Shark Boxing still tied up in pre-production due to a quagmire of insurance hassles, I generally spend my weekends coaching a Pop Warner pee-wee football team called the Starfishes -a spirited and rugged little squad of ‘can do’ types, all afflicted with advanced stages of leprosy.

This is my third year -the first of which I am Federally mandated to because of the “Anti-Discrimination Act”: little Timmy's dad used it to sue me when I puked at the post-game pizza party and tried to resign.

Little Timmy is now quarterback.

His little dad must be so proud ...

-Check out my 2010 Fantasy Football Pre-Drafting Tips!

Ask LOBO

Predator Press

[LOBO]

People are always asking me, "LOBO, you are so worldly and brilliant, when are you going to give us your secrets on having happy and fulfilling relationships?"

Well, I'm glad you asked me that.

-Now that I have been blissfully wed for two full months, I feel I am qualified to lecture comprehensively on the subject.

It all boils down to five simple rules:

1) Keep the Romance Alive: Pretend you have feelings, and talk about them frequently.

2) Honesty is Not Optional: When your significant other is firing known minefield queries like 'do you think she's attractive?' DO NOT PANIC: tools to bring about your own self-destruction are often in ample supply when one is thinking creatively. Electrical cords, for instance, can be used to hang yourself in the absence of piano wire and guitar strings; if time is a luxury you posses, carefully knotted strips of bath towels and/or blue jeans will do the job with considerably less mess.

3) Appreciate Her Uniqueness: The best visual aid I can offer is that men communicate like this:




... while women communicate like this:



Remember that '8os horror movie Scanners where people's veins swelled up purple until their heads exploded? That's what'll happen to you if you try to figure them out.

Stick with chocolate.

4) Take the other point of view: When she wants you to have an opinion, she will give you one.

Be patient.

5) Know your limitations: Find a woman that is already aware that you're an idiot. This will save you both from a lot of unnecessary conversations trying to convince you otherwise. Plus, once she realizes you're far too simpleminded to try and "pull one over on her", sentences like "Honey, I had no idea this was pornographic material. I was just trying to figure out why they kept misspelling 'come'!" will be interpreted as honest and straightforward -just as they were intended to be.

There you have it: my five simple rules.

Hopefully LadyTerri will let me back inside long enough so I can post them soon.


Maybe Daisy can unlock the door ...