Predator Press Exclusive: Athlete Kim Kardashian Denies Sleeping With Identified

Predator Press

[LOBO]

The United States population is 307,006,550.

-I know this because I keep a complete and meticulously cared for list -”The Most Talented Celebrities in America”- where I categorize us all in order. The top of The List (Tom Hanks, Edward Norton, Helena Bonham Carter, …) typically remains pretty stable. Most of the “action,” on the other hand, takes place in the middle and at the bottom.

In 1996, Herbert Khaury -better know as Tiny Tim, and for his rendition of “Tiptoe Through the Tulips”- suddenly died, and a huge talent vacuum ensued.

Enter NFL player Bret Lockett.

See, Brett had a good idea initially. Once you crack The List, with some shrewd maneuvering you might be seducing the middle in no time -the likes of Dane Cook and Whoopie Goldberg. And after such an unprecedented quantum leap, Lockett would be within striking distance of the Ric Flairs, Kathy Lee Giffords, and the guy that does the ’Jack’ voiceovers for the Jack in the Box fast food franchise -arguably in the low eight digits, and the upper two-fifths of The List's hierarchy. By playing his cards right, Bret Lockett could have been banging Tom Hanks, Edward Norton, and Helena Bonham Carter in no time.

So you see, Bret Lockett needed to crack The List.

Bad.

The bottom three people on The List are my fourth grade Physical Education teacher Coach Berkowitz [307,006,548], Paris Hilton [307,006,549], and Kim Kardashian [307,006,550]. (Paris Hilton nudged out Kim K mostly because I am an animal lover: Hilton has one of those little teacup dogs, and I figured with no one under her Paris might become a suicide risk and that little dog would be totally fucked. Kim K would eventually follow suit with her own little teacup dog, but I already cited that advantage to Hilton who had the idea first.)

So Bret Lockett has to decide, right?

Well it turns out that my fourth grade Physical Education teacher Coach Berkowitz would be difficult to reach: he had just retired, and was touring the southwest in a Winnebago. For Lockett, this fact alone might not have been convincing when staring down the Hilton/Kardashian barrel … But one must keep in mind that Coach Berkowitz is a very hairy individual; Bret Lockett’s alcohol consumption may not be where it need be to go through with the dirty deed.

Mathematically, this brings us to Paris Hilton. Who knows? Maybe Lockett is allergic to dogs. Or maybe Lockett had understandable concerns of future entanglements with Nicole Richie. In any case, Lockett selected the absolute dead last person on my List instead. This is confusing to me, as it maximized the “talent chasm”: Lockett at some point would have to bang an additional celeb somewhere during his creepy climb to the top; my best guess is that he would simply add Tim Allen [305,999,886] or Dennis Edwards [288,521,011] who recently rejoined The Temptations after his failed solo effort.

Anyway, Kim K denies the whole thing. And this is as cruel to Lockett as it is dumb for Kardashian, because Lockett must now come forth with sordid, intimate details about Kardashian that only another lover would know … thusly doomed with an impossible task and helpless against his own unbridled ambition, Bret Lockett would inevitably become the only victim here.

-But you know the more I think about it, the more I can’t figure out why he didn’t go with Coach Berkowitz.


Disclaimer: This blog does not represent and/or endorse
the ideas, beliefs, and opinions of the author.

Revolting

Predator Press

[LOBO]

In May of 2007, Paris Hilton was sentenced to 45 days in jail only to be released after serving 50 hours. After much public outcry and drama, she was returned –ultimately serving a total of 23 days.

And admittedly I’d already been a Paris hater for years. It started with “The Simple Life” -a FOX Network reality show starring her and some other similarly vapid frosted flake I can’t remember, explicitly engineered to ridicule and humiliate the American working class.

That said, let’s skip ahead to a week ago. I had to renew my expiring driver’s license –including a CDL which cost me a month of intensive training and roughly $4,500.

While relieved it wasn’t the four hour ordeal I’ve grown to expect from the DMV it was all for nothing anyway: despite having no criminal record at all, my still-valid license, birth certificate copy, SS card, apartment lease, car title, marriage license -and my legally-verifyable wife Terri standing right beside me- the California DMV "could not help."

-My Birth Certificate wasn’t certified. Born in Chicago, my certified Birth Certificate would have to be attained via Illinois ... Even if I spent a fortune it would take a week.

I was told “tough luck,” and subsequently have no legal identification or driver's license –and that $4,500 CDL potential source of income? Bye-bye. I have to take written tests, driving tests -everything all over again.

Well I apparently went to the wrong DMV altogether: according to TMV [story linked here], in Santa Monica it was prearranged for Paris Hilton -criminal record and Probation in tow- not to wait in any lines at all, take five photos, and all employees were ordered to turn their cellphones off so no other photos got leaked. All this was done during regular business hours, and right in front of clearly less-important people such as ourselves.

As far as DMVs go, Santa Monica appears so uncharacteristically accommodating I think maybe I’ll provide a few links to the relevant agencies. What a fine example! They should be contacted so their unique Customer Service insights be shared, and we can enjoy the same treatment at all DMVs across this Great Nation:



The Santa Monica Department of Motor Vehicles
2235 Colorado Avenue
Santa Monica, 90404
(800)777-0133


Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger
California State Capitol Building
Sacramento, CA 95814
Phone: 916-445-2841
Fax: 916-445-4633
email

Predator Press New “Man of the Year” a Woman?

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Yes folks, it’s true. Larry Craig -the undefeated Predator Press Man of the Year for two years in a row- just might have finally been unseated.

And I’m proud to announce that the new nominee has an extra “X” chromosome! (Or a "Y" ... I dunno. I lose track. What do I look like? A chromosomologist?)

Sure Miss Hilton has let herself go a bit [woof!] since she and Nicole Richie’s "The Simple Life" garnered four consecutive nominations for the Teen Choice Award. But wouldn’t you be bummed if you were nominated four times for something you didn’t win? Teenagers, if you think about it, are far too preoccupied growing their hair weird 'an listening Def Leppard and Bruce Springsteen records to know what’s really “cool” anyway.

Who besides Miss Hilton has the courage to trash-talk a posse of rap artists, get bitch slapped, and then Tweet in tearful desperation while waiting for the ambulance and police [as seen here]?

-And before you say it, does Glenn Beck even have a video blog?

I've Already Repented, So God And I Are Cool On This

Predator Press

[LOBO]

I’m a news junkie I guess. While surfing, I’ll have my television running CNN or MSNBC or whatever in the background, and news ticker widgets a go-go feeding me “headlines.”

And I would like to think the only reason I even heard Miss California Carrie Prejean’s remarks on same-sex marriage is because it’s kind of a “local story.”

But here I am.

In short, during the course of the Miss USA pageant she was asked her opinion and –oops- she gave it.

While I didn’t agree with her, it wasn’t some frothing hostile rant. Frankly, considering the -ahem- "forum," it was well-articulated. It was the kind of thing you might hear and shrug, “Well, I don’t think anyone is going to be changing her mind on it soon,” and that would be that.

Also worth mentioning perhaps is that I don’t have any particular stake in her opinions, and maybe that makes me a little less sensitive than I should be: my evolving a profound social view based on a teenage beauty queen’s insights is about as unlikely as me becoming gay myself (and based on this logic, were I ever to attempt watching a Miss USA Pageant I doubt I would even have the volume up).

But while disagreeing with what she said, I think -eh- editorials like Perez Hilton's aren't warranted. (-And wow has Hilton let herself go since "The Simple Life." Woof!) Still, the subsequent national freak out does intrigue me: it would appear this issue won't be back-burnered for much longer.

People are getting pissed.

So why do people oppose same sex marriage? Is it homophobia? What exactly are these so-called “straight” people so afraid of? Do they think well-catered Oscars parties will just spontaneously explode in their newly redecorated living rooms?

You have to look at the religious aspect with some skepticism too. Look if blowing up busloads of people because your mystical boogeyman doesn’t like their mystical boogeyman sounds rational, maybe that's your bag. Go crazy. Knock yourself out. If you can't find a dead chicken to wave over your television, I'm sure a can of Campbell's Chunky Chicken Noodle will do.

But why should the Government care what sex you are? -Especially one so deeply ensconced in nifty buzzwords like “Freedom”?

I wouldn't be so blunt, but the Religious Right treats these people like livestock: we should take the gender questions off of marriage licenses so the churches can go fight their own battles. Let's give the issue back to the people maintaining “Liberty” from of one side of their mouths and supporting persecution from the other.

-This isn't my problem, Miss Prejean.

It's yours.

Steve Fosset Searchers Find 200 Other Crash Sites

Predator Press

[LOBO]

According to CNN, the search for Steve Fossett may provide clues to 200 other lost crash sites.

First let me say that in the unlikely I ever disappear in an airplane, dont fuck around: get those guys to look for me.

But at 200 people per, my calculatrons indicate that by losing a mere 117 more millionaires more we could solve the mystery of the Bermuda Triangle once and for all.

I'm recommending Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie for starters.

... Wouldn't it make for a kickass reunion episode of "The Simple Life"?

Richie Sentenced to Four 'The NASA Life' Episodes

Predator Press


No one appeared more stunned than Nicole Richie when she was sentenced to do pilot episodes for a Fox Network reality show called The NASA Life --except maybe her own lawyer when she shot him right through the forehead with a 9mm.

"Order," demanded the judge, banging his gavel. "Young lady I said ORDER!"

Nicole, seeming to shake that spooky 'vacant' look, promisingly set the safety on her pistol and strapped it back into her thigh holster. "I'm sorry Your Honor."

"The fact that you murdered a lawyer in my courtroom won't get you any points with me today, Missy," said the judge coolly. "I'm going to make you ridicule honest and hard working middle class people for four whole episodes in space."

When asked for comment, Paris Hilton's Parole Officer claimed Paris was “already making daiquiris in the centrifuge”.

Revenge-Seeking Paris Hilton to Record New Album

Predator Press


Paris Hilton, embittered by three weeks in prison, has re-entered the recording studio in order to exact her merciless vengeance upon Humankind.

On the condition of anonymity, a public relations executive from Apple --the iPod designer and manufacturer-- spoke with Predator Press immediately prior to his suicide. "Last week, we were worried about the liability when that kid almost got his head blown off by a lightning strike. Now this. I don't think even rampant iPhone profits will cover all the inevitable destruction and chaos."

Scientists from around the world are expressing agreement that the devastation will take on many forms besides the obvious economic ones. "We've linked last week's earthquake in Japan to the exact time Paris' sound checks were being done," explains noted physicist Stephen Hawking. "You know how a voice can shatter a glass? Well, picture busting God's glass, and spilling red wine all over His cosmic lapels!"

The EPA, distressed by the sudden flight of virtually all wildlife from the west coast, offered little comfort. "Let's put it this way," says Regional Director Alan Fremont. "We're so fucked, even the trees are leaning east."

Reports of mass immolations are pouring in, and human ears and bloody tufts of hair dot the streets between the broken bodies of jumpers. Bracing for shockwaves 'with the catastrophic potential to crack the planet in two', FEMA, the Peace Corps, and the National Guard have been recalled from all over the globe so they may spend their final days on Earth distributing contaminated ice with their friends and loved ones.

"We survived Yoko Ono, Paul Stanley's solo album, and the last few years of the Rolling Stones," says a homeward-bound missionary. "I was almost starting to think we had a chance."

Was Paris Hilton Really Released?

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Here is a photo of Paris before prison:




But here is a photo of Paris being released from prison today:




Now while the resemblance is incredible, you might notice that "post-prison Paris" has more delicate, effeminate and attractive features than the original --a mistake commonly made during makeshift prison plastic surgeries.

Scienticians from the Predator Press Research Laboratory have taken tiny microscopic measurements over areas such as the forehead slope, bust size, chin length, et cetera, and have come back with a startling conclusion:


Clearly, what we have here is an imposter.

Was this a mystery person that spent three weeks doing "hard time" for our beloved princess? Or part of an elaborate prison escape?

Hm?

NBC, Predator Press Vie for Post-Prison Paris

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Our initial offer was some 2-for-1 Whopper coupons, and one for $4 off for an oil change at Meineke.

But then NBC edged us out by offering an additional $999,992.00 in cash.

So I call Brian Williams, right? I says "Brian, Buddy. What are you doing?"

And Brian says, "We're going to scoop you on this one LOBO. I've secretly always wanted to have a larger, more popular news organization than Predator Press."

"As Paris' oldest and staunchest supporters and fans," I reply, "we're still counting on her coming through for us instead. And NBC has a lot of potential; don't jeopardize your credibility over some petty jealousy."

"Screw you LOBO," says Brian. "We're getting this story."

"Screw me!?" I says. "I'll wedgie you up to your ears, you jerk!"

"Yeah," says David. "You and what army, you stinky-faced poo-poo head?"

"I know you are but what am I?" I retort cleverly.

"I'm rubber and you're glue-"

"I know you are but what am I?" I maintain relentlessly. Then, sticking fingers in both ears, I sing "Lalalalala" for like five minutes.

At some point, he hung up on me.

Real mature, Brian.

Real mature.

Spamlet: Act I

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Okay, fine. I was supposed to relieve Max, Brighta and Vetter from guard duty at six in the morning.

Wednesday.

But when I showed up Friday night, those stinky fucks were all sleeping!

"Wake up you lazy bastards!" I says, kicking them.

"LOBO," exclaims Brighta. "Oh please God tell me you brought food--!"

"Yes Brighta," I says. "We will have many talks and committee meetings over your obviously deficient work ethic, your inability to score any action beyond 'Butter-Faces' in bars, and your overall bitchy attitude towards guard duty in the future. But enough about your passive-aggressiveness due to latent homosexuality!" I turn on my holographic belt buckle. "Predator Press is bring robbed."

They stare in amazement at the beamed images.

"Wow," says Max. "That's really cool."

"It was $11.99 at a Best Buy in Dallas," I says. "But I think I got the last one."

"Is it that guy behind Cobe?" asks Brighta, pointing at a holographic Cobe walking fast as a jogger overtakes him.

"No," says Max. "It is Cobe."

"No fuckin way!" says Brighta.

"Yes Brighta," Max says calmly. "Look behind his left ear."

"It's a pencil," says Brighta, squinting. "Is it some special 'Secret Project' pencil?"

"No," I interrupt. "It was a goddamned authentic Predator Press #2 pencil, and it came right out of this here box." I flip it open. "See? There's only four left."

Brighta stares.

"Four," I demand, "out of a box of ten?"

"Watch," says Max.

Cobe walks right past his own luxury car, and opens the twin doors of a 53' semi trailer.

Like 10,000 #2 pencils spill into the road.

"I ask you," I says, staring at Max. "How exactly am I supposed to get Nelson Mandela to testify for Paris's release with this going on?"

"Well," says Max, "Don't let him fucking shop at Best Buy, for one."

Predator Press Interviews: Sheriff Lee Baca

Predator Press

LOBO: So you're the heroic cop that vainly tried to free our beloved Princess?

Baca: No, I'm not.

LOBO: You're not Sheriff Lee Baca?

Baca: Uh-uh.

LOBO: Hm. That's weird. You do look familiar though. Hey, aren't you that shaved Wookie that sold me that crappy Timeshare on Kashyyyk?

Baca: Nope. But for your information, throughout history the Timeshare has repeatedly demonstrated startling gains in equity.

LOBO: It was on a volcano.

Baca: I'll bet the view was spectacular.

LOBO: I hadda flush the toilet water every thirty minutes to keep it from boiling.

Baca: Look, I'm a Sheriff in Los Angeles. I can't just drop everything and fly to Kashyyyk every time a tenant has a plumbing issue.

LOBO: I thought you said you weren't Sheriff Lee Baca.

Baca: No I didn't.

LOBO: Ever heard of OxyCaine?

Baca: Nope. And it's absolutely legal to sell it to kids until I do.

LOBO: So what motivated you to free Paris?

Baca: I thought she was hot.

LOBO: So Sheriff, you're admitting on Predator Press that you that tend to pull people over in an effort to get dates?

Baca: Why are you calling me Sheriff?

LOBO: Ah, hm. Well, you got any interests or hobbies?

Baca: Well, I do occasionally umpire for Little League baseball. It's in my contract with Gillette.

My God

Predator Press

[LOBO]

What are you people, savages?

Just look at this poor woman, America's Princess, weeping and screaming as they illegally haul her to jail once again.

I must say I am shocked and appalled.

After all she's been through, it's right back into 'The Clink'? While scrawling out her own adorable little version of Mein Kampf, she will most certainly waste away like a petite flower denied sunshine and water! When I heard her pleading to her mother 'It's not right!', my heart just broke.

Speaking of Paris' mom, I can only imagine how awful this must be to endure. If it will at all ease her suffering, I'm publicly offering myself up for adoption to her for the duration. Nothing weird -I'm not wearing Paris' clothes or anything-but if Paris' mom needs the companionship provided by your offspring laying siege upon your refrigerator and always trying to borrow money, it seems the least I can do for a couple of weeks.

And think about it for a second: Paris will come out with an older brother to look up to!

We're with you, Paris' mom!

OxyCaine

Predator Press

[Mr Insanity]

"For the last time," says Ethan. "Were not moving the entire operation to Los Angeles. Have you any idea how expensive this would all be in California?"

"You are suffering from hopelessly antiquated thinking in this regard," says LOBO.

"Excuse me? Just yesterday, you were calling for open revolt!"

"I've changed my mind. If being too pretty, too famous, too rich, or too whiney counts as a legal defense, I'm all for it. Hell, I've got a whine that'll rip through your cerebral cortex like a pickaxe. Want to hear it?"

"Not particularly."

"Ethan, just think of all the money we would save in lawyer fees when we load up our cars with drugs and crash them repeatedly under the influence and without a license. That's the kind of selective enforcement that we need."

"But none of us do drugs!"

"Maybe that's a problem too," LOBO retorts. "Everyone who's anyone is doing drugs now. America has embraced it. It's very 'Chique'. We need to 'get with the times' so to speak."

"So you think we'll all be better off if we start doing cocaine."

"Cocaine," guffaws LOBO. "Cocaine is so passé only criminals use it anymore. I'm talking OxyContin, Ritalin, and Viagra."

"I can't believe you're s-"

"Wait!" LOBO interrupts. "What if we create 'Oxy-Caine'? Now that's a party."

"Lobo," says Ethan. "You've sunken to an all-new low. Get the hell out of my office."

"I'm just saying-"

"Out!"

LOBO, rolling his eyes, closed the office door quietly behind him as he left.

"Idiot," breathed Ethan aloud into his empty office. Then he pressed the button on his intercom.

"Phoebe?"

"Yes, Ethan," she replied.

"Is lobo gone?"

"Yes Ethan."

"Get me someone from Phizer Research and Development on the phone."

No, You WON'T "Be Back"

Predator Press



Before ousting every last member of autocrat
swill from the empire we built, blow 'em a kiss:


Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger

State Capitol Building
Sacramento, CA 95814
Phone: 916-445-2841
Fax: 916-445-4633

To send an Email please visit:

http://www.govmail.ca.gov


ALSO


Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department Contact List

Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department
"Compliments, Complaints": (323) 526-5541

Gloves Off: It's ON

Predator Press

[LOBO]

So Paris is finally home after paying her debt to society with a lengthy stay in prison.

50 hours. Less than 5% of her original sentence.

People get stabbed in jail and have to stay. People get terminal cancer in jail and have to stay. Paris gets traumatized by, what, seeing a scary person in the window and is sent home? Is that how jail works? You raise your hand and say 'I don't like this' while crying? If so, get ready for a shitload of appeals!

That tears it. I'm tired of fat, bloated government pigs sending our kids -not theirs- to be murdered and maimed overseas. I'm tired of building their fortunes with my labor. And now that I can plainly see the provided hypocritical, inept and corrupt sack-of-shit Monarchist crap that passes for a 'Legal System' for what it is, I want to burn the whole fucking thing to the ground and start all over.

Minus the "Aristocracy".

Vive L'Anarchie.

American Monarchy X

Predator Press

[LOBO]

“When Paris Hilton was handed a jail sentence,” I says, “my first impulse was pity. And really not for any other reason than I wouldn't want to go to jail, and I'm probably ten times as equipped to survive a jail sentence than she.” I flick my cigarette out of the Cadillac. “Pull over here,” I says.

“Really?” says Gilmore.

“Yeah.”

Gilmore’s eyebrows furrow. “That isn’t even a parking place.”

“There’s plenty of room for the car. That's a parking place if I ever saw one.”

Gilmore stopped the car in a rude diagonal, right in front of the Dennys entrance.

“For me," I says removing my seat belt, "the pity eroded quickly as I listened to her various and vapid post-trial defenses. ‘But I told the truth’ was the really odd one: there was no acknowledgment of personal responsibility anywhere at all; the fact that she was caught red-handed and decided to cooperate should've made everything fine.”

We simultaneously exit the car and walk in.

“Ten bucks,” I challenge behind the crowded Please Wait To Be Seated sign. “Ten bucks says I can get food before Paris Converts to Islam.”

“This isn't really about Paris,” argues Gilmore. “Trust me, ‘Paris Hilton’ is the last thing to worry about. In fact, she's inconsequential to the real issues here. As I've pointed out with Mike Tyson, blaming Paris Hilton is like blaming The Monster instead of Doctor Frankenstein. Paris, with few discernable talents, commands $250,000 for an appearance. Who writes those checks? We do. We made these people. We love them with our wallets and our cameras. We feed and house them.”

Watching a waitress come out of the kitchen balancing a large serving tray of food, I nudge him.

“That one?” I says.

“Nah,” replies Gilmore. “It’s all rabbit food.”

“As a repeat offender,” I offer, “she got a shorter sentence than I would have. And her parents mocked the judge, something that would have not only increased my sentence, but would have got my parents locked up too.”

One of the many families of four in front of us get a table, and we advance a little.

“Look,” says Gilmore. “We encourage this. Because at some innate level they are fun to watch. The brief spectacle of one ‘self destructing’ in an environment we provided them is just fantastic television. Fuck Paris. She doesn't deserve anymore credit than a pet goldfish; she’s merely a symptom of sadistic masses as a whole."

"See, why go and down goldfish?" I says.

"LOBO," Gilmore says emphatically. "We were watching Paris and just salivating for something like this to happen. That's a pretty barbaric form of entertainment."

Another waitress comes out of the kitchen.

“How ‘bout that?” I ask.

“Not bad,” says Gilmore.

We step out of line and into the restaurant, intercepting the waitress with the large tray of food. Gilmore slips her a $100 bill as I grab the entire tray, and we walk by the crowd still 'waiting to be seated' nodding politely, and climb into the car.

Excruciatingly, Gilmore continues as we fasten our seat belts. “I can't believe after all that, her sentence gets reduced."

"Heck, they gave her a private suite." I reply. "And she complained about that. It was making the time go slower 'cuz she was bored."

"Yeah. Can you imagine explaining to a Parole Board that you deserve to get out based on the simple virtue that incarceration isn't amusing enough? Or that 'the cells are filthy'? I would have slapped a few months on just for that! Why should we respect ‘The Law’," he drones, "when it doesn't even try for an appearance of integrity? It's bad enough that hard-working decent people have to work under the oppressive nature of a 'Free Nation' that employs a different set of laws upon the rich and the poor. But must their noses be shoved in it too? Paris complained that the cop initially pulled her over to hit on her. You know, that might even be true and I don't care. Celebrity, fame, popularity ... oh it's such a drag. This carefully and cultivated image was planned and thrust upon poor Paris, wasn't it?"

“Gilmore, I don’t think you understand,” I says, winging the empty serving tray out the window of the car like a discus before putting on my seat belt. “Paris Hilton is exactly that. She's America's own manifestation of Princess Di. She was born into this. Do you want to see our Princess sticking a shiv in some crazy tattooed naked chick’s kidney while showering? My god man, her own parents would probably kill you for that.”

“I understand that rich people have problems too," he rudely continues. "But it's really not the same is it? There's a huge leap between worrying about your family's mere survival and well-being, and worrying about ... well, whatever it is the rich are worrying about. I'm sure it's not easy. I imagine that had Paris injured or killed someone, her grief would have been completely insufferable; it would have tarnished her public 'socialite' image, and probably caused the cancellation of various endorsements. She probably would have had to cough up a few million to the family before she could bear to face her next latte.”

“Dude,” I says. “These potato skins are awesome.”

“Dibs on the mozzarella sticks.” replies Gilmore, peeling out.

"And you owe me 10 bucks," I remind.

Pokey

Predator Press

[LOBO]

It has come to my attention that websites like "Stuff and Stuff and Stuff" are currently fundraising for Babs' bail money.

I've linked all of them in the Site Guide --right under “Petit Mal”-- just so you know that you don't have to go there; I'm bound to come up with that $60 by simple virtue of this huge stack of scratch-off lottery tickets.

These lottery tickets --coupled with about 40,000 of your generous pennies so's I can scratch 'em off-- means I have everything well-in-hand.

... And Babs always wanted to hang with Paris Hilton ... !

A Body Apolitique

Predator Press

[LOBO]

In a world of politically polarized blogs, my lack of "affiliation" drives Ethan totally bats.

The truth is, I've known some pretty fine people -and some rather spectacular train wrecks-- from both ends of the spectrum; my personal experience has taught me that a person's political and religious beliefs are rarely a reliable moral barometer. In fact, I find extreme levels of involvement bear out to the contrary; it often seems the more a person talks about what they believe, the less they behave in the manner of their chosen endorsement.

I've tried "staying on top" via various media, but the political charge always seems to bring out the worst in people; everybody is so busy distilling the information and calling everyone else liars, provocateurs and thieves, I couldn't tell you a good, reliable and objective news source were there a gun pointed at my head.

–besides Predator Press, of course.

Look, it's not complicated; either you want to defend, elevate and improve your own circumstances, or you want to improve, elevate or defend the environment of the circumstances and the collective whole, uh, thereby indirectly improving your own circumstances.

Hm.

Well, far be it from me to get in your ardent and virtuous way; hell, you screwballs are already so choked of fantastic conspiracy theories, finger-pointing and wild accusations, there isn't enough room for Predator Press to contribute!

Ultimately, this results in more leisure time for me; I'll step aside and let you make the comedy. Give kids 9mms in schools in an effort to understand the Metric System, and then automatic weapons while guarding the home in case of massive and well-coordinated quail or deer uprisings. Change the word "Prison" in the dictionary to "Low-Income Housing", "Starving" to "Sheik and Slender", and "Homeless" to "Independent Dwelling". Wreck the planet --and pay an oil man $3 a gallon of gas to do it! Bomb people frequently, and then pay "think tanks" to try and figure out why those people are are so irrationaly pissed off. Follow divisive religious tenants, and by all means kill people in Righteous Indignation. "Liberate" faraway communities of people of people you've never even heard of by either employing them or exterminating them --better yet, letting them exterminate each other once there services are no longer required! Fail not to look with adoring eyes and wallets (and various other body parts) upon the staggering contributions to humanity by such towering intellects as Anna-Nicole, Dick Cheney and Paris Hilton.

Promise me eons of Enrons, ages of atrocity, and volumes of vanity!

Because that's funny.

Next Year In Review

Predator Press


DESPITE GPA DIVE, PARIS HILTON'S
QUANTUM MECHANICS FOR DUMMIES
#1 BESTSELLER ON COLLEGE CAMPUSES

"Paris’ tawdry and sexualized behavior objectifies and therefore degrades all women," says pasty, pudgy, acne-riddled, Twinkie-scarfing, Starbucks-toting, hemp-wearing, hairy snaggltoothed gnarly-toed behemoth pooch protester.

You Deserve a Refund

Predator Press

[LOBO]

As a blogger, I'm enjoying the same crazy rockstar life as any other blogger does. And trust me, if you are among the lucky few to know someone else that blogs, ask them when the last time they were being blown by six chicks in a limousine absolutely dusty with poppy derivatives: if it's over two weeks, I'll manage the dumb ass myself for a while. You know, make it a contest or something.

It's really hard to blog when hot chicks are always throwing themselves on the hood of my car as I go about my otherwise enriched, healthy, robust and fulfilling life. And christ the accounting hassles! Every goddamned day, it's "I need a copy of your 1967 F-16 Form," and "IRS Audit," and "You bought a what?!?". I swear to god I think I'd like to just liquid nitrogen the whole Fiscal Unit, and chip little pieces off of the bastards until they're just a big melting slushy gob of useless DNA.

So, on the bright side, Predator Press will likely be hiring soon.

It's tough being this ragingly successful! Just ask Paris Hilton. Poor thing ... "overworked and drinking on an empty stomach", she gets a DUI. A DUI! She was 'overworked', it seems, making fun of the middle class.

Us.

That sucks. If I were you, I'd be pissed; I was always hoping Charlize Theron would pop up on "Simple Life" and beat that skinny, polluted flake with a tire iron. Well, after a decent lesbian kiss anyways.

The networks need this to happen. They are going to have a hell of a time recouping from this Crocodile Dundee debacle aka Steve Irwin. By the way, hello, America doesn't give a shit about animals; we were just preoccupied at The Deli, waiting with bated breath for a nice cut of meat while TIVOing a new tragedy. We need a new Mike Tyson, JonBenet, O.J. Simpson for Chrissake!

We create these monsters. And voting with our wallets, we pay them, knowing full well we want nothing more than a good fucking show.

So who is the monster?

I don't really care if you watch, frankly. But at least take Paris Hilton and Johnny Knoxsville and sterilize these people before we lose two centuries of Evolution [Or 6.99999 years of Creation: You go God Squad!].

In the meantime, all you hot brunettes and athletic, nubile blondes should not badger me for my phone number while I'm picking up those bagloads of cash on Wall Street anymore. It's almost harassment really. MY number, as always, is "1". It's easy to memorize because it looks so much like the letter "I", which coincidentally is my favorite letter ...