Barking at Satellites

LOBO -Predator Press

Is Luann de Lesseps single? Something about that "I'm going to unleash the eels upon you" look turns me on.

Ask LOBO: Bad Gamma Jamma

LOBO -Predator Press

About halfway into "Thor: Ragnarok," I realized I was crushing on -not Cate Blanchett- but Hela. Having had a similar experience with the "Suicide Squad" villain Enchantress, it invited some mind-blowing introspection.

[I'm not attracted to goth. And Cara Delevingne, admittedly, is not exactly in my age demographic. But Suicide Squad's "Enchantress" demon(?), is like probably older than dirt anyway.]

My first thought is always now this is a woman that gets shit done. No more hassle by airport security for yours truly aka "God's football," lest ye be smoten. And standing in line too long at a grocery store? Pow! Free Slurpees for everyone!

And then I went all swoony.

-I "get" Hela.

Sure there would be downsides to dating her. TV dinners for all Eternity. And I'll bet the damned shower drain hair filter alone would be a nightmare. Toenail clippings that could shoot through concrete walls would probably change my insurance rates significantly. But can you imagine the sex? She is effectively a timeless goddess, and I am pretty open to new things. I'll just double down on the calcium so my pelvis holds up as long as possible.

This says a lot about me and past relationships. I'm not capable of that kind of aggression, so maybe it is a yin and yang thing I never noticed in myself before. An excuse for terrible evil for which I can participate, yet be divorced from on a karmic level. Maybe that is the whole new scale of evil.

I would protect her.

How to Break Up With Gods

Predator Press

Dear Medusa,

I can't do this anymore.

It's not really about the obsession with sculpture, the bloody dandruff, or the thick scales stuck in the soap bar ... I just think we should start hissing and spitting at other people.

I will always remember the good times -like that time we tickled Sisyphus until he dropped his rock and he hadda start history all over. But we've grown in different directions, and I want my half of the direction our music collection has taken. And all my Dean Koontz paperbacks.

We're just too different. I think we should just be friends. It's not you, it's me. Plus I need time to focus on my new career rehabilitating blind mongooses. (Mongeese? Mongai? Mongaggles?) And I'm not good enough for you ... you need to find someone who will treat you like you deserve being treated by.

Your Pal,

LOBO

Predator Press Unveils 'SeniorsMeet.com' Media Blitz

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[LOBO]

Personalize funny videos and birthday eCards at JibJab!

Rebel Yell

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Between Terri and I, we have two boys and five girls -four of which girls are over eighteen.

Plus two 'Mother-In-Laws," four grand-daughters, and, like, nine sisters between us.

Not to mention Phil, the female household feline.

-For the two boys and I, it’s like dangling precariously over intermittently-whirling serrated sawblades sharpened in acid and salted gasoline.

And what exactly are we going to do about it?

I dunno.

A bake sale maybe.

Ask LOBO: Women and How to Understand Them

Predator Press

[LOBO]

People are always asking me, ”LOBO, you are so smooth and cool when it comes to women. What is the secret?”

Well I’m glad you asked me that.

-It just so happens I live with two women as well: my lovely wife Terri and teenage daughter, eh, Complainy.

So who better to lecture comprehensively on this subject?

Hm?

If you think about it, I’m what you might call an expert.

Yeah.

As a species I wouldn’t trade with women in a million years. For starters there’s that whole “Childbirth” thing. For those of you not familiar with the concept of “Childbirth,” “Childbirth” is where you essentially try and crap a chair. And not just any chair either: it’s like crapping one of those folding steel chairs you see on the WWE.

The weird thing is women keep doing it: even as you read this, somewhere a woman is going through “Childbirth” –and all in the full knowledge of what she’s in for.

It’s pretty crazy if you think about it. If I had fifteen minutes of advance knowledge I was going to stub my toe, I would have the evil building and everything within four square blocks demolished by professionals, burn down the rubble, and after a proper Catholic ceremony have the ashes launched into the sun.

-These people have like six months of advanced knowledge.

Weird!

In an effort to explore this inexplicable trait, I have gone through Terri and Complainy’s bathroom cosmetics. I found mostly unpleasant-seeming things such as “Apricot Scrub.” Yuck. There’s a tube labeled “Morning Burst” that makes me wince just thinking about it: can you imagine stumbling groggily into your shower, and BANG!, getting a burst of any kind? Unless it’s the shrapnel of coffee in paste form, I don't want it.

“Cranberry Tart Body Butter” got my attention. Firstly, on the label “Cranberry Tart” is written in an elaborate flowing calligraphy and looks like “Cranberry Fart” until you look at it closely (I'll take a picture of it when I get my camera back).

But what the heck is “body butter?"

-And wouldn’t something that made your farts smell like cranberries been infinitely more practical?

Well, that’s all the time I have today to lecture on women and how to understand them. I thought it would only take about 20 minutes, but women are a little more complex than I initially thought: I’ll obviously have to do the other half some other time.

In the meantime, the kids are away tonight and Terri is going to be home in a half an hour. I’m going to answer the door absolutely slathered in body butter, and in nothing else but a loincloth made from toast.

I hope she’s hungry.

:)~

Sin, Sex, and Sunday Night Football

Predator Press

[LOBO]

“Come in!” I says swinging the door open wide. “Good to see you guys!”

“Thanks LOBO,” Jessica says stepping inside. Eric hands me a bottle of wine with a ribbon tied around it. “This is for you and Terri. We heard you two were moving to California.”

“Oooh fancy,” I says, reading the label. “How’ve you been? And where have you been? We haven’t seen you guys in ages.”

“Jessica and I have been going to church a lot,” says Eric.

“Well that explains it then.”

“How come you haven’t been going?” asks Jessica.

“Terri is there now,” I reply. "That counts, right?"

Jessica scowls. “You don’t go?”

“I just went last year, remember? There was a full-on sermon about some guy.” I set the bottle on the table and gesture for them to sit. Easing back in the recliner, I check the Redskins score. “Besides, despite all my prayers God apparently hates my Fantasy Football team. We’re 1-and-2. I’m kinda thinking maybe I should lay low for a while.”

At that exact moment, Terrell Owens nimbly slipped through a thick defense and scored a touchdown.

Subtly wiping back a tear I says, “So what triggered all this new interest in religion?”

Eric’s eyes get a little evasive.

“We were,” Jessica hesitates, “having some marital issues.”

“Really?”

“But we’ve been getting counseling,” says Eric. He smiles at Jessica, and clasps her hand. “It’s been really great for us.”

“I’ll bet,” I concur. “Probably the best thing for you. And I hear it’s a sin if a wife doesn’t submit to her husband’s –eh, desires.”

Jessica goes fire truck red.

Eric squirms. ‘We’ve, uh, learned to come to terms and respect one another.”

“Well it must save you two a lot of foreplay,” I affirm. “Take your pants off bitch, or I’m tellin’ Jesus!”

Running and Mating

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Alright.

I don't usually weigh in on political matters -well, on any sides anyways- but I must say the announcement of McCain's Vice Presidential running mate Sarah Palin surprised me.

-And not entirely in an unpleasant way, like how sick I got when Ethan bet I couldn't drink all the old windshield squeegee fluid at that Amoco in Buffalo, Wyoming. I was more surprised like when MIT announced they had discovered a way to quanitify fashion sense between the hyphae mycelium of various fungi in lab Petri dishes. You know, the kind of surprise you experience when Paul Reiser lands another sitcom? You go "Huh. I really liked that guy in One Night at McCool's," followed by something like, "Hey honey, did anyone feed the cat yesterday?"

And I don't care that Sarah Palin has only been Governor of Alaska for 18 months. Nor do I care she doesn't have much experience in foreign policy. All I need to know is that she has five kids.

Five!

Sarah, that's awesome. You really like to get your 'freak' on. A lot. But just what does it take to get you to try contraception!? How many dirty diapers? How many boogers? How much screeching?

Republicans and religious people in general are against birth control ... hey I get that. But if Jesus, on a carpenter's budget, was trying to pluck melted Gummi Bears from his station wagon's upholstery while his four screaming kids bitched about how they wanted Dairy Queen instead of nachos during the Laker's game, whatever he was turning that water into would have far more devious applications than you could imagine.


Check out the Humor-Blogs Fantasy Football Blog!

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 ...

Best Squishes

Predator Press

[LOBO]

I am always startled to hear a woman claim she doesn’t own a vibrator.

... I mean, what, are you nuts?

There really isn't any social stigma about it anymore, either. Let’s conduct an experiment: All you ladies who do not own a vibrator, please raise your hand.

Now look over the edge of your cubicle. Do you see any hands other than your own?

Ladies, ladies … this is, like, the Twenty-First Century or something; there are tiny, concealable, subtle technologies available that can bring you instant sexual gratification virtually anywhere!

I wish men were so lucky.

If that was true for us, we would carry them proudly displayed on leather tool belts -customized with a "quick draw" feature- and probably have an emergency holdout stashed in our boot.

We would have them in the file cabinets, and several would be rolling about the floorboard of the car.

One would be welded on the television remote, a half dozen would be forgotten between the mattresses and under pillows, and backups would arrive in the mail in virtual perpetuity (one by land, two by sea, et cetera).


***

It is long overdue for women to cast off these iron chains of sexual repression, and raise those little colorful plastic bastards in the air to be counted! Use them defiantly on busses, trains, and airplanes. Use them on the subway and in the library. And make that statement all across the world: hold massive “Buzz-Ins” at City Hall to be broadcast on CNN and the BBC until power plants fail and the city lights flicker and dim.

Civilization as we know it will grind to a standstill before
the might of your vast and squirty moaning numbers.
And as God as my Witness, I will start a vibrator repair shop -no, a college; I'll call it "Vibrator Tech University", and involve myself heavily in funding Research and Development. Plans for the first fusion-powered triple-headed "back massager" have already been drafted.

Well obviously the time has come, ladies. The only thing you have to fear is fear itself.

And maybe not having anything to put in the flashlights during the subsequent blackouts.

MALE BIRTH CONTROL PILL INTRODUCED

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CONTROL GROUP FALLS ASLEEP BEFORE REVEALING SURVEYS, RIVETING IN-DEPTH INTERVIEWS